Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            “Hell, yeah.” Raeburn sounded exhausted. “This is the best news I’ve had all day. I’d just sent Croft home when Molina called about Miss Barkley. Croft was unable to get anything out of Dixie Serratt. Finally I had SacPD take her to booking for parole violation.”

            Tom hadn’t thought the woman would talk. “Hopefully finding Kowalski will lead us to Belmont.” And Eden.

            “Get on it. Call me with updates. I don’t care what time it is.”

            “I will, sir.” The call ended and Tom got to work loading his facial recognition software. It was going to be a long night.





EIGHTEEN



GRANITE BAY, CALIFORNIA

            FRIDAY, MAY 26, 8:00 A.M.





He did a good job,” Irina said as she applied moisturizer to the tattoo nestled between Liza’s shoulder blades, exposed by the tank top that dipped just enough in the back. “The artist in Monterey.”

            “He really did. Thank you for doing this for me. I couldn’t reach it myself.”

            A month ago, she would have asked Tom to help her. Except she knew that she wouldn’t have a month ago, because she hadn’t been ready for this tattoo then.

            “I like it,” Karl said, glancing at her back as he walked to the coffeepot.

            “Ooh,” Zoya said, coming over to stare. “Me too. Can I have one, Mom?”

            “When you’re eighteen. Then I cannot stop you.”

            “What’ll you get?” Karl asked, tugging on Zoya’s ponytail.

            “I’ll think about it,” the teenager replied. “I’m not getting a tramp stamp for the hell of it.”

            “Language,” Irina scolded.

            “Bullshit,” Zoya coughed.

            “Zoya, do not sass your mother,” Karl snapped.

            Liza fought a smile. “My mom would have gotten out a sewing needle and offered to do the tattoo for me. Just like she did when I wanted to have my lip pierced.”

            “But your lip isn’t pierced,” Zoya said.

            “Exactly,” Liza said, and Irina chuckled.

            “Your mother and I would have had a lot of long talks,” Irina said fondly.

            “She would have loved you. You have so much in common, but mostly because you’ve been so good to me.”

            “You are deserving of people being good to you.” Irina hesitated. “Tom’s called me a few times and I’m not sure what to say to him. Did you tell him that you were moving out?”

            Liza sighed. “Yes. I told him I’d keep paying rent when he hinted that he wouldn’t approve whoever I got to sublet my side of the duplex.”

            Irina went to the sink to wash her hands, her face set in a scowl. “He threatened you?”

            “What a dick!” Zoya said.

            “Language,” Irina scolded.

            “But Zoya’s not wrong,” Karl said, frowning.

            “Yes, she is.” Liza couldn’t let them believe that about Tom. “He was hurt that I was moving. And it is in our contract. He didn’t want just anyone renting from him, because sports fans can be intense. Everything he owns is bought in the name of a corporation so that people can’t stalk him. And that was before he joined the FBI and made criminals hate him.”

            “I can understand that,” Irina allowed, pouring from the ever-present teapot.

            “So no calling him a dick, Zoya,” Liza said. “He even registered my car under his corporation, so that anyone looking for him wouldn’t come at me.” She was going to have to register it in her own name when it expired. But that wouldn’t be until mid-January of the following year, so she had time to figure it out.

            “Oh, all right,” Zoya muttered. “I just don’t like people hurting you.”

            Liza smiled at the teenager. “And I appreciate that. Thank you,” she added when Irina filled her cup. She’d taken her first sip of the tea—not “special tea,” Irina assured her—when her cell phone began to ring. On the off chance that it wasn’t Tom, she checked the caller ID.