house. Then we’ll have some dinner and settle in for the night.”
She noticed him looking in the rearview mirror. She turned around but didn’t see any cars. “Did you see something?”
“No. Just being extra cautious.”
“Do you have a theory about who that was at the first safe house?”
“I have a lot of theories. But it would be logical to hypothesize that all of these threats today have been from the East River gang. That’s what I think is most likely. If Diaz is involved, I think it’s through his connection to East River. He’s a powerful man with a lot of resources.”
“How closely have you looked at the possible connection between Diaz and his cousin Lucas Jones?”
“Not deeply enough. While you were outside with Elena I put in a quick call to a former colleague at the FBI asking him to work that angle. The shooting at the courthouse was something the gang would definitely do. Your testimony threatens to convict Diaz of murder. Someone with his power and influence can’t be underestimated. Even if Diaz and Jones aren’t on the best terms, Diaz could’ve provided him with a huge payout to get the job done.”
“I agree with you on that.”
“I know it’s hard, but just try to relax. We’ll be at the next safe house soon.”
But how could she when his eyes kept darting to the rearview mirror?
* * *
Morning light filtered through the closed blinds as Max paced the first floor of the safe house, clenching and unclenching his fists in an effort to calm his nerves. Fortunately, last night had been uneventful. Not that he’d slept much. It had stormed most of the evening. According to the weather report, there was no end in sight to the line of powerful storms moving across the South. The strong summer rain pounded down outside and thunder roared.
He’d decided that even though she was determined to testify, it would be too dangerous to get Sydney into the courthouse today. His first order of business then was to talk to the prosecutor and the FBI to try to get a security-based continuance. Given the circumstances he had no doubt that the judge would grant it.
When he walked into the kitchen Sydney sat at the table with a cup of coffee. Her long hair was loose and flowed down around her shoulders. She was attractive, but she wasn’t just a pretty face. He’d seen her take down that attacker with strength and determination.
Sensing his presence, she looked up. “Good morning.”
“Were you able to sleep?”
“Not very well.” She paused. “But probably a bit more than you did.”
“I’m able to function on very little sleep.”
“From all those years undercover in the gang unit?”
“Well, that’s a big part of it.” He paused. “Elena must have told you about my background.”
“Yes, she did. She spoke very highly of your track record at the FBI.”
“After a while, you learn how to operate without much sleep.”
“Whatever it is, I thank God that I’m still alive today.” She looked up at him.
“You’re a believer, I take it?” he asked.
She nodded. “My faith is tied to who I am. I honestly wouldn’t have made it to this point in my life if it hadn’t been for my faith.”
He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. She was an artist, after all, and in his experience they were emotional, empathetic. Both things he was not. Things he had rejected years ago. In fact, he was the complete opposite. Some people even called him cold and calculating. But it came with the turf, and it made him good at his job.
She stood, walked to the cabinet and pulled out a cup. “Coffee?”
“Thank you. Black, please.”
She poured him a cup and then turned around, her eyes full of life. “I’m not judging you, but I take it by your silence that you don’t share my views on faith?”
He sat down and wondered for a moment how he should answer. The last thing he wanted to do was alienate this woman. But he also had to be truthful. “I’m not a religious person—at least not anymore. I rely more on a rational and scientific approach to life these days.”
She smiled. “Saying you are or aren’t religious carries a lot of connotations with it.”
He sipped his coffee and considered his response carefully. He decided to take the direct approach. “I don’t go to church, Sydney.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Is that how you were raised?”
“Actually, no. My parents were both churchgoers. I was expected to attend church with them every Sunday until I left home to go off to college. When I was young I considered myself a Christian and felt good about it. I enjoyed going to church. As I grew up, though, I started having second thoughts. In my experience, just because people went to church didn’t make them better people. Actions speak a lot louder than words. By the time I got to college I had a healthy and logical skepticism about the entire thing. I took a few classes on different religions in college. I viewed them in the same way as I did my other coursework in philosophy.”
“I wasn’t raised by people of faith. My dad was never in the picture, and my mom didn’t see any point in going to church. But when I found God, my life changed forever.” She put down her cup and smiled at him. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to try to convince you to change your mind. I believe we each find our way in our own time. But I do believe with all my heart that God is watching over us right now. Both of us.”
“If that makes you feel better, then I’m all for it.”
She shook her head. “It’s not just about making me feel better. I realize you don’t think this, but God is not imaginary. Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”
He shrugged his shoulders. His phone rang, and he was glad to have an out from the awkward conversation. The last thing he needed was a lecture on faith. He knew better. He’d lived through a childhood with parents who acted one way on Sunday morning and a totally different way the rest of the week.
“Deputy Preston,” he answered.
“It’s Elena. We have a problem.”
“What?” Immediately his pulse started to thump.
“I just got off a conference call with local police and the FBI. Kevin Diaz has violated the terms of his bail. He’s not in Atlanta, and no one on his staff or his legal team knows exactly where he is. Or if they do know, they aren’t saying.”
“What? You can’t be serious. How in the world did that happen?”
“His lawyers are trying to say there has been some sort of miscommunication about his schedule. They’re pushing back hard that there’s nothing wrong here, and that Kevin will be located promptly. But the judge
