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CHAPTER ONE

Time for answers.

And with any luck, Cora Shields was going to find them here, under this derelict old railway bridge. This was the prearranged meeting point that had been set up by her ex-Mob connection. It had been changed twice in as many hours by the other person, whose name she didn’t know. Whoever she was meeting was careful, paranoid, or both. That was a good thing, in her book. It reassured her that they were serious.

She was sure she was being watched. She was ex-Navy SEAL, ex-FBI. They would know that, and be wary of her.

Of course, if they actually looked up her record and the more detail they uncovered, the more they might realize she was less like law enforcement and more of a renegade. But she didn’t know if that would cause them to trust her more, or be more wary.

If there was any level of trust, then in a few more minutes she might find out what had happened to her sister Rose.

Cora waited, her back pressed against the crumbling bricks, her black bomber jacket zipped up and covering the tattoos on her slim, wiry arms, a woolen hat pulled down to cover her auburn, half-shaved hairstyle. Her hands were aching with the cold. She wore gloves that hid the fact one of her fingers was missing.

These things happened during combat. Decisions didn’t always go the way you hoped they would. She hunched her shoulders, shifting her feet.

It was freezing. An early cold front was tightening its grip on West Virginia. A chill wind was rustling the weeds that had pushed their way through the crumbling concrete blocks under the bridge. In the distance, she could hear the rush of traffic from a main road, but the road wasn't in sight.

She shivered, but not from the cold. The sickening feeling in her gut when she thought about Rose was far worse than any physical discomfort.

Rose, who'd been taken by Gabe's father, Buddy Finch. He'd gotten a hold over Rose somehow when she was in her last year of school. Being a coach, he’d been well placed to do that. He had charmed her, she'd trusted him, he'd grabbed her. At least, that was what Cora guessed had played out. Rose had gotten away though, but Cora didn't think where she'd gone was any better.

When she'd confronted Gabe's dad, he'd told her some information, but not everything. She'd been threatening, pressuring him for more details, but he'd shot himself in the head.

Now, all she knew, thanks to the slim lead she'd obtained, was that Cora had escaped with a Mob man, a guy called Mario. Buddy had apparently done some business with him, although she wasn't sure when. That was where he and Rose must have connected.

Cora knew an ex-Mob man, Gianni Umberto. He’d been a low level employee for decades, and she'd leaned on him for answers. To get them, she'd promised to sell her soul, to do a favor in turn for the mob. Details unspecified. But she knew that they would not forget, and that when she least wanted it, they'd come calling on her to uphold her side of the deal.

Better not to think about that.

Better, instead, to think about the footsteps that she could now hear approaching, rustling along the leafy pathway, the approaching person not yet visible.

A man came into view. She didn't know him, had never seen him, and she had no idea of his name. But she was sure, because of the precautions, that this sallow-faced, dark-haired man was with the Mob, and that he might be mid-level or even higher.

Ex-FBI instincts didn't die easily. She might no longer be with the Bureau, but she could still spot a gangster a mile out, along with that concealed firearm he was carrying on his left side.

Left-handed then, a trait that she might need to know if this confrontation turned bad. She hoped it wouldn't.

"Cora?" he asked her.

"That's me." She stared at him head on, letting him take her in, her perfect oval face, her hard, sea gray eyes. She stayed with her back against the wall.

"You want to know about Mario's girlfriend? Rose?"

The name was like a knife in her heart. She had to struggle to keep a straight face.

"Yes," she simply said.

He was silent, staring at her for a while, and she felt her stomach constrict, because there was something about his stance, his silence, which told her even this experienced mobster was finding it difficult to say what he needed to.

"Look, this was not my decision. I didn't make it. I didn't authorize it and I was not involved. But a while ago, Mario crossed a line he shouldn't have."

Cora stared at him. "With Rose?" she asked incredulously. He shook his head.

"With other business," he told her. His voice was deep, with a strong Italian accent.

She clenched her fists and took a step forward, closer to the mobster, who tensed immediately, his left hand lowering.

"What do you mean, other business? What does that have to do with Rose?" she demanded.

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