ARTHUR POV
I had been tracking that damn RV for days.
Days.
Long enough to let doubt crawl beneath my skin, cold and unwelcome. I hated that feeling.
And I hated uncertainty.
It was sloppy. Amateur. It made men hesitate, and hesitation got people buried. I couldn’t afford to hesitate anymore.
I stood in my office, jaw clenched, staring at grainy footage on the wall-mounted monitor. The screen froze and replayed the same seconds: the RV pulling away from the clinic, late-afternoon light on the windshield, vague silhouettes inside.
Carmen was in there somewhere.
She had to be.
And that was the problem.
Which RV was she in? There had been four of them. All pulling up front and loading one single female inside.
Four identical white RVs moved through the same stretch of road. The win
