When we pull into the long gravel drive, the blue lights from the last of the police cruisers still glow faintly through the trees.They found Dani’s car on the side of the highway, the engine still warm, but no sign of Reyes.Fine.Let the cops deal with him.A man that messed up doesn’t get far.And I already got confirmation that the vial of blood he’d been keeping—his little blackmail insurance—is gone.
No more leverage.
Again, everything fixed.
Dani turns to me as we park.“Can we see Belinda now?”
“Of course.”I squeeze her hand.“She’s been waiting for you.”
Inside, the house smells like coffee and cinnamon rolls.Safe.Home.Raven rushes to Dani, wraps her in a hug.Vinnie’s close behind, expression half relieved, half shell shocked.
Belinda’s sitting at the kitchen island, laptop open, eyes glassy.The light from the screen paints her face green.
“Bee?”Dani says softly.
Belinda doesn’t look up right away.When she finally does, her face is pale.“I found something.”
Strange that she didn’t jump up and hug Daniela.But she’s been through a lot.We have to let her settle back into her routine.Kids need that.
We gather around the computer.On the screen is a grainy night-vision video.Belinda’s voice trembles through the tiny speakers—her voice from that night outside Gwen’s house.She’s talking to someone off camera.
“Do you remember his face?”Dani asks quietly.
Belinda shakes her head.“It was too dark.But…the camera had night vision.I can see him now.”
The figure turns on-screen.The hood slips off.The image sharpens.
Dani pulls out a file photo on her phone—Diego Vega.“Is this him?”
Belinda goes still.The silence stretches thin as wire.Then, in a small, horrified voice, she says, “That’s him.That’s the man who paid for my Uber.”
The room goes silent.
My blood runs cold.
That man has nine fucking lives, like a snarling tomcat who lives in a dumpster.
Vinnie’s eyes meet mine.We don’t need words.Every alarm in both our bodies is going off at once.
Before I can even process it, my phone buzzes again.Unknown number.
Maybe it’s the testing center scheduling the second test.The number is different, but maybe they use a separate line for reception.
I step aside, answer.“Hawk Bellamy.”
The voice that greets me is rough, distorted, like it’s crawling through gravel.
“Mr.Bellamy,” it says, dark amusement curling around the syllables.“You people are persistent.”
Vinnie stiffens.His head snaps up.“Put it on speaker,” he mouths.
I do.
“Who is this?”I ask, though part of me already knows.
“You’ve been trying to reach me,” the voice says.“Tell your family to stop.”
Vinnie nods sharply and mouths, “Vega.”
