They felt a small b.u.mp and saw him get down to secure the ferry. She tried to hurry and finish untying her hands, but the kid was quicker than she was. He climbed in the van, walked over to Diane, and put his gun to her temple.

"I don't want any trouble. None." His voice was very quiet. "You understand, don't you?"

"Yes," whispered Diane. Her voice shook as she spoke, and he laughed.

"Good. I will shoot you." He shoved the muzzle of the gun into her temple until she winced in pain. "You know I will."

He hit Kingsley in the shoulder with his fist and went back to the driver's seat as Kingsley yelled in pain. Diane could see his eyes in the mirror. He looked amused.

"Arrested development," whispered Kingsley. "I think Rosewood is as far as this kid had ever been before now. G.o.d, that hurt. d.a.m.n little b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Diane watched out the front window as they drove along a winding dirt road. When the house came into view she was startled. She expected a rundown old mansion past its prime and falling into decay, with hanging vines and huge trees overrunning the place. What she saw was beautiful. The winding paved driveway led up to an oversized freshly painted Greek revival house with large white columns. The front gardens were filled with bed after bed of roses, lilies, and irises in full bloom. A black jaguar was parked in front.

The kid took an offshoot road, drove to the back of the house, and stopped in front of a rock building that looked like it might have been lifted out of Wuthering Heights Wuthering Heights.

"Here we are. It ain't home, but who the h.e.l.l cares," he said, laughing. "You can untie your legs now."

Diane made it look as if it was an effort to untie the rope as she pulled the end of the loop, releasing the bonds on Kingsley's legs. She did the same with hers. Bobby Banks didn't watch closely. He kept looking up at the house as if something up there worried him. When their legs were free he led them to the building, locked them in, and left them alone in the dark.

Little light seeped in past the shuttered windows. Diane tried the door but it was bolted shut from the outside.

"Don't undo your bonds yet," she said. "Wait until you have somewhere to run to."

"I do still have some wits about me," Kingsley said. But it wasn't a defensive comment, Diane noticed.

She and Kingsley tried the windows. All were nailed shut. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness. It was too much to hope that he had put them in a tool shed. It looked like Daniel Boone's bedroom. There was a twin bed with a gray wool bedspread, rough-hewn furniture. It was some kind of rustic one-room guesthouse with no bathroom.

"What is this, a playhouse?" said Diane.

"I don't know," said Kingsley.

"Why don't you lie down on the bed?" said Diane.

"We need to get out of here," he said.

"Yes, but you need rest and it would be good for them to think you're worse off than you are," she said. "If someone comes, they need to find you lying down."

Diane led him to the bed and made him lie down. He was just settled when she heard voices outside that sounded like they were coming their way. She took her phone from her pocket and checked the signal bars. No service, as she suspected. She put it on mute anyway and quickly put it under the chest of drawers, display side down, and stood up to meet whoever was coming to get them.

Chapter 49.

Diane was sitting on the bed with Kingsley when the door opened. She could see that it was two people but the light behind them kept her from seeing anything but silhouettes. She waited as they walked in. One was the kid; the other was a woman. The woman turned on a battery-operated lantern and put it on the table. It was a dim light, but Diane could see them clearly. Clymene.

She looked at Diane and Kingsley as if they were interesting specimens and nothing more.

"And why did you bring them here?"

She was dressed in a simple white cotton sundress with a small embroidered jacket. Banks carried a bucket that he set down on the floor. Diane saw that it had toilet paper and a bottle of something in it.

"I saw him," Banks said. "I was going to Jeeters and there he was coming out the door. I couldn't believe it. I had to do something."

d.a.m.n, it was an accident of fate, thought Diane. thought Diane.

"Why did you bring them here?" she repeated calmly.

"I didn't know what else to do. Now he's shot. It wasn't my fault; it was theirs. Do you think she'll get mad at me?" he asked.

"Let me tell her about this, okay?" she said.

Listening to their conversation, it suddenly occurred to Diane that this was not Clymene. The "her" they were talking about was Clymene. "Are you Lily or Rose?" she said.

