Adam's knees buckled. He stumbled away, one step, two, placing his palm on the back of the sofa to steady himself, his head swimming with horrified disbelief. It couldn't be. Not Lisa. No. No.

"But how? What happened?"

"Seems she had water in her fuel tanks."

"What?"

"The fuel is pale blue," Robert said. "If water is tinted blue and mixed with the fuel, a pilot just might miss that on a preflight. Especially if she's in a hurry to leave."

It took a moment for Adam to absorb what Robert was telling him, for one wicked word to form in his mind.

Sabotage.

A surge of pure hatred ripped through him. "You son of a b.i.t.c.h! You G.o.dd.a.m.ned son of a b.i.t.c.h b.i.t.c.h! You killed killed her!" her!"

Adam started back across the room, intending to wrap his hands around Robert's neck and squeeze until there wasn't a breath left in the man's body. At the same time, Robert yanked open a nearby desk drawer and hauled out a gun. Adam stopped short as Robert leveled the weapon at him.

"Don't take another step, Decker. Right now, everyone thinks you were on that plane. You're presumed dead. If I made it a reality, no one would ever know the difference."

Adam stared at the gun incredulously. "You won't shoot me. You might be able to sabotage a plane, but killing a man in cold blood-"

"Do you really want to take that chance? I don't have to account for a d.a.m.ned thing down here. Up to and including murder."

"Why? Because you have the entire Santa Rios sheriff's department in your hip pocket?"

Robert smiled. "Good call."

Adam had been fishing with that accusation, and it disgusted him to find out how right he was.

"So what are you going to do?" Adam said. "Are you going to shoot me?"

"Not unless I have to."

Still holding the gun on Adam, Robert stepped over to an end table, picked up the phone, and dialed. After a moment, he spoke in Spanish in a hushed but commanding tone, telling the person on the other end of the phone that Adam was standing in front of him right now. And telling him to come and fix what he'd screwed up so badly.

He hung up the phone. "Sit down."

"What's going on here?"

"Just shut up and sit."

It wasn't long before Adam heard a car engine and, after a moment, the sound of the outside door of the building opening. A few seconds later, two men came into the apartment whom Adam recognized immediately as frequent patrons of Esmerelda's, a local bar. Enrique Rojos and Ivan Ramirez were men who'd always seemed to be just one foot inside the law, and now Adam knew why.

They stood with their backs to the wall, their faces impa.s.sive, like soldiers awaiting orders. And, like soldiers, both men were armed. The precise moment Adam realized why, he felt as if a cold wind blew through him right to the bone.

He turned to Robert, swallowing hard, an indescribable sensation of dread nearly paralyzing his voice. "The woman whose baby I delivered. She and her husband know I wasn't on that plane."

"They're ignorant farm people with no communications. They're lucky if they even know they're in the twenty-first century. And even if they start thinking that maybe the time line isn't right, I'll simply tell them they must be mistaken. Do you really expect them to argue with me?"

Adam stared at the men's weapons, the desperation of a condemned man washing over him like a cold river. He turned back to Robert, searching his face for some kind of humanity.

Nothing. He saw nothing. Robert just stared at him evenly, as if the magnitude of his actions had failed to touch any part of his brain that might relay a little remorse.

"You're actually going to do this, aren't you?" Adam said, his voice hushed and disbelieving.

"Believe it or not, Decker, I always liked you. But I'm not a man who lets his personal feelings get in the way of business." He strode to the window and stared out into the night. "Do it quickly. One shot. And make sure the body's not found."

Gabrio Ramirez lay with his head propped up on a pillow, the lit end of his cigarette glowing red in the darkness of his bedroom. The radio was on low, but it sounded like nothing but noise to him. The stale, hot air in his room choked him, making it hard to breathe. He just lay there, staring at the cracked ceiling, wishing to G.o.d he could go to sleep, but there was no way. No way was he ever going to sleep worth a d.a.m.n again as long as he lived.

What the h.e.l.l had he done?

Watch her, Gabrio. That's your job. Make sure she puts those drugs on the plane. those drugs on the plane.

That was what his brother, Ivan, had told him to do, and that was what he'd done. When Lisa dropped the heart machine thing and the drugs had spilled out, he knew they'd found out.

