“All right.” I push the door open and stalk inside.

He and Drake follow me to the meeting room, and I sit on the table.

Carlton takes the chair next to where I’m sitting and opens his laptop. He clicks a few times then says, “Here.” He turns the screen toward me, and I bend forward to watch it.

It’s definitely the mayor, and the images are the same grainy quality as before. Vince must have gotten these, too, maybe thinking Natalie would be meeting him? Who knows? It’s the same hotel room, the same layout of sex toys on the sofa, and the mayor is wearing the same old Y-front underpants as he was at the start of the other video.

But the girl is definitely not Natalie, and my heart stops when she walks on screen.

“Holy shit.” I grab Drake’s forearm. “Holy shit.”

Of course. Of course. Of. Fucking. Course.

I jump off the table and run to the stairs, storming up them, leaving two confused faces behind me. Thankfully, the door to my office is unlocked, so I quickly get inside and head straight for the case file.

“Pictures, pictures,” I mutter to myself, flicking through every sheet.

“You’re like a fuckin’ chihuahua today,” Drake grumbles. “Now what’s wrong?”

“Shut up a minute.” I pull out one security image from the hotel then the one from the club. They’re the clearest ones they could get, and they match. Almost perfectly. “Come back down. I need to check something. Oh, grab that file.”

“Seriously,” he mutters, and I hear the sound of the papers shuffling as he gets it.

I run back into the meeting room and stop right behind Carlton. “Turn it back to the beginning. The very start when the woman walks in.”

He rewinds it then hits play. The first two minutes are all the mayor, but then she walks out of the bathroom.

“Pause it.”

She’s every inch a woman—except for her haircut.

Her short, pixie-style cut. The one that, on security camera photos, could easily be mistaken for that of a guy, especially if the woman wasn’t wearing a particularly feminine outfit.

“It’s Ellis,” I breathe, dropping the photos onto the keyboard.

“In the video?” Drake questions.

“All of it.” My voice is a whisper. She was yawning on the phone this morning—because she’d been up late. “The stalking, the murders, the exchange with the mayor last night... All of it is her. Ellis Law. She’s our killer.”

“Why would she kill Natalie? What does she have to stand to gain from that?” Sheriff Bates asks me, pacing the length of the briefing room.

“I have no idea. But look at the images. You can’t argue with it, and it’s totally plausible. She has the opportunity, and if we don’t have a motive, that’s important. She would have been at the hotel prior to the mayor’s talk, and if she was a member of D.O.M., no one would question her being in the club at the time Vince died. I bet the account numbers on the fake transactions to Nick will match hers.”

“What about shooting Brody?”

“The rental company lists the car as being rented by a Stacey Ellis-Law,” Trent throws out there. “I never made the connection, but this does make sense.”

“We need to find her.” I bite the inside of my cheek then release it. “I doubt she’ll be at the office anymore. She knows I’m looking for the mayor.”

“Do you think he knows about this?” Drake asks. “He knows about everything else.”

“There would have been a payoff somewhere if he did,” Sheriff Bates responds. “Find Ellis Law. Or Stacey, whatever her damn name is. Find her and bring her in for questioning. I want alibis for every damn thing we have on record, and I want them now.”

“Yes, sir.” Drake stands, grabs my hand, and tugs me up with him.

Trent follows after us as we leave the room. “Where do we start?”

“We split up,” Drake replies through a tight jaw. “I’ll drive Noelle back to her place to get her car. Then we’ll try to find her. Trent, go to her house first. I’ll check the bank. Noelle, you know women. Check wherever.”

“Like, what? The hair salon? The nail salon? The cupcake store? The shoe store? The clothing store? Why do I get all the female places?”

“Because you’re a female,” Trent sighs in exasperation. “I’ll take the shoe store. You’re only gonna get distracted going in there.”

“Or you could try getting her car registration details and put local stations on standby in case she tries to leave town.” I shrug. “But hey, what do I know?”

“That’s the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say this morning.” Drake opens the door to his truck, grabs my waist, and hauls me into the passenger’s side seat.

I oomph as he signals to Trent to do what I suggested.

Honestly, am I working with them or am I their new boss?

“Do y’all actually think of your own ideas or do you just wait for me to tell you what to do?”

Drake gives a harsh turn on the keys then shoots me the biggest, smuggest grin I’ve ever seen. “We wait for you, sweetheart. We figure that, if you keep thinkin’ of these awesome ideas, you’ll be too tired to talk.”

“I swear to God, when we find Ellis and you arrest her, I’m going to beat your cocky ass into next week.”

“Sounds like a date.” His laughter is drowned out by the revving of his engine, and he pulls away from the station like he’s a fucking NASCAR driver and not a cop.

I’m pretty sure we’re in the wrong car to be doing these speeds, but hey, I’ve just about exhausted my bright ideas for today.

Where is Ellis?

And are we going to find her?

My purse is sitting between my feet, and I reach down into it. My fingers find my thigh holster buried beneath my wallet, and I pull it out then hike it over my left foot and up my leg. I have to slouch in the seat and pull my dress up to get it to where it belongs, and if the tingling feeling worming its way across my skin is anything to go by, Drake’s noticed.

“What are you doin’?” Yep, he noticed.

“Accessorizing.”

“With your gun?”

I pull my favorite Tiffany-blue Glock out of its case in my purse and hold it up, smiling innocently over the top of it. “Yes. Although my color coordination leaves a lot to be desired.” I hike my dress up a little further and secure my gun.

“I hate it when you wear that thing like it’s a damn bracelet.”

“Hey, this is me being sensible. If you haven’t realized, I haven’t worn my gun for, like, two whole days. Okay, one. But whatever.” I wave my hand dismissively. “I’m actually being sensible instead of paranoid this time.”

“For a damn change.” He steers into my driveway.

I shift in my seat so I’m facing him, and he cuts his eyes to mine.

“The last time I came face-to-face with a murderer,” I say, “I thought he was going to kill me, too. I didn’t know what weapon he had then, either. This time, I do. If I find Ellis before all y’all do, I know she has a gun, and I know she’ll use it. I’m not afraid to do it again to protect myself.”

His jaw tightens, and his answering nod is a sharp dip of his chin.

I lean across the center console and kiss his cheek. He’s not going to reply. I can see it. His brain is whirring in macho-man-alpha mode, where all he can see is the danger he’s potentially allowing me to walk in to. But…whatever. I have to do this, too. I can’t sit around and do nothing while she’s running around with a gun in her pants and a heart of stone.

I pull my car door open and throw my purse in, but then there’s the distinctive slam of Drake’s truck door. I turn as he stops in front of me.

His hands clasp on either side of my neck, his thumbs curving up over my jaw and brushing my lower cheek, and his mouth comes down onto mine in a kiss that is equal parts fear and frustration. The resignation is in his following sigh.

“Letting you go and do this goes against every fuckin’ instinct in my body.”