The woman looked startled.

"Rose. How bad is your companion?" she said.

"Bad enough. I'm concerned about his temperature. I'm afraid the bleeding will start up again. He's recovering from a car accident he had a few days ago, and now this. He needs to see a doctor," said Diane.

"You are a doctor," said Rose.

"I'm not that kind of doctor," said Diane.

"You know anatomy. I'm afraid you will have to do. Do you need dressings?"

"No. If I change them, he'll start bleeding again," said Diane. "You know it's not a good idea to keep us here, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," she said. "He shouldn't have brought you here. But what's done is done."

Diane had been watching Rose and the guy she thought was Bobby Banks. They favored each other.

"Is he your son?" asked Diane.

"My son?" She looked startled again. "No. Joey's my brother."

Joey. Diane could see him as a baby kangaroo.

"You will have to stay in here while I sort this out," she said. "In the meantime, do you need food?"

"They just ate," said Joey.

"Did they? Well. I guess we won't prepare anything for them," said Rose.

The two of them left and locked the door.

"At least they left the light," said Diane. And their names, And their names, she thought. Not a good sign at all-like it didn't matter. she thought. Not a good sign at all-like it didn't matter.

A new wave of fear swept over her. She ignored it and looked inside the bucket. There was one roll of toilet paper and a bottle of hand sanitizer. Well, you couldn't say the Delaflotes weren't good hosts. She wished she were MacGyver. She was sure he could do something with hand sanitizer. Maybe blow open the back wall or something. Diane went to the door to see if there was a crack or hole where she could wedge some tool she hadn't found yet between the boards and pry them open.

"Splitting them up may get us somewhere," Kingsley said.

Diane walked back to the bed and put a hand on his head. It seemed warm. She untied his hands.

"I'll just tell them that since we are locked up and you are sick, it won't make any difference if your hands are untied and you will be more comfortable," she said. "Less strain on your injured shoulder."

"It is more comfortable." He rubbed his wrists.

"How do we split them up?" said Diane. "Jacobs said they are probably inseparable."

"He's right, to a point. The key, I think, may be with the boy. He's what, eighteen or nineteen going on thirteen? I'll bet he was born after Clymene was gone. I don't know where his mother fits into this, if she's alive, but it was Rose he went to get. He sees Rose as a mother figure. I'll bet she sees him as more of a son than a brother. I think Rose and Lily raised him. When did Clymene come back into their lives? We don't know, but her two sisters had already bonded with him. To Clymene he is just a kid. I'm just guessing."

"It sounds reasonable . . . but how do we exploit it?" asked Diane.

"I don't know. Just seize an opportunity when it presents itself. We know he screwed up big time and he's concerned that 'she' will be mad. I'm betting that the 'she' he's concerned with is Clymene and he is afraid of her. She's laid all these careful plans and this little runt comes along and screws everything to h.e.l.l. Rose was concerned enough to tell Joey that she would be the one to talk with Clymene. If we can make Clymene attack him and get them to defend him, we may be able to separate them enough that they will want to save themselves and the boy and sacrifice Clymene. It's a thought."

Kingsley stopped talking. She thought he had fallen asleep. She searched the room, this time opening all the drawers, taking the light and examining the inside of each. Looking for even a nail file stuck between joints. All the drawers were empty. Nothing.

Diane sat down on the only chair in the room, a plain wooden chair with no cushion. It squeaked when she sat down. She was feeling guilty about Kingsley. Maybe if she hadn't struggled with Joey the way she had, he wouldn't have been shot. She had been clumsy and slow and used bad judgment. The only thing she could do now was get him out of here.

She took the lamp around to all the corners of the room, looking for anything. She looked under the bed. The floors were wooden, dark with age like the rest of the room. She walked back and forth, searching for anything that may have been dropped, listening for a squeak in the boards. Most of them did squeak, but she couldn't pry any of them up. She went along the walls looking for loose stone. She found a couple, but they were not loose enough. Maybe she could use the chair leg. She went back to the chair to see how easy it would be to take apart and use a leg as a tool or a weapon.

