'She left me something.' Now that he was here, Clay was afraid to go inside. But he knew he had to. 'Come with me. I don't want you alone until the cops find Reardon.'

'How do you know they'll find him?'

'He shot that cop this morning, the one who was guarding the doc at the morgue last night. Left him in critical condition. And he kidnapped Dr Trask. It's all over the radio.'

'Oh my God.'

'They will find him, it's just a matter of time.'

'That poor woman,' Alyssa said as she followed him into the motel.

If he kills her, her blood is on my hands too. Clay rang the bell on the desk and an elderly woman came out to greet him. 'My name is Maynard,' he said. 'Nicki Fields sent me.'

'Oh. All right. Can I see ID? Nicki asked me to make sure you showed ID.'

Clay obliged and the old woman hurried away. When she returned, she held a thick manila envelope. 'Thank you,' Clay said, forcing himself to take it.

When they were back in the car, he opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of papers. On top was a note, in Nicki's precise handwriting and Clay's throat closed.

Dear Clay, if you're here, I'm dead and Evan Reardon is responsible. As I write this, I'm hoping I can find him and deal with him myself. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know how badly I fucked up. I trusted Evan. I fell for him. I even considered running away with him, becoming Mrs Ted Gamble. Now I just want to take a few days off and fix this.

When Evan first approached me, I did a routine background check. One of the things I requested was his and his mother's documents from Newport News. The documents came weeks later after I'd already fallen too hard to see what I should have already seen.

The marriage license listed his mother as Yvette Bryan, not Yvette Smith as Evan told me. Evan had told me his mother's maiden name was Smith and that Timothy Reardon was her first marriage, that she'd had Evan out of wedlock. This was inconsistent and it bothered me.

Timothy died ten years ago, but I located his surviving sister. She said that when Yvette was drunk, she'd cry for her daughter, Ileanna. It's a pretty unusual name and it didn't take me long to find her death certificate. Ileanna Bryan was killed in a town called Anderson Ferry, Maryland. I went there and found her grave. She died when she was only seventeen. I went to the newspaper office and they pulled the articles you'll find in this packet. I'm now worried about why Evan never mentioned this.

That Evan came to me wanting a new identity is now very suspicious. I need time to figure it out, to make this right. If I get to the bottom of things and all is well, I'll come back and get my own package. If not . . . fuck it.

There was no signature. No goodbye. Clay handed the letter to Alyssa and started the car. He didn't need to go to Anderson Ferry now.

Wednesday, May 5, 10.30 A.M.

By the time Lucy reached Gwyn, her friend had pushed herself up to her knees. Lucy rested on her uninjured side, the knife still tightly gripped in her hands. Saying nothing, Gwyn awkwardly maneuvered until her bound hands came in contact with the knife.

Lucy watched Evan's body for any sign of movement, but there was none. Yet. Gwyn's movements seemed painfully slow, but only a few minutes passed before the rope broke and Gwyn was free. She twisted, grabbing the knife and sawing the ropes around Lucy's wrists.

'He's got a gun,' Lucy whispered. 'He shot a detective with it.'

'Can we get it?'

Lucy shook her head. 'It was in his waistband and he fell on it.'

'I could try to roll him over and grab it.'

'He's too heavy. I don't think you could move him and I'm afraid to try. He might come to. Just hurry,' Lucy breathed. 'We'll have to get out before he comes to.'

Finally the ropes snapped and Lucy rubbed her aching wrists. 'My leg is broken,' she murmured as Gwyn started on the ropes around her ankles. 'I don't think I can walk out of here, and you're not big enough to move me. You cut my mother loose and get her out of here. I'll free my father. Hopefully he's not too stiff to move. He's been tied like that since yesterday. If he can move, I can lean on him.'

'I have a better idea. We get ourselves out on that flatbed and send the cops for your parents.'

The ropes burst free and Lucy had to bite her tongue to keep from moaning. Goddamn, it hurts. 'I'm not leaving her here. He'll kill her. Get my mother out.' She cut through Gwyn's ankle ropes more quickly now that the blood was returning to her hands. 'My father can push me on the cart.'

'I'm not leaving you here for him to kill you,' Gwyn whispered. 'Try to stand.' Lucy did, but her leg buckled, unable to support her weight. Gwyn slid her arms under Lucy's armpits. 'On your butt,' Gwyn directed. 'I'll drag, you push with the other foot.'

