"I . . . um . . . I"-Hank looked like a rat caught in a trap-"I . . . I'm trying to quit," he offered lamely, his hand resting protectively over the pack in his pocket.

"And I think that's plumb admirable. I do," she crooned. "But I'm dyin' here, so if you don't mind. Just one."

Suddenly Dirk was as interested in the mysterious pack as she was. He reached over, brushed Hank's hand away, and tapped it with his fingertip.

"You don't wanna give the lady a cigarette, huh, Hank, my man?" he said. "That's downright ungentlemanly of you."

At that moment, La Cross opened the door and walked back into the room.

Dirk said to her, "Did you search this fella good before you brought him in?"

La Cross's feathers ruffled. "Of course we did. We'd never bring a prisoner in without making sure they're weapon-free."

"How about contraband-free?" Savannah asked.

"What are you talking about?" La Cross responded.

"He's got something there in his cigarette pack that he's guarding like I'd guard a box of G.o.diva truffles," Savannah told her. "I think you'd best be finding out what it is."

"You can't search my . . . You can't search nothin' of mine without no search warrant!" Hank said, clamping both hands over his shirt pocket with all the drama of a bad Shakespearean actor who'd just been run through with a fake sword onstage.

"Of course I can," La Cross told him as she walked over, placed her hands on his shoulders, and squeezed-hard.

"Ow! That hurts."

"So put that cigarette pack on the table and it'll stop hurting," she told him.

Reluctantly, with a hangdog look on his face, he did as he was told.

Savannah s.n.a.t.c.hed up the pack. A second later, she had it unwrapped.

The thing was stuffed with wads of toilet paper, instead of the drugs she'd expected. Some pot maybe? A few bindles of meth perhaps?

She pulled out one bit of tissue after the other and tossed them onto the table. Dirk and La Cross watched her, confusion mixed with expectation on their faces. Hank looked like he wanted to fall through a crack in the floor and never crawl out again.

Finally, Savannah got to the bottom of the pack; all that remained was a small ball of tissue.

When she took it out, she could feel something hard and round wrapped inside.

"Well, now," she said. "What have we here?"

Even before she got it completely unwrapped, she knew what it was by the feel and the shape of it.

It was a magnificent engagement ring. The center stone alone was at least two carats of glistening princess-cut diamond.

"Just lookie here! As pretty a little bauble as I've ever laid eyes on," Savannah said, holding it up to the light and turning it this way and that, watching it sparkle.

She stuck it under Hank's nose. "It appears our friend Hank was getting ready to pop the question to some lucky lady."

When he didn't reply, she added, "Oh, wait a minute. If Hank here was to work five years, he couldn't pay this thing off. In fact, if he were to sell that motel he works in, he couldn't afford something like this."

"Which means," Dirk said, taking the ring from her hand, "that he probably came by this in an unscrupulous manner. Whatcha wanna bet?"

Savannah was already texting Tammy. She had a hunch, and she needed proof. Something told her the sunshine girl could get it for her pretty quickly.

"It's fake," Hank said. "I won it at the ringtoss on the pier."

"I don't think so," La Cross said, looking it over. "This is a platinum setting and a quality diamond. You stole this."

"I didn't steal nothin', and you can't prove it!"

"Then why were you carrying it next to your heart there in a cigarette pack?" Savannah asked.

"I bought it!"

"A minute ago, you won it," Dirk said. "Make up your mind."

"Just take us to your jeweler," La Cross told him. "You know, the one you shop at on Rodeo Drive. If he vouches for you, no problem."

Hank propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands. "I didn't steal it! Really, I'm telling you the truth. I swear to G.o.d!"

"Then how did you get it?" Dirk demanded. "And it better be good."

Hank reached up and pulled long and hard on his ponytail in a nervous gesture, which made Savannah wince. It had to hurt. Finally he said, "Somebody gave it to me, okay?"

"Who?" Dirk asked. "You don't look to me like a guy who'd be gettin' diamonds from women. Or men either."

Savannah's phone vibrated in her hand. Trembling with antic.i.p.ation, she read the message from Tammy and opened the two pictures that she had sent, as requested.

It was all she could do not to cheer, cry, and laugh out loud, all at the same time.

"Oh, Hank, Hank," she said, showing him the first picture, "look at that. Your a.s.s is gra.s.s, and the power mowers are a-circlin'!"

Chapter 24.

"What is it?" Dirk asked, leaning over and peering at the small picture on Savannah's phone.

Chief La Cross did the same and looked as puzzled as he did.

But Hank Jordan didn't look confused. He knew exactly what he was seeing there in that tiny image.

Judging from the pallor of his skin, Savannah wondered which he would do first, throw up or faint.

Savannah turned to Dirk. "That first picture is of Amelia Northrop. It's her publicity head shot. And you can see that ring there on her hand."

Dirk held the cell phone practically against his nose and squinted. "Okay, if you say so."

"Okay. For you old folks without your gla.s.ses, here's the zoom shot."

