It had taken him time to come up with the Hardin woman's whereabouts. He hadto grease a coupla palms, threaten to bust a coupla heads, but he'd traced herto this place.

Monk allowed himself a congratulatory smile as he performed a final equipmentcheck. Duct tape. Skinning knife. A really sweet Beretta.

His blood pumped hot as he swept the area with a trained gaze. It couldn't bebetter. The nearest neighbors were screened from view by a row of thickcypress trees, and the house was set back from the road far enough to preventobservation by a pa.s.sing motorist. Though he couldn't see the lake, he'd spentenough time cruising by in the fishing boat he'd rented to feel sure he couldblock any escape in that direction.

Finally, his mental checklist completed, he declared himself ready.

It's payback time. And I'm just the guy to do it.

She and the kid were alone. Monk had seen her man drive away just past dawn.Big guy he was, built for strength and speed, and moved like he could takereal good care of himself. Reminded Monk of the master sergeant at CampPendleton. A tough b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Sgt. Ruiz was. Ramrod of the commando unit Monkhad been part of for a while-before the b.a.s.t.a.r.d had washed him out for beatingup a Mexican wh.o.r.e who'd cheated him.

Monk tugged the bill of his cap lower to hide his face as he climbed out ofthe vehicle. It was frigging ninety degrees, and the new fishing vest he'dbought a few weeks back to help him blend in was d.a.m.n hot.

Being's as how the sarge was always ramming the concept of prior planningdown their throats, he figured Ruiz would be d.a.m.n proud of him. A clean killwas the mark of a skilled warrior, he'd said.

No noise, no mess. Just the way he'd handled those two brats he never wanted.

Twenty minutes tops, he told himself, checking his watch as he walked towardthe door. He would allow himself a moment to enjoy the terror in the woman'seyes, and then with one quick snap of his wrists, it would be done. When heleft, there'd be one less interfering woman in the world.

Chapter 14.

It was the fifth time in as many minutes that Jimmy had come into the kitchento check the new clock with the big red numerals Grady had bought in order toteach their son how to tell time. Every night they put in an hour's practice.Jimmy still mixed up nine and six, and sometimes one and eleven, but he waslearning.

"Grady's never been late before," he grumbled, plopping down at the kitchentable.

Riatucked the container of deviled eggs into the cooler and closed the lidbefore she allowed herself to check that same clock. Jimmy was right. Gradywas twenty minutes late.

"He'll be here," she a.s.sured her anxious son.

Jimmy upended the salt shaker and let salt pour out onto the table. When hehad enough, he laboriously traced anA with a fingertip in the grains. It wasan exercise Grady himself had invented when he was a kid.

"Mom, is Grady mad about something?"

"I don't think so, sweetie. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "He's real quiet when we go fishing, and he never talks aboutdoing stuff together anymore."

Riacaught the quick flash of hurt in the glance he sent her way. "What stuffis that, sweetie?"

"You know, guy stuff. Like going to the 500 next year so I can see the carsthe way he and his dad used to do. Or maybe fixing up an old car together."

"I'm sure he's still planning on all those things."

"Maybe," Jimmy muttered, going back to his task.

Trying not to think about the three nights that Grady had spent watching thelate show instead of making love to her,Ria poured herself a cup of the coffeeshe'd made in antic.i.p.ation of his return and carried it to the table. ThoughGrady still treated them both with easy affection, he'd been different sincethe night she'd come to think of as Jimmy's real homecoming.

She'd seen the hurt stagger into his eyes when he'd realized Jimmy blamed himfor not coming to his rescue. It was as though he'd shut down a part ofhimself at that moment.

She frowned, checked the clock herself, then got up to walk to the slidinggla.s.s doors to look out at the lake. The fisherman in the orange cap was gone,she noticed. In fact, the lake seemed surprisingly empty.

"Have you seen Old Whiskerface again?" she asked, turning.

"Uh-uh. Grady said we'd try again this weekend."

"Then you will." She took another sip, then frowned. Maybe he forgot the timethey were supposed to leave. Or gotten tied up in a meeting. She glanced atthe clock again and then at the cell phone on the counter.

"Sweetheart, would you be a love and fetch me the green-striped beach towelhanging on the clothesline? We'll need it to use as a tablecloth."

"Okay." Jimmy slid from his chair and headed for the side door.

As soon as he disappeared,Ria set down her cup and picked up the phone. Shehad just punched the last number when the front door opened.

"Oh, Grady, thank goodness-" Her voice faltered, then dammed.

The man standing in the doorway was a bulky, black-haired stranger with deadeyes. "Make a sound and you're history," he ordered, closing the door behindhim.

Panic screamed in her mind as he walked toward her. Somehow she battled it down. "All right," she said, praying that Grady would pick up the phone she heard ringing in her ear.

"Captain Hardin's office." It was Grady's a.s.sistant.

The man moved like lightning. BeforeRia could cry for help, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the phone from her hand and smashed it against the counter.

"Think you can put one over on Monk Benteen, do you, b.i.t.c.h?" His lips pulledback in a snarl, and her stomach lurched. Her mind started to splinter into pure terror. Somehow she pulled back.

She had to get him out of here before Jimmy came back with the towel.

"Of course not, Mr. Benteen," she said as calmly as she could. "Would you like a cup of coffee? I've just made some fresh."

If she could reach the pot- The blow caught her across the face, sending her reeling into therefrigerator. She hit hard, and pain exploded in her head. Her vision turnedgray, and she slid bonelessly to thefloor. He was on her instantly, grabbingher by the hair to jerk her head up.

"Where's my wife, b.i.t.c.h?"

"I ... I don't know, really I don't. I've called and left messages, but-"

"She's gone. She ain't got no friends but you."

"I swear, I don't know."

