“That’s not nice, Charles,” he said before hanging up.

I’d never had to steal someone’s DNA before, but I was sure I would suck at it. He was going to have to give me a damn good reason for taking such a risk.

* * *

Before I got too close to home, my phone rang again. It was Agent Carson.

I answered excitedly. “Well?” I asked, hoping for good news.

“Meet us at the Crossroads Motel in half an hour.”

“What? You’re keeping her in that dive?”

“No, we’re meeting you in that dive. Do you really think I’d reveal the location of the safe house?”

“Oh, okay. Never mind. I’ll be there.”

When I pulled up to the Crossroads, Agent Carson got out of a parked SUV. “We are risking a lot, here, Davidson. If Emily doesn’t testify tomorrow morning, Phillip Brinkman walks.”

“I understand,” I said, pretending to be working toward the same goal, the successful prosecution of Emily’s boyfriend.

We walked up the stairs to room 217. Carson used the key. I was half expecting a secret knock or a password or something. Nope. She just used the key. It was all rather anticlimactic.

As we sat around the table, Emily explained what happened through a sea of unending tears. I sat stunned, completely impressed. The girl could lie. I wondered if she’d taken any acting classes.

“He just got so mad,” she said, sniffing into a tissue. “I think he forgot I was there. He was mad at one of his men and he beat him to death with a tire iron while his other men just stood around and watched. Don’t get me wrong. I could tell they were very uncomfortable, wondering if they were next. Something went wrong with a shipment, he said, and he just lost it. I’ve— I’ve never seen him like that.”

I fought the urge to applaud.

After using every pleading word in my repertoire, I finally convinced Agent Carson to let me speak to Emily alone. She was not happy about it, and I got the feeling Emily wasn’t either.

“Look, Emily, I spoke to Phillip. I know what’s really going on.”

She didn’t trust me. Her gaze darted to the door, toward the FBI agents on the other side of it, as though wondering if I were setting her up somehow.

“They say they have someone from my inner circle and are holding her hostage. Everyone is present and accounted for, but I can’t take the risk.”

“We didn’t know what else to do. They will kill him, Ms. Davidson.”

“I know, hon. You’re very brave for doing this. For risking your life for your boyfriend.”

“I love him, Charley. He’s a screwup, but he’s my screwup. He never thought it would come to this.”

“I understand, but if it’s found out that you lied under oath—”

“I’m not worried about me.”

“Well, that makes one of us. Can you stall?” I asked her. “Can you just hold out, don’t testify tomorrow, but don’t back out. Just—” I didn’t have a clue what to tell her.

“Get sick?” she asked. “Because if I’m sick, I can’t testify, right?”

That was perfect, but would they buy that? “It would have to be both severe and completely believable.”

One corner of her mouth twisted up into a smirk. “Trust me, it will be both. I have an excellent gag reflex.”

I nodded. If her puking-on-demand skills were anything like her acting skills, she’d nail it. “Okay, if you think you can get away with it, do it. Just try very hard not to get on that stand tomorrow without recanting anything just yet. If my plan works, you won’t have to testify at all, and we can tell the FBI that you had to do it. I’ll try to get you out of any charges.”

“I’m not worried about me,” she said again, and I realized just how much she loved Brinkman. “I can handle anything they throw at me. Just get Phillip out of this. I want him alive and well. That’s all I care about.”

“You’re a good person, Emily.”

She shook her head. “No, he is. He just got in over his head, said yes to the wrong people. But he is a very good person inside.”

“I understand. The wrong people can be very persuasive like that.”

* * *

Now that Emily had bought me some time, surely I could get some kind of evidence on the Mendozas without endangering her or Phillip Brinkman.

“Did you find anything on that case I asked you to look into?” Agent Carson asked as she walked me to Misery.

I didn’t know what to tell her. How much to reveal, considering Reyes’s insistence that I stay out of it. “You said your dad thought there was something iffy about that case.”

“Yes, he did.”

“I think your dad had incredible instincts.”

She stopped and gave me her full attention. “What did you find out?”

“I’m still working on it, but can you just check into one thing?”

“Sure.”

“Can you find out more about their son now? When and where they had him?”

“Why?” she asked, suspicion knitting her brows.

“I’m not sure. I just think it’s very odd that he looks absolutely nothing like either one of them.”

“I’ll see what I can dig up.”

* * *

I’d parked across the street from the Crossroads and waited. Agent Carson left a few minutes after I did with Emily Michaels surrounded by no less than three men in suits. I appreciated that she trusted me enough to let me meet with her star witness, especially when the woman’s life was in danger. But now that I’d seen Emily, I was certain I could pass for her from a distance. I just needed a blond wig and some really big sunglasses.