"Don't you think you need your rest?" said Kingsley.

"I need to get us out of here," she said.

"This isn't your fault. It's mine, if anyone's," he said.

Diane pulled the chair over to the bed and sat down.

"Whoever's fault it is, we need to get out," she said. "You told the marshals you thought that if Clymene were cornered, she would give up to fight another day. Do you still believe that?"

"Yes, I do. But I have to tell you, now that I'm here in her clutches, I'm not quite as sure," he said. He reached for her hand. He felt warm.

"My wife is expecting me to check in with her. I'm sure Frank is expecting you to check in with him. I don't know about Frank, but if my wife thinks something is wrong, she will worry the FBI until they do something. Several people know we went to see Carley Volker, including the marshals. The Volkers will tell them Gramma gave us directions to the island. If we can stay alive, we will be rescued. I think the best thing for you to do is to rest like I am. I'm fine; I'm just conserving my energy."

Diane got up and tried looking out a slit in the closest window. She could just see a sliver of ground. Maybe she could pry the boards off this window. There was something she could see out there if she could just get the right angle. She tried to remember the image she saw driving up to the building. A field? A pond? Not that anything outside could help her in here.

"Come lie down beside me. You said we needed to eat and drink because it would be our last opportunity. That's also true of rest," said Kingsley. "You don't have to sleep. Just rest."

He was right. She was just using up energy. She put the chair by the door just so they could hear the noise if someone opened it. Kingsley scooted over and Diane lay down. It was not a comfortable bed and she was tense. She tried to relax.

"I implemented a plan just before Rose came in the door," she said.

"Oh? What was that?" he asked.

"I put my cell phone under the chest of drawers," she said.

"That's such a clever plan. I wish I had thought of it," he said.

Diane started to laugh. So did Kingsley. The bed shook.

"Please," he said. "It hurts to laugh."

"Joey didn't take our cell phones because we get no service out here and he thought they were useless to us. What he didn't think of was the GPS. Mine has a chip in it."

"That's right. Mine does too." He reached in his pocket and dug it out. "Maybe if we put it somewhere. Or maybe I should just put it back in my pocket. If both our phones turn up missing, they might get suspicious. You can say yours was in your purse."

Diane tried to relax, and it must have worked because she was awakened by the sound of the chair sc.r.a.ping across the floor.

Chapter 50.

"Were you trying to keep us out? That was pathetic." It was Joey. He had Rose with him.

Diane sat up. Kingsley stayed lying down. "I would like you and Agent Kingsley to join us in the dining room."

It wasn't Rose. That was Clymene.

Kingsley noticed the difference too. He sat up beside Diane.

"Clymene," said Kingsley.

"My name, as you apparently know, is Iris. That is what I prefer to be called."

"Hey, you untied him...." began Joey.

"Hush, it doesn't matter," said Iris.

"As you may notice, Joey has a gun, and he's rather reckless with it, so don't try anything," she said.

Iris stood aside and let them pa.s.s. Diane toyed with the idea of jumping one of them, but the last time she'd tried something like that, she had gotten Kingsley shot. She was hoping that going to the main house would afford other opportunities that were less risky.

The inside of the house was much like the outside. It was not decrepit, or shabby chic, or even gently worn. It was a showplace. There was no one particular style, just high-end furniture that looked comfortable and was beautiful to look at. There were vases of flowers everywhere, as well as pictures of flowers. All irises, lilies, and roses. In her mind's eye when Carley's grandmother was telling them about the family, Diane had pictured the house having dark rooms. The house wasn't dark; it was well lit and bright. She wondered whether Iris brought that to the house or it was always this lovely. With grounds that looked the way theirs did, and the house so clean, they had to have help. That made Diane feel more optimistic. There had to be other people around.

"What was that place we were in?" asked Diane.

"A place of contemplation," Iris said. "Please . . ." She gestured toward a door.

It opened into a dining room. There was a long, light oak table with matching buffets and china cabinets. Iris' sisters were putting food on the table. All three sisters were dressed alike. Diane thought they were a little old for that.