He drew a knife from his boot, his eyes animal sly as he slowly drew the tipdown her cheek. Her face exploded in fire. "Now, I'm gonna ask you one moretime. I don't get an answer, the next cut goes deeper."

Riafelt the blood dripping down her cheek. Her mind hazed, and her throatclogged with bile. Somehow she stayed on her feet.Don't panic,Ria . Think!What would Grady do?

Bluff, she thought. He would bluff.

"I ... have a number for her," she said, watching his eyes instead of the knife only inches from her face. "It's in my DayRunner."

His eyes narrowed. "You'd better not be lying."

She let him see her fear. "I'm not. I swear I'm not. We'll drive to the Center and I'll get it for you."

His pupils were pinp.r.i.c.ks, and he smelled of sweat and stale cigarettes. Itwas all she could do to keep from gagging. "All right, but if you're lying,I'll blow you and that precious Center to smithereens. I got enough plastiquein my kit in the van to do it and more."

"I'm sure you do." Blood was soaking her shirt now and wetting her skin. Thespreading stain was making her queasy. She swayed, and he grabbed her arm,shoving her hard against the counter.

"No tricks, b.i.t.c.h."

"It's not a trick. The sight of blood ... if we're going, we'd better go now.I'm feeling a little faint."

Please, please take me out of here, she wanted to beg. Anything to get himaway from the house. Away from Jimmy.

"All right," he said, "but if this is a trick..."

"It's not."

He grabbed her arm and shoved it up behind her. Suddenly awash in pain, shecried out. "Shut up, or I'll pull it clean out of the socket."

"Please, I'll be quiet," she managed, and he eased off.

"When we leave here, you're gonna walk in front of me real nice like, asthough we were good friends. One trick and I'll put this knife through yourspine. Might not kill you, but you'll never walk again, neither."

"Whatever you say."

He released her, and she moved toward the door. She heard him follow. She hadher hand on the doork.n.o.b when he grabbed her hair again. "Thought you saidyour DayRunner's at the Center."

Before she could answer, he spun her around. "Then what's that?" he demanded,pointing toward the table with the knife stained with her blood.

She didn't need to look. She knew. It was her calendar.

Jimmy knew he had to get help.

He'd seen the strange guy walk in the front door without knocking and wasabout to yell when something stopped him. Instead, he'd gone to the window andpeeked in. He was about to run for help when he'd seen the guy hit his mom.

Scared, he took off running toward the lake. Maybe the guy in the boat couldhelp, only the guy wasn't there. Then he saw the flag flapping in the wind,and remembered what his dad had said.

"Upside down. I have to make it upside down."

Darting glances at the house every few seconds slowed him down some. Hishands shook real bad too, but he managed to get the flag down the pole farenough so he could snap it free. His hands shook so bad it took three tries toget the slippery material twisted the right way. Finally, sobbing infrustration, he got the hooks through the holes, and then he was pulling onthe rope as hard as he could.

Grady saw the phone company van as soon as he pulled into the tree-lineddrive and remembered the chewed line he hadn't gotten around to fixing. Guiltcurdled the already-sour beer in his belly.

He slammed on the brakes and killed the engine, calling himself a few choicenames as he jerked the keys from the ignition.

Well, she even called the phone company to take care of the wiring. h.e.l.l, Reehad managed, hadn't she?

d.a.m.n straight she had. She didn't need him to take care of her. Too bad heneeded her, he thought as he pulled open the door, his apology alreadyhalf-formed.

His instinct kicked in one step too slow. Still, he had time to twist into ahalf crouch before the man's boot caught him a glancing blow in the groin.Pain took his breath, and he went down hard. He took another kick in the ribsand played dead. The odds that the guy would buy it were about as thin as theline between consciousness and oblivion he was riding, but it was all he had.

"Don't kick him again," he heardRia scream through the white haze.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d cop was asking questions, putting the screws on the cow I used to be married to."

"No, that ... that was my brother-in-law."

"Yeah? How come this guy has a badge clipped to his belt."

Grady knew it was coming and tried to brace, but the pain was murderous. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d had steel in the toes of his boots, and he felt his ribs give underthe blow.

"Don't hurt him anymore!"Ria begged. "I'll do whatever you say, only pleasedon't hurt him anymore."

"You cost me my wife, you b.i.t.c.h!"

"No, I-"

Grady heard the sickening sound of a blow, heard her scream. Somehow hemanaged to roll, to get a hand on his weapon.

The next kick caught him in the belly. He folded, even as the b.a.s.t.a.r.d slammedhis boot down on his wrist. He felt bones splintering.

"Freeze, or you're dead!"

Grady heard the harsh rasp of surprise, smelled the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's fear.

"Drop the pigsticker, you son of a b.i.t.c.h, or I'll gut shoot you where youstand."

Grady heard the sound of a blade hitting the tile and sent up a garbledprayer of thanksgiving.

"Step away from him, Mrs. Hardin, while I cuff the b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

Grady fought blackness long enough to see the lethal calm on Tom Delaney'scraggy face. Old Tom sure looked funny in that orange cap, but d.a.m.n, he wa.s.still one fine cop, he thought, just before he let himself sink.

They gave him the same room-416 West. He had a couple of the same nurses,too, who'd laid down the law d.a.m.n near as soon as they brought him back fromthe OR after fishing the splinters out of his lung.

Behave yourself buster,they'd warned,or we'll cuff you to the bed with yourown handcuffs.

He was trying, d.a.m.n it, but the tube in his side was driving him crazy. Everytime he moved, a hot poker stabbed a hole through his chest. Pain he couldhandle; it was the sick knot in his gut that had him climbing the walls. Afterall the promises he'd made-to himself, toRia , to the boy-he'd messed upagain.