Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            Liza’s smile felt wobbly. “Yes. Thank you. I can’t be picky right now, but if the rent is affordable, I’d be grateful. That would be one thing I wouldn’t have to worry about.”

            Irina released her hand but didn’t move away, instead resting her chin on her fist, creating an air of companionable commiseration. “What else do you worry about?”

            Liza was literally saved by the bell when the front door opened, making an alarm beep. That was new. “You have a new alarm?”

            “No. I just set it to beep when anyone enters or leaves the house. I didn’t ground Zoya for driving to San Francisco with Jeff yesterday morning, because her heart was in the right place and she is a safe driver. But I don’t like the idea of her being able to sneak out, either.”

            “My mom would have loved you,” Liza said with a genuine smile, and then she turned to embrace the child flying into her arms. “Miss Abigail! Good morning!”

            “Morning, Liza! Morning, Miss Irina,” Abigail added, her smile sunny. “Is there breakfast?”

            “Abigail,” Amos chided. He’d followed Abigail at a more sedate pace. “Don’t be rude.”

            Abigail sighed. “Sorry, Papa.”

            “It is okay, lubimaya,” Irina said. “You want some eggs? Or pancakes?”

            Abigail looked undecided. “Both?”

            Irina chuckled. “Wash your hands and set the table for you and your papa.”

            “Karl and Zoya, too?” Abigail asked.

            “No, they’re already gone.” Irina turned to Amos. “Is Mercy coming?”

            He shook his head. “No. She’s staying with Rafe today. She said she’d do Abigail’s science lesson with her this afternoon back at our house.”

            Abigail sobered. “It’s because of Brother DJ. Rafe is afraid she’ll be hurt. Mercy said that she’d stay to keep Rafe happy. And to bake me some cookies.” She sidled up to Liza. “I brought my book. See?” She produced a copy of Who Was Sally Ride? from her book bag.

            “And we will read it after breakfast,” Liza promised, hugging her. “You have your orders, Private,” she barked, pretending to be a commanding officer. “Wash hands. Set table. Go.”

            Abigail saluted, giggling when she accidentally poked her eye. “Yes, sir!”




GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

            THURSDAY, MAY 25, 9:45 A.M.

            DJ slowly drove up and down the streets of the Sokolovs’ neighborhood, searching for the best surveillance angle. He wasn’t going to park here like he’d done the morning before.

            This seemed like exactly the kind of place that would have an intrusive neighborhood watch program that might notice his truck parked for hours a second time. He’d already killed Mrs. Ellis for spying on him. He didn’t want to kill anyone else.

            Not that he minded killing people. He’d gotten very good at it. But a trail of dead bodies would be like a neon sign indicating his movements. Cops had forensics, and those were the guys who made him nervous. They already had his prints and his face. He wasn’t going to telegraph his plans by leaving a bunch of dead bodies.

            After breakfast with Coleen, DJ had taken her to the rehab center, where they’d gotten the welcome spiel, including the level of care Pastor would be receiving and all the security features the place provided. The facility and its grounds were surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The gate was activated by key card and every staff member was vetted. Families were offered wigs and other disguises so that they could visit undetected. Security cameras were placed everywhere. Halls and common areas were monitored twenty-four-seven. Cameras in the patients’ rooms were only monitored by request or if there was a disturbance.

            Which had made DJ think of Kowalski and all the cameras the bastard had installed in both his house and Mrs. Ellis’s. And had prompted his early-morning visit to Walmart.

            He’d taken a calculated risk going into the big store. He figured that the cops might have his face from a surveillance tape of his botched roof job the morning before, but nothing had shown up online. So maybe the office building hadn’t had a security camera and he’d worried for nothing. Even if they had one, they hadn’t posted footage in the media, so it was unlikely that anyone inside would recognize him.