He'd actually felt excited. Excited that he had important information to pa.s.s along to Ivan, who'd then pa.s.s it on to Dr. Douglas. He figured they'd shut things down for a while, then reopen once the heat was off. That had to be worth a few points in his favor, he thought, him being smart enough to see that something was up and report back. And pretty soon if he was smart like that, he'd be somebody important in the scheme of things, somebody other than just Ivan's kid brother. Then he found out that this was more than shoplifting or burglary or stealing car stereos.

This was murder.

They'd killed Lisa and Adam. Both of them were dead because of the information he'd pa.s.sed on. He should have known. He should have known known what was going to happen. How could he have been so stupid? what was going to happen. How could he have been so stupid?

Once, when he was hanging around the airfield, just playing it cool like he always did, Lisa had asked him if he wanted to go up in her plane with her. He couldn't believe it. He'd acted like it was no big deal, but when that plane took off, inside he'd felt so excited he almost couldn't stand it. She'd been nice to him like that. Taking him flying.

And now she was dead.

Gabrio ground out his cigarette, then swung his legs around the edge of the bed and sat up. Sweat trickled down his temples, and his stomach churned. He felt so hungry, but the only time he'd tried to eat, he'd thrown up, and he wondered if he might eventually just starve to death.

Maybe that would be for the best.

He fingered the silver crucifix that hung just beneath his collarbone, the one his mother had given him six years ago right before she died. If he closed his eyes and thought really hard, her face came back to him-so warm and pretty and smiling. To his ten-year-old eyes she'd looked like the Blessed Mother herself.

Then the phone rang.

Gabrio jumped at the sudden noise. He let it ring once, twice. Finally he walked to the kitchen, picked it up, and heard his brother's voice.

"Gabrio?"

"Yeah?"

"Meet us out on the humpback road north of town. We've got work to do."

Gabrio's heart jolted hard. Then the line clicked, and a dial tone droned in his ear.

As he slid the phone back to its cradle, his hands were already shaking. Nothing good happened under the cover of darkness, away from town, where n.o.body could be a witness. Nothing.

He bowed his head and took a deep breath, trying to think of any way he could say no. He wanted to stay right here and pretend that Ivan hadn't called him. But then he thought about how his brother had always looked back at him, waiting for him to follow in his footsteps, clapping him on the shoulder when he did as he was told and smacking the h.e.l.l out of him when he didn't. Disobedience was something his brother didn't put up with, and the people he a.s.sociated with didn't, either.

Gabrio fingered the crucifix again and mumbled bits and pieces of a Bible verse his mother had taught him, something about the valley of the shadow of death and fearing no evil. It didn't help, though, because the truth was that Gabrio feared evil. He feared it a lot. Because now, when he looked into his brother's eyes, that was exactly what he saw.

Adam lay in the backseat of Enrique's car, pulling against the rope that bound his hands behind his back, a subdued but frantic resistance to what he knew was coming. The rope ground into his wrists, but still he fought it, reaching for a miracle, praying for deliverance, even as he was filled with the sickening knowledge that these were his last few minutes on earth.

The car slowed. Stopped. Enrique killed the engine. In the sudden quiet, Adam could hear the pulse of blood racing through his veins and echoing in his ears.

Ivan got out and yanked the back door open. Enrique came around, and together they grabbed Adam's arms and pulled him from the car. Enrique opened the trunk, extracted a rifle, and lobbed it to Ivan.

Another car approached, headlights ripping through the night. For a moment, Adam was filled with hope. Then he saw who got out of the car.

Gabrio approached, his eyes widening when he saw Adam. "What the h.e.l.l is he doing here? I thought-"

"Slight miscalculation," Enrique said. "Seems he wasn't on the plane."

"But since everybody already thinks he's dead," Ivan added, "we're going to make sure that happens."

Every word they spoke sent waves of sickening disbelief through Adam. Was Gabrio a possible ally, or was he as ruthless as his brother?

"This is murder, Gabrio," Adam said. "You're crossing a line here, and you can't go back. Just by being here, you're guilty, too. You know that, don't you?"

"Shut up," Ivan said.

"How can you drag him into this?" Adam shouted. "He's just a kid!"

"Yeah, and all kids got to grow up, don't they?" Ivan turned to Gabrio. "You got any problem with this?"

"Course not," Gabrio said.

Ivan looked back at Adam. "Turn around and start walking."

