A Chip and a Chair (Seven of Spades, #5)(73)

“This morning.”

“Okay. She probably just got caught up in her volunteer work. Her phone may have run out of battery, or the service may be spotty where she is. You know it’s been going in and out.”

Dominic liked Natasha, but with Levi missing, he didn’t have the mental energy to worry about anyone else. Natasha was smart and resourceful; she could take care of herself.

“I talked to her CERT supervisor. She checked in this morning and then vanished; nobody’s seen her since. It’s not like her at all. I know something terrible happened.” Ezra’s voice cracked like he was on the verge of tears. “These past few days have been a nightmare. Levi barely making it out of the city alive, and Sawyer being accused of being the Seven of Spades, I mean, Jesus-”

“Do you know Sawyer?” Dominic asked in bewilderment, because Ezra’s tone implied a sense of personal betrayal.

“Yeah. We went to law school together-we used to be good friends, actually.”

Dominic went absolutely still.

“We’ve drifted apart over the past few years, but I still find it hard to believe he could be a serial killer. I guess you never really know people the way you think you do.” Ezra sighed. “After we graduated, we used to give each other crap about how we’d both gone into defense law, but for such different reasons. He’d call me a bleeding heart, and I’d say he’d sold his soul to the devil. Thinking back on it seems gruesome now.”

“So . . .” Dominic’s throat was bone dry; he licked his lips, swallowed, and tried again. “So after you graduated law school, you stayed in touch for a while? Discussed your cases?”

“Well, nothing that would break privilege. But we traded war stories, yeah. There was always something crazy going on at his firm.”

Dominic clutched the bed rail with his free hand. Rebel sat upright, reflecting his tension in the stiff lines of her body.

“You said Natasha’s been MIA since this morning?” Dominic asked, striving for a normal tone of voice.

“Yes. I have no idea where she could have gone.”

Dominic wished he didn’t, either. “This is going to sound weird, but it’s important. Did you and Natasha go away for Christmas this past December?”

“Uh . . .” Though clearly puzzled, Ezra didn’t question him. “No, we stayed in Vegas. It didn’t make sense for us to travel for Christmas, because Natasha had to fly out for a social work convention in Chicago the day after.”

The Seven of Spades had murdered Grant Sheppard in Philadelphia on December 27.

Dominic shut his eyes tightly; his stomach pitched and rolled, and it had nothing to do with his concussion. “I’ll look for her,” he heard himself say, his mouth speaking independently of his horrified brain.

“You will?” The bright hope that rang through Ezra’s words twisted Dominic’s heart inside out.

“I’ll do everything I can to find her. I promise.”

“Thank you so much, Dominic. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that.”

Don’t thank me yet, you poor son of a bitch.

Shell-shocked, Dominic ended the call, dropped the phone on the table, and stared at nothing. He was wrong. He had to be. It didn’t make any sense.

Except he wasn’t-and it did.

“Dom?”

He jerked his head up to see Martine in the doorway. Whatever expression was on his face made her snap to attention and take several quick steps into the room.

“What is it?” she asked.

He shook his head mutely, unable to speak the words aloud, and then winced as his dented skull reminded him what a bad idea that was.

She came closer to his bed. “I asked your mother and Carlos to wait outside for a minute so you and I could speak privately. They said you’re leaving the hospital?”

“Yeah.”

“I won’t try to stop you, but . . .” Her lower lip quivered, and she made a helpless gesture with her hands, more defeated than he’d ever seen her. “I don’t know what to do next. We’ve been combing the Valley for Levi all day; there’s no trace of him anywhere. Then again, we have no way of knowing which of our own people might be working against us, or who can be trusted.”

Struck by the horrific irony of her statement, he made a quiet, pained noise-one she misinterpreted as grief, judging by the way she reached out a comforting hand.

“We thought Sawyer might be our best bet, so we released him from custody this morning and kept his tail as discreet as possible, hoping he’d track Levi down on his own. But he just went back to his apartment and hasn’t budged all day.”

“Sawyer’s not the Seven of Spades,” Dominic said.

“What?”

“And we don’t need to find Levi. All we need to do is find Natasha.”

“Why Natasha?”

He still couldn’t say it, so he looked at Martine, waiting for her to connect the dots on her own.

“Oh, come on,” she said with a snorting laugh. “You can’t be serious.” When he didn’t respond, the incredulous smile slid off her face like melting candle wax. “You’re serious?”

“I need to get out of here.” Dominic hit the call button for the nurse. “And I need a gun.”