Lucy complied, but all she could see were bright lights in front of her eyes by the time she reached her mother. 'Cut her loose,' she said and frowning, Gwyn obeyed. 'Now get her out of here. Do it,' she snapped when Gwyn started for the flatbed.

'Leave him here,' Gwyn said. 'I'll get you out and you can send the cops.'

Lucy shook her head again. 'As bad as he is, I can't leave him here either. Get your ass out of here and get her out, too. Get help.'

Lucy grabbed the knife and started sawing the rope tying her father. From the corner of her eye she saw Gwyn lift her mother to her feet and help her to the door, which swung closed behind them. The door opened again and Gwyn pushed a wheelchair through. It rolled across the floor, coming to a stop midway. Then she was gone again, getting her mother to safety. Getting help. Please.

Lucy removed her father's gag. 'Did you take the necklace?' she asked quietly as she sawed at the rope binding his hands.

'No. Hurry.'

She grasped the knife tighter, sawed harder until the ropes split. Ron massaged his hands as she started on the ropes at his ankles. When they broke, her father pushed unsteadily to his knees, then his feet. He'd been tied for so many hours, he couldn't stand straight.

Lucy pushed herself up so that all her weight rested on one knee. 'Help me up.'

He took a step back. 'No.'

'What?' Lucy stared up at him in disbelief. 'I helped you.'

'That's your problem,' he said coldly. He turned for the door, leaving Lucy open-mouthed in shock.

'Wait.' She grabbed for him, but grasped only air. 'Why?' she hissed. 'Why do you hate me? Why are you leaving me here to die?'

He turned around, rage contorting his features. 'It's always you. Always you. She wasn't my wife, she was your mother. She obeyed me, like a wife should, until it came to you. She only defied me because of you,' he spat, then shook his head in disgust. 'The wrong kid died, as far as I'm concerned. Whatever Evan does to you, you have coming.'

He turned again for the door, half-walking and half-stumbling as he made his escape.

'Sonofabitch,' she muttered, recovering. Evan would come to, any minute. Move. The wheelchair was closer than the flatbed. Crawl. She did, dragging her leg behind her, clenching her teeth against the pain. She was only a few feet from the wheelchair when she heard the clatter of metal behind her. It was the table that had held his tools being shoved aside. Evan was awake. Dammit.

'What the hell?' It was a cry of fury. 'Freeze, Trask.'

Ahead, Lucy watched her father stumble to a stop. Please, Gwyn, be getting help.

'Get back here, Trask,' Evan ordered. 'Hands behind your head.'

Her father looked like he might turn around, then broke into a run. Seconds later he hit his knees, Evan's bullet having struck him square in the middle of his back. Blood was spreading over his shirt and he fell face forward. For a moment Lucy couldn't move. Then she saw her father move slightly one hand extended to crawl.

'Don't move, Lucy,' Evan snarled when she did exactly that.

'I have to,' Lucy said fiercely. 'I have to stop his bleeding. He's still alive.'

Evan grabbed her arm, dragged her across the floor to where her father lay bleeding. He aimed for her father's head. Lucy closed her eyes and turned her face away as he fired again.

'Now he's dead,' Evan said flatly. 'No worries.'

Oh God, oh God. Breathe. Do not hyperventilate. Do not pass out.

Then the two of them froze as a sound outside grew louder. A helicopter. JD. Thank you.

'Fuck,' Evan snarled again. 'Move your ass, now.'

'Reardon!' came a voice from outside and Lucy started to hyperventilate again. JD. He's here. 'Police. This place is surrounded. Surrender.'

Evan yanked her to her feet. 'Move,' he barked, then dragged her, making her hop on one foot to keep up. He dragged her down a hallway to the door, shoved it open and put her in front of it, his gun to her head while he stood inside.

'Go to hell,' he yelled. 'I have a hostage. Let me on my boat. Let the two of us leave undisturbed and she'll live. Come a step closer and I'll kill her. I swear it.'

From where Lucy stood she caught a glimpse of JD and Stevie in tactical gear. They were here. Just hold on, she told herself. Just a little longer.

Wednesday, May 5, 11.00 A.M.

Everything had moved once they knew the address informing Hyatt, the race to the helipad, the ten-minute flight that would have taken forty to drive. But now, seeing that gun at her head, time seemed to stand still.

'She's alive, JD,' Stevie said in a low voice.

