The Brennan girl walked right past the Bentley.

Hollis Claybourne nearly swallowed his cigar. He cracked his knuckles. Veins pulsed in his oversized nose.

The little bitch had been inside his house!

His mind raced. Should he chase her down? The girl was only a half block away. He could finish this problem himself.

No. Too dangerous. He couldn’t risk grabbing her in broad daylight.!!!The kid will have to take care of it.

And I can’t be here, Hollis thought. I need an alibi.

Hollis pounded his fist against the screen seperating the driver’s compartment.

“Change of plans,” he said. “Back to the capitol.”

“You wanna go back, sir?” the driver asked. “We just got here.”

“Now, you imbecile!”

Hollis regretted hiring Baravetto’s moron nephew, but he needed people he could trust. His entire career was in jeopardy.

As the Bentley reversed down the driveway, Hollis yanked his cell phone from his suit jacket and punched the speed dial.

Two rings, then, “Yes.”

“The Brennan girl,” Hollis barked. “She and her friends must be dealt with immediately. I’ll be in Columbia.”

He heard an intake of breath. Cut off the response.

“And no more mistakes!”