Rachel grabbed her purse.
Marcus blocked her path.
“No one leaves.”
“You just said she was lying.”
“I said no one leaves.”
“Marcus, listen to me. We can still fix this.”
“Fix what? The messages? The fake company? The money?”
“I can explain everything.”
“You can explain it from the car.”
Rachel glanced toward the back door.
Marcus followed her gaze.
“Don’t.”
She moved anyway.
He caught her arm before she reached the handle.
Rachel screamed and swung her purse at him. The metal clasp struck his cheek, leaving a thin line of bl/o/od.
Marcus staggered.
Rachel tore free and ran.
She pulled open the back door—
—and stopped.
A figure stood on the patio.
Tall.
Still.
Dressed in a dark coat.
For half a second, I thought the officers had finally entered.
Then the figure stepped into the kitchen light.
Daniel Cross.
Rachel’s former husband.
