Page 66 of Lethal Deceit

“Thank you, thank you, you have no idea… My baby. I thought my mom was watching her, and she thought I was.”

With the amount of fuss she’s making, people are stopping to stare. Not only that but the security guard is on his radio, his eyes on me, a cautious smile on his lips. Hopefully, he’s calling off the search. Again, I regret my choice to intervene. This is the opposite of what I need right now.

“No problem.” I try to hand the kid over, but she’s stuck to me like a leech. Her arms tighten around my neck like she’s known me longer than three minutes.

“Sammy, come to Mommy. Let the nice lady go,” her mom calls, rushing toward us with relief written all over her face.

Sammy?

I hesitate, shifting the little girl slightly in my arms. “Her name is Samantha?”

Her mom grins, brushing blond wisps off her forehead. “Samantha Jane. After my grandmother.”

I freeze for a second longer than I should, the name snagging like a hook in my chest.

Samantha.

What are the odds?

A sign? A message?

I don’t believe in either.

But for some reason, my heart stumbles over itself as I pass her off, like I’ve just given up something more than sticky arms and a warm cheek.

Names are just names. Coincidences happen. They don’t mean anything.

Still…

With my eyes sliding to the security guard and back to her, I return her smile. “Are you finished shopping? I had a fight with my boyfriend, and he left me stranded. I could really use a ride.”

The mom frowns at my fictional boyfriend then nods eagerly. “Absolutely. I’ll just find Mom, and we can take you anywhere you need to go. I’m parked right outside.”

Inwardly, I groan. I should have checked first. Who parks out in the open in Miami?

As the mom asks me if she can buy me a coffee or a smoothie by way of thanks, the security guard’s posture switches from relieved to anxious. He backs up a few steps and tugs at his collar, and rather than getting ready to call off the search, his eyes dart to the escalator below us.

Still holding a superficial smile on my face, I glance down, and my stomach flips.

Ohcrap.

Several security guards are on their way up, and two Miami PD are right behind them.

Mick

I tumble out of the car, barely waiting for it to come to a stop before half sprinting to the entrance. The late-afternoon heat clings to my skin, but I push through it, adrenaline drowning out everything else. Caleb outpaces me and reaches the sliding glass doors a fraction of a second before I do.

Adena catches up, breathless and holding a small black tracking device in her hand.

We enter the mall—an airy, upscale sprawl of polished concrete floors and skylights that flood the space with natural light. A giant sculptural palm tree rises from the center of the atrium, flanked by designer storefronts and the smell of espresso, cologne, and freshly opened packaging. Music hums low over hidden speakers, and a group of teens draped in boutique streetwear loiters near the escalators, scrolling their phones.

Caleb stops and scans the map close to the entrance, then he taps his finger where we are standing and along the most likely routes she would have chosen. “She had a twelve-minute head start, but she won’t stay here long. She’ll be looking for a way out.”

I run a hand through my hair, tugging at the roots, frustrated I let Samantha get away and worried for Brooke. “I should have taken the money.”

Caleb slides his finger to the exit points. “If she didn’t have money, she would have stolen whatever she needed.”

“Or found a guy to buy it for her,” Adena says.

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