She showed them the close-up of Amelia's hand. There was no mistaking the distinctive design of the ring. It was a match.

Savannah pulled the chair she had been sitting in close to Hank and sat down beside him. Summoning as much fake concern and sincerity as she could muster, she said to him, "I believe you, Hank, when you say you didn't steal that ring. I believe Amelia gave it to you."

"Well, I don't!" La Cross interjected. "He took it off her finger just before he shot her there on the beach."

Savannah gazed into Hank's eyes, trying to convey understanding. "I don't believe that, Chief. It'd be one cold-blooded b.a.s.t.a.r.d who'd rip a ring off a lady's finger right before he killed her. Now just look at this man. He's not like that."

"That's right!" Hank was so happy to have found an ally. "I wouldn't do something like that. I'm telling you-she gave it to me."

"How did you meet Mrs. Northrop?" Savannah asked as casually as she could, considering that she would have much preferred to just reach out and squeeze his weasely neck until something cracked.

"She came by the motel one day. Said she'd done some research about the people on the island and I interested her."

"I'll bet you did. What happened then?"

"We got to be sorta like friends, and she gave me that ring."

In her best "Big Sister Mode," Savannah reached out and adjusted Hank's collar. "Now, Hank, we know she gave it to you for a reason. Like maybe a payment for something?"

He suddenly looked wary. "Um, no. Nothing like that."

"Oh, I think it was. In fact, I think Amelia had found out that her husband was being unfaithful to her, so she did some research on people living on the island and came across you."

Hank just looked from one of them to the other and kept playing with his ponytail, so Savannah pressed on. "After doing a criminal background check on you, she probably thought you'd be her best bet."

"For what?"

"To kill her husband and his lover. That's why you wounded Northrop and tried to kill Chief La Cross here. If you'd been a better shot, they'd both be dead, huh?"

When he didn't reply, Dirk chimed in with his own questions. "What happened, Hankie boy? Did Ms. Northrop get mad at you for blowing it and threaten you somehow? Is that why you chased her on that beach and killed her in cold blood?"

"No! That's not it at all!"

"Then you'd better fill us in right now on all the gory details," Savannah told him, "or you're about to go down as one of the ugliest, meanest killers in history. People all over the country are gonna cheer when you get the needle. You killing a pretty young gal like that for no reason, and all."

"It wasn't for no reason! I mean, it wasn't just me! I'm not going to jail all by myself when-"

"When what, Hank?"

"When killing her wasn't even my idea!"

The moment he said the words, Savannah could tell he wanted to take them back. But it was too late.

Her face was only a few inches from his. Her eyes were filling his vision when she said, "Murder for hire is one of those 'special circ.u.mstances,' Hank. Punishable by death. You could get the needle for this if you don't give Chief La Cross what she needs here."

A flicker of hope registered on his face. "You mean, if I tell her who hired me, I won't get the needle?"

La Cross started to speak; Dirk reached over, put his hand on her arm, and squeezed.

"You'll not only have to tell her who it was, but you'll have to help us prove it."

"Like set him up? Wear a wire? Get him to confess?"

"Exactly."

"And then I won't get the death penalty?"

"If you aid law enforcement in apprehending all guilty parties in this crime, Mr. Jordan, I'm certain your cooperation will serve to prove your great remorse. I can a.s.sure you that your actions will weigh heavily in the scales of justice, on the day you're sentenced."

"What?"

She lost her patience. "Who the h.e.l.l was it? Northrop?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because he found out she'd hired me to shoot him and the chief here, and that she'd given me her wedding ring to do it. That really p.i.s.sed him off."

"Go figure," Dirk mumbled.

"He figured out it was me from some paper she'd left there at the house with my name on it. So the day he got out of the hospital, he called me and offered me a hundred grand to do it."

Jordan shrugged. "I've been broke my whole life. You couldn't expect me to turn down a deal like that!"

"Of course not," Savannah replied evenly. "How did you get her to go to the beach with you that morning?"

"I was waiting for her outside her house, by her car. I told her we had to talk, that I wanted some more money until I could fence the ring. I got her to take a ride with me."

"Once you got down to the beach, what happened?"

"I told her what her husband had done, how he'd offered to pay me to kill her. I told her if she wanted to up his ante, I'd consider it."

Savannah felt her blood temperature plummet. This guy was sitting there, discussing his heinous crime as though describing a fishing trip with his best buddy.

"But she didn't even want to talk about it. She sorta freaked out and jumped outta my car and ran down toward the water. I guess I don't have to tell you two the rest, 'cause you were there."

"You saw us?" Savannah asked.

"Sure. I thought about taking you guys out, too, but I figured it'd be easier just to get away from there. I figured she'd croak before she told you anything. She didn't look like she was gonna make it."

By then, Savannah's blood felt like it had reached subzero. She knew she had to get out of that room before she tied into him and tried her best to kill him with her bare hands. Deep in the most primal part of her being-a part she couldn't deny, but didn't want to have to see with such stark clarity-she wanted to see him dead. As dead as that young woman on the beach.