'I know.' But she was hurt. She was pale, her mouth pinched in pain, and she leaned all her weight on one foot. 'He's not getting on that boat, Stevie.'

'I know,' Stevie said evenly. 'We've got two dozen cops surrounding the place and snipers on the way. We need to establish what he's done with the others.' She turned to JD, assessing him. 'Do you need to step down?'

JD had not taken his eyes from Lucy's face. She was terrified, in pain. And staring back at him. Needing him. Trusting him.

'No,' he said. 'He could still have four other hostages, including Gwyn.'

'We need a negotiator.' Stevie grabbed the bullhorn. 'We need to talk, Evan.'

'No. You need to back off,' Evan yelled back. 'Or she dies. You know I will.'

'We know,' Stevie called. 'We're backing away. But we need to talk. Does anyone inside need medical attention?'

There was silence. Then Evan yanked Lucy from view and JD's heart skipped a beat. Minutes later a wheelchair came barreling through the door, a body slumped across the top. The chair hit the end of the sidewalk and pitched forward, the body flying to the ground. The victim was male and had bullet holes in his back and the back of his head.

'Ron Trask,' Stevie said. 'Shit.'

JD's cell rang, the number the one that had lured both Bennett and Gordon to their deaths. 'Fitzpatrick.'

'I don't need any goddamn medical attention,' Evan snarled into his ear. 'Now back off or your girlfriend will end up just like her daddy. You got three minutes.'

The phone clicked. 'He's going to kill her,' JD said in a voice that was both cool and controlled. 'Back everyone away fifty feet and let's figure how we're going to get behind him.'

Stevie gave the order and cars and cops began pulling back. 'You were studying that floorplan of the place on the way here. Which door will get us behind him?'

JD created the picture in his mind. 'We got ten doors and two loading bays. The door where he's standing leads to the main manufacturing room, where all the machinery is. If all the machinery on the plan is still there, he's got lots of places to hide to see us coming, whichever door we use, so we need to keep him in the doorway. Keep him talking.'

'So which door, JD?' Stevie asked quietly.

JD scanned the front of the building, then frowned. 'The one that just opened.'

Gwyn Weaver had slipped from the door at the far end of the building, flattening her body against the outer wall. She rounded the corner so that she now faced the water where both Edwards' cruiser and Trask's sailboat were docked. Her knees buckled and she slid to the ground. Reardon wouldn't be able to see her from the front door.

'Unit on the east,' Stevie said into her radio, 'get the woman away from the building. If she needs no medical attention, keep her there. We don't want to attract Reardon's attention.' To JD she said, 'I wonder if he knows she's gone.'

JD thought Evan probably did. 'You talk to him. Get him to come back to the door. I'm going in the way she just came out.'

'No way. We wait for backup, JD. I want the snipers here before we go in.'

'How long till they get here?'

'Twenty, thirty minutes. He's not going to kill Lucy yet. She's his way out of here.'

Twenty minutes was too long. In twenty minutes she'd be dead.

'But he will kill her, Stevie. It's what he came to do. We need to take advantage of time right now. He thinks we'll negotiate. So do that. But we need to get in there.' He stayed calm. 'I've done this before.'

'Keep talking.'

'The size of this place is on our side. He can't watch all the doors. He doesn't have to know the snipers aren't here yet, either. Let him think they are. And let him think you've taken me off the case. He needs to see us argue. You make me leave. I'll double back and go to Gwyn, find out what's going on inside, then I'll go in.'

She paused, then shook her head again stubbornly. 'I want the snipers here, JD.'

He clenched his jaw. 'What do you think I was?' he asked, and she let out her breath.

'This is different. This is Lucy. She's yours, JD.'

'Yes, she is. But he also thinks she's his. She's his revenge. I'm not willing to risk that he values his own freedom over making her die. Make a choice. You know he's watching us.'

She started shaking her head hard but then extended her arm, pointing away from the building as if ordering him away. She looked away from him, hanging her head. 'Hide behind one of the vans. I'll have them bring you a rifle.'

JD pretended to take a desperate step toward her, then ripped off his flak jacket in feigned disgust. He departed in an angry huff, pushing through the crowd of personnel who waited, poised to move. He ducked behind a van and put his jacket back on, then waited until a rifle was thrust into his hands by one of the state cops.

'Your partner says "Don't fuck it up",' he said. 'We'll cover you.'

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Wednesday, May 5, 11.05 A.M.