Trazelli made a few calls. He had people on the inside, officers on the force, motel clerks where he’d pay handsomely for an hour of their time. He tracked Julian to a lowly motel in a really sleazy little hamlet. It was appalling that he would take a child there, but if he did kill her, it wouldn’t leave any more stains on the already dark carpet.

Trazelli pondered the years of Julian’s service. He had taken one of his best girls, yet managed to kill her. He had lied his way through countless schemes, never got caught for trafficking, murdering, nor paying for love.

So why this time? Why did he mess up? He ran a light. He got caught, and questioned. He could have passed a lie detector, he’d done it before, but he asked for a lawyer? My lawyer! It didn’t make sense. It was like he was leaving clues for the police.

Julian! You traitor! You’re not going to kill her! You’re going to escape with her!

No, it can’t be. You think? You think she’s yours?

Trazelli laughed out loud. Then he frowned.