Traffic was terrible. We were stuck trying to get into the city for an hour. When we finally arrived at the hotel, the sponsors of the race had sent security people to watch the food trucks. No one wanted a repeat of what had happened in Columbia. It was bad press for all of us.

The hotel was nice, and right in the heart of the city. After checking in, Delia and I found out we were sharing a room again. Neither one of us cared.

“I’m going up to take a shower, Zoe,” she said with a yawn and a stretch of her lithe body. “I’ll see you later.”

Dante went to find someone from the race to report what had happened. He was very generous with his thanks for picking him up. He offered us free kebabs when they finally found his food truck.

Miguel took the supply list from me and went to see if he could find everything on it. “What if I can’t find fresh strawberries?”

“Blueberries would do in a pinch,” I told him. “Thanks for doing this.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

I really wanted him to kiss me good-bye, but Ollie and Uncle Saul were leering at us. He walked away with the list. I knew there was going to be a lot of ribbing about our budding romance. I could take it. I hoped Miguel could, too.

Ollie, Uncle Saul, and I went to find one of the security guards for the race after that. We talked to him about the extra security they were supposed to give us. The head of the security group was a little vague. He acted as if he couldn’t believe we were questioning him.

“We’ve already been apprised of what happened in Columbia, Miss Chase. We won’t let anything like that happen here.”

We left him setting up his workers around the parking lot. Most of them were yawning and inattentive.

“Anyone have the feeling they aren’t that interested?” Uncle Saul asked.

“I’ll camp out in the Biscuit Bowl,” Ollie volunteered. “No one is gonna cut anything while I’m there.”

“Thanks for offering, but I don’t want you to sleep down here.” I glanced around. The food trucks were all in an underground parking deck again. “The fumes from the cars and trucks could kill you.”

“I’ve been in tougher situations, Zoe. I can handle it.”

“No. That’s why they have security. It will be okay. I’d rather have them steal the Biscuit Bowl than have you hurt, Ollie.”

“Really?” He stared at me as though he found that hard to believe.

“Really.” I kissed his cheek. “Let’s go upstairs.”

He shrugged, and we went for the elevator.

Uncle Saul and Ollie went to locate the room they were sharing. I went to have a margarita in the bar by myself, hoping to have a few moments to organize my thoughts.

I wasn’t on the stool five minutes before Detectives Helms and Marsh joined me. My margarita showed up a few minutes later.

“We heard about the hijacking.” Helms ordered a club soda.

“Let’s move this to a booth.” Without warning, Marsh picked up my margarita and walked over to a secluded booth.

“Hey!” I followed as quickly as possible considering my legs still felt stiff from roller-skating that morning and my knee was beginning to throb again. “Are you two allowed to work in Atlanta, too? Don’t you have to get some kind of special permission?”

We sat down together. Marsh ordered coffee.

“We have special permission, Zoe,” Helms told me.

“What can you tell us about the hijacking?” Marsh quickly scanned the bar.

“Not much. Dante was attacked at a gas station. Someone took his food truck. We saw him on the side of the road and gave him a ride. He told the highway patrol, and we came here.”

I sipped my margarita and wished I’d ordered it from room service.

“Something is going on here,” Marsh said.

“I noticed.” Brilliant! “Have you figured out what it is?”

“We still believe Miguel Alexander is involved in all this,” Helms accused. “Someone is working with him.”

I started to protest and tell them why Miguel had twenty-five thousand dollars in his bank account so they would stop being so suspicious of him. But realized that he hadn’t told me, and I hadn’t asked. He’d tell me if he wanted me to know. I could only guess in the meantime. And if they wanted to know, they should ask him.

“I think there’s a lot of money at stake,” Marsh said. “It’s behind the scenes and not all what we’re seeing up front. Have you got any ideas, Zoe?”

I took a big gulp of my drink to try and ease the pain. It was my own fault. I’d agreed to help them. “I’ll tell you the truth. I’ve got two members of my team who are in love. I have a bad deep fryer that I’m hoping to have replaced by tomorrow morning. That’s about all I can handle right now. If I actually hear or see something important, I’ll let you know.”

“It’s vital that we stay in contact with each other,” Helms said.

Another big gulp finished my delicious margarita. “I understand. But now I need a shower and a nap. You’ll have to excuse me. If anything happens, I have your cell numbers.”

The margarita really helped me get through that. I went back downstairs to get my clothes and Crème Brûlée. Everything seemed fine. There were some food truck vendors cleaning their trucks and a few pulling into the parking lot.

I grabbed my duffel bag and slung it over my shoulder, picked up Crème Brûlée, and pulled his blanket over him. I made sure all the doors to the Biscuit Bowl were locked.

I heard the elevator chime and started over to it, but before I could leave the passenger side of the truck, I heard an argument in the RV parked next to mine on the driver’s side.

It was Alex’s RV—again. I couldn’t really understand what the two people were saying. It was something about money and a job someone hadn’t done.

I recognized Alex’s voice. The other voice was too low and raspy. It was probably the same person he’d been talking to on the phone after Reggie was killed.

This couldn’t be good.

I inched around the front of my food truck to see if I could get a glimpse through one of the windows.

What am I doing?

Groaning, and not wanting to be involved, I started back the way I’d come. I stopped short as I heard a shot ring out in the parking deck.

FIFTEEN

I froze on the spot. Crème Brûlée started kicking at me with his paws. I knew his next protest at being held was going to be howling. I didn’t want to be standing there when that started.

It could be nothing. Just a backfire from one of the trucks. No one’s running toward the RV. Where’s everyone else?

I was afraid to open the truck door and put my cat inside. If someone had fired a shot, I didn’t want him or her to know I was there.

Instead, I opened my duffel bag and set him in there. I laid it down carefully beside the tire. I covered him with his blanket. He probably wouldn’t move. He didn’t like wandering around in strange places.

I crept around to the other side of the truck. There was no visible movement. The door to the side was open. I waited to see if anyone came running out. If someone had shot someone else, I figured they wouldn’t hang around long.

After a few minutes, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer to see what had happened. If it was nothing, I needed to know so I could sneak Crème Brûlée up to the room. If something bad had just happened, I needed to know that, too, so I could call the police.

I looked around the parking area, but all the other food truck vendors were gone. I was alone out there—again. I had to stop hanging around in parking decks.

I kept my head low and cautiously crept to the door that was slightly open in the RV. I glanced inside without moving from the top step. “Alex? Are you in here?”