"What are you doing?" Gabrio said.

Ivan grabbed Adam by the arm, spun him around, and gave him a shove. "Blood spatters."

Adam walked about ten feet to the edge of the road, stopping at the point where the shoulder took a steep dive down a hillside. He turned back to face the garish glow of the headlights.

"Turn around!" Ivan shouted.

Of all the ways Adam thought he might die, this was beyond his comprehension. Tremors of fear raced through him, the cold, dark terror that came from looking straight into death. He refused to give in to it. Instead, he met Ivan's gaze.

"No. If you're going to pull that trigger, you're going to have to look me in the eye when you do it."

"You think that's a problem for me or something?"

"s.h.i.t, man," Enrique said. "Shoot him, or I'm going to." Adam glanced at Gabrio. The kid stood stock-still, his eyes wide, not moving a muscle.

"You're not like them, Gabrio," Adam called out to him.

"You don't have to be like them. Don't ruin your life. Do you hear me?"

"Shut up!" Ivan said.

"Go to Sera. She'll help you. Just go to Sera-"

Ivan raised his rifle to his shoulder, and a shot exploded. Adam flinched at the last moment, but the bullet struck him in the chest and spun him around. The momentum sent him tumbling down the steep hillside, his head whacking hard on a protruding rock. It felt as if he fell forever before finally coming to rest at the bottom of the hill, his body twisted, his hands still bound tightly behind his back.

Oddly, he felt nothing. No pain. Nothing. Instead, he had the strangest feeling of floating, as if he were evaporating from the earth. A light appeared, a bright, stunning light that seemed to fill his mind. And in it, hovering like an apparition, was Sera's face, that sweet, beautiful face he wished to G.o.d he could see just one more time.

Even in these last moments of life, she was all he could think about, the only woman since Ellen who had stirred something inside him, the one woman who'd made him think about finding again what he'd lost that terrible night three years ago.

It was his last thought before he plunged into darkness.

Gabrio stared down the hillside, feeling the reverberation of the gunshot slice its way right through his heart, echoing forever through the stillness of the night. His breath came in short spurts, and he held it for a moment, trying to get it under control, even as the anguish he felt nearly knocked him to his knees.

"Gabrio," Ivan said.

Gabrio whipped around and met his brother's challenging stare. Ivan tossed him a flashlight.

"Go down there and make sure he's dead."

Gabrio fought desperately not to let his horror show on his face. No emotion. That was the goal. In his brother's world, if you felt anything you were weak. You couldn't even pause. Delay equals fear, and you never show fear.

"What's the matter, kid?" Enrique said with a mocking grin. "Afraid to touch a dead body? Huh? Afraid his ghost will come back to haunt you or something?"

"He's not afraid," Ivan said sharply, then turned to Gabrio. "Are you?"

"Course not," Gabrio said.

"Go," Ivan said.

In a daze, Gabrio eased down the hillside, sidestepping protruding rocks, fighting the nausea that welled up in his stomach. He only hoped he could keep from falling to his knees and throwing up.

He came to a halt beside the body, shining his flashlight on the man's face. Blood. Jesus Christ Christ, there was so much blood, pouring from a wound in his upper chest. And his head. He'd hit his head, and blood was spilling out there, too.

Tears burned in Gabrio's eyes, and he swiped his eyes with his sleeve, hoping it would just look like he was wiping sweat off his face. The man was still as death.

Crouching down, Gabrio reached out his hand, paused, then rested two fingers beneath Adam's jawline along the big artery there. He told himself he had to hold them there for only a few seconds, only until he was sure, but the shock of what he felt made his heart lurch.

A pulse.

Mary, Mother of G.o.d. He's still alive.

"Gabrio!" Ivan called out.

His brother's voice jangled his nerves. His brain grew foggy, and he couldn't think. He just couldn't think think. All he could do was feel-the terrible burning sensation in the back of his throat, that feeling of horror that slid along every nerve.

If he was going to be loyal to Ivan, he had to go back up that hill and tell him the job wasn't finished yet. But he knew what would happen then. One more gunshot. Close range. And then it really would be over.

You're not like them, Gabrio. You don't have to be like them. Don't ruin your life. them. Don't ruin your life.

Gabrio stood up and walked back up the hill. He stopped in front of Ivan, slipped a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it.