It was less than two feet from his hand.

“Don’t,” I said.

Harris didn’t listen.

He reached for the gun.

But as his fingers brushed the grip, my phone vibrated again, a violent, continuous ring.

A private message notification slid down from the top of the screen.

It was from *SourdoughSam*.

I tapped it with my thumb.

The text was short.

“Clara, we see him,” the message read. “The silver sedan is on the public traffic camera at the intersection of Highway 4 and Elm. We are watching the feed right now.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Julian’s rental car.

He had parked it under the pine trees near the driveway, but to get here, he had to pass the main highway intersection.

“They’re tracking the car,” I said aloud.

Julian froze.

“What?” he asked.

“The silver sedan,” I said, reading the screen. “They found it on the traffic camera. They’re updating the sheriff’s department with your location right now.”

Julian looked at Harris, then back at me.

“She’s lying,” Julian said. “She’s trying to stall.”