Say Goodbye (Romantic Suspense #25) by Karen Rose

            “I think so,” Croft said. “Especially with the way she was glancing up at the camera when we talked to her on Friday. The maid said that the garage contained three vehicles when she left last night—a Jag, a pickup, and a white panel van. The van and the Jag were gone. We’re looking for the Jag. We found the panel van a short distance away, empty. Next to it were tire treads that matched those left by the car Belmont stole on Saturday night.”

            “We still don’t have an ID on the female victim?”

            “Not yet. Her face wasn’t . . . appropriate to share with the media.”

            “I remember,” Tom said grimly. He’d see that woman’s face in his mind for a long time.

            “Yeah.” Croft sighed. “The garage was lined with cabinets, and guess what they held?”

            “I’m afraid to ask.”

            “Enough weapons to keep ballistics busy matching them to past crime scenes. Looks like there was also a box missing from the dynamite cabinet. The cabinets were all unlocked. There are a few safes too, but they weren’t opened, and we haven’t blown them yet. Bomb squad is afraid of what they’ll find.”

            “Fuck.” Possession of dynamite gave DJ an even greater range. “And Kowalski?”

            “In the wind. He may have taken his wife and kids away, but I don’t think so. Not with the way her devices were all stacked so neatly. It felt like a fuck-you.”

            Tom agreed. “I planned to make a small day trip today. I can cancel if I need to.”

            “Where?” Croft asked, drawing the word out to several syllables.

            “I got a lead on Pastor’s wife. I think she’s living in Walnut Creek, married to an architect named Hugh Kitson. That’s why I kept trying to reach you this morning. I thought you might join me. I want to know who set up Pastor’s bank accounts thirty years ago. We can follow any handoffs over the years to discover whoever’s helping him manage his money now.”

            “Huh.” Croft was silent for a beat. “That makes sense. Where did you get the lead?”

            “From Jeff Bunker, the journalism student who brought us Cameron Cook.”

            “You’re an interesting partner, Hunter, I gotta say. I’ll let Raeburn know where you are. He can call you if he wants you back here. Have you busted into Sunnyside’s network yet?”

            “No,” he grunted. “Not for lack of trying. I’m just going to have to wait for one of those e-mails to play out. What about the three bodies found at the scene? Have you ID’d them?”

            “No, but we think they were Kowalski’s security. Keep me updated and I’ll do the same.”

            Croft ended the call and he met Liza’s gaze. “Nobody you know or need to know,” he said.

            “Okay.”

            He was surprised. “Okay?”

            “If you thought I needed to know to keep me safe, you’d tell me.”

            He smiled at her and the words were suddenly there, needing to break free. “You know I love you, right?”

            She sucked in a breath, her eyes growing bright with unshed tears. But she smiled back. “I think I figured that out. But it’s awfully nice to hear.”

            He pushed away from his desk and knelt before her. “I love you, Liza Barkley.”

            She cupped his face in her hands. “I’ve been waiting to hear that for seven years.”

            He turned to kiss her palm. “And?”

            She smiled down at him, her dimple popping. “Thank you?”

            He poked her lightly in the ribs. “Say it.”

            She rested her forehead on his. “I love you, Tom Hunter. I always have.”

            He drew a breath. “You’re right. It’s awfully nice to hear.”

            They stayed there for a long moment, happy in their bubble. Then Tom sighed. “I need to get dressed, which is the exact opposite of what I want to do. But Raeburn could call me in, so if we’re going to get to Walnut Creek, we’d better go now.”