At 11:06 p.m., Beth was sitting upright in an emergency-room bed when Detective Lena Ortiz entered.

“Beth Sloan?”

“That depends. Are you here to tell me I can leave?”

“No.”

“Then unfortunately, yes.”

Ortiz smiled slightly.

“You always joke after somebody tries to abduct you?”

“Occupational therapy. Hospital humor is practically continuing education.”

The detective pulled over a chair.

“You told responding officers you heard the name Nate.”

“Yes.”

“Anything else?”

Beth thought.

“He said, ‘Nate said alive.’”

Ortiz wrote it down.

“And the men said Ross Ferry sent them?”

“Yes.”

“Did you believe them?”

“For maybe two seconds.”

“Why did you stop believing them?”

Beth looked toward the doorway.

Ross was standing outside.

He had refused to enter until the detective finished.

“Because Ross wouldn’t send strangers to drag me from my car.”

Ortiz followed her gaze.

“You trust him?”

Beth answered carefully.

“I trust the man I know.”

“That isn’t exactly what I asked.”

“It’s exactly the answer I meant.”

Ortiz closed her notebook.

“Mr. Ferry has agreed to speak with us.”

“That surprises you?”

“A little.”

“It shouldn’t.”

Ortiz stood.

“Someone may have targeted you because of your association with him.”

Beth looked down at the hospital bracelet around her wrist.

“Association.”

“What would you call it?”

Beth didn’t answer.

Neither did Ortiz.

---

Ross entered after the detective left.

Beth immediately pointed at the chair.

“Sit.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve been standing outside for forty minutes.”

“I’ve stood longer.”

“Ross.”

He sat.

Beth studied him.

“You know Nathan Ror.”

“Yes.”

“And his brother?”

“Gavin.”

“Who is Gavin?”

Ross leaned forward.

“A man who has spent six months using my name without permission.”

“For what?”

“Threatening warehouse owners. Charging businesses for protection they never requested. Stealing freight.”

Beth stared at him.

“And you were dealing with that tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Then suddenly they came after me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know yet.”

Beth studied his face.

“You’re lying.”

Ross raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not.”

“You know why. You just don’t know how they knew.”

Silence.

Beth almost laughed.

“I spent twelve years teaching stroke patients to communicate when half their face wouldn’t cooperate. You think I can’t read yours?”

Ross leaned back.

“Fine.”

“Fine what?”

“They think you matter to me.”

Beth stopped smiling.

Ross continued.

“That gives them leverage.”

Beth’s voice softened.

“Do I?”

“Do you what?”

“Matter to you?”

Ross looked toward the floor.

Beth waited.

He finally said, “This isn’t the right night for that conversation.”

“That means yes.”

“It means you’re injured.”

“That isn’t a denial.”

“No.”

Their eyes met.

Beth swallowed.

“Ross.”

“What?”

“Your mother is the reason we know each other.”

“She introduced us.”

“I was her therapist.”

“And?”

“And I’m not part of your world.”

Ross’s expression tightened.

“I know.”

“I don’t want guards outside my apartment.”

“You won’t have them.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have police.”

Beth stared.

Ross almost smiled.

“The detective recommended temporary protection.”

“That’s different.”

“Apparently.”

A nurse entered.

“Miss Sloan, your imaging looks reassuring. You have bruising, a minor cut, and a badly irritated knee, but nothing that requires admission.”

Ross stood.

Beth pointed at him.

“I said sit.”

The nurse looked between them.

“Is he always this obedient?”

“No,” Beth said.

Ross answered simultaneously.

“Yes.”

The nurse laughed.

Beth didn’t.

Because through the glass door she saw Detective Ortiz suddenly stop in the hallway.

A uniformed officer handed her a clear evidence bag.

Inside was a cell phone.

Ortiz entered.

“We found this near your vehicle.”

Beth frowned.

“That isn’t mine.”

“We know.”

Ross looked at the phone.

Ortiz continued.

“One of the suspects dropped it.”

“Can you access it?” Beth asked.

“We’re working on that.”

Ross said nothing.

Ortiz studied him.

“You recognize it?”

“No.”

“But?”

Ross looked at Beth.

Then back at the detective.

“Gavin Ror’s people use disposable phones.”

Ortiz crossed her arms.

“That’s useful.”

“I can give you names of businesses that have been threatened.”

“Even more useful.”

“I’ll have my attorney arrange everything.”

Beth watched him.

Ortiz nodded.

“Good.”

Then her phone rang.

She answered.

“Ortiz.”

Her expression changed.

“When?”

Ross stood.

“What happened?”

Ortiz ended the call.

“A warehouse on Fulton just caught fire.”

Ross’s jaw tightened.

Ortiz continued.

“It belongs to a man who agreed this afternoon to testify about Gavin Ror.”

Beth stared at Ross.

“This is connected.”

Ross looked at the detective.

“Yes.”

Ortiz nodded.

“And now we have two crimes in one night.”

Ross’s phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

He opened the message.

A photograph appeared.

Beth leaving the rehabilitation center four months earlier.

Below it were seven words.

You should choose your friends more carefully.

Ross locked the screen.

Too late.

Beth had already seen it.

---