Clicking off his interior lights, he drew his Sig Sauer from the glove compartment, then climbed out and pushed the car door in until the latch quietly held. He waited several seconds to let his eyes and ears take in the entire scene. Damn. All the landscaping crowded around the Center provided a multitude of places for a trespasser to hide.

He put a hand on the hood of Wally’s Jeep. Still warm, even in the cold night air. A brief stab of guilt hit him for dumping his team so abruptly in the Beef n’ Barrel. Couldn’t be helped.

He scanned the closest landscape beds for some sign of Wally. A stiff north breeze whipped across the parking area, stirring up leaves and debris. Barely visible through the treetops, the almost-full moon blazed bright.

He made his way past the large perimeter oaks to the interior sidewalk and began a slow circle of the building, checking sections of garden as he paced. All the offices on the west side of the building were unoccupied, and all windows were dark, a few with vestiges of their interior visible due to adjacent emergency lighting.

Rachel’s office just around the corner faced the back of the property. At this time of night, her office interior would be entirely visible with her lights on. Jake knew this because he’d snuck over here enough times in the last few months to observe her office from the garden. He was pathetic and every few weeks had needed a glimpse of her to get by. A wry smile twitched the edges of his mouth. He could’ve been called in as a trespasser on any one of those nights should someone have spotted him and cared enough to make the call.

Careful to remain off the sidewalk, he silently paced toward the back garden. If the trespasser was a stalker, then the perp probably knew the Center had no security guard and no security system. A fact that had always bothered Jake.

At the back corner of the property, he crossed the sidewalk to inspect the landscape areas adjacent to the building. With quick steps, he shifted from one landscape bed to another. Crouching as he left the larger camellias, he moved through the shorter azaleas and Indian hawthorn.

Clearing the corner, his position even with the back of the building, he paused to reconnoiter and stared at the faint pool of light cast by an overhead office. Rachel’s office.

As his gaze rose to the second-floor office, his eyes searched for the all-too-familiar figure. Without thinking, he straightened to his full height, clearly visible to anyone glancing out the window. Yet no one searched for a figure in the garden. All eyes in the office were busy.

Rachel stood with Olivia and her children on one side of the conference room. On the other side of the room, a man in a worn red jacket and baseball cap faced them—pointing a gun.

This was Jake’s horrible nightmare.