Jake said, “Seriously, name the place. I’ll take you.”

“Can’t do it,” Rye said. “Someone might have seen you leave with us. If you’re asked later, you can honestly say you left us at the airport. After that, you don’t know.”

“Is this business with the police that serious?”

“No. But her patient is.”

Jake looked at Brynn in the rearview mirror. She said, “I can’t discuss it, but it really is a life-or-death matter.”

Jake gave a solemn nod. “Airport it is.”

“You fly?” Rye asked.

“Oh, yeah. I have a Bonanza.”

“Sweet.”

“Mine’s older, but refurbished. Put in a new engine two years ago. I was off today. Hadn’t been for the fog, I would’ve taken her for a spin.”

“What’s your day job?”

He laughed. “Flying.” He named the freight carrier he flew for.

Brynn and Rye looked at each other. He raised his eyebrows as though asking her if Jake was their man. She was about to nod yes when Jake said, “I fly at zero zero thirty. Quick round trip to KC. Back by breakfast.”

Which meant that he wasn’t available tonight, and Brynn realized she was disappointed. She liked Jake Morton. She got a sense that Rye did, too.

He asked, “How did you know me? Have we crossed paths?”

“I was in Afghanistan same time you were.”

Rye tensed up, the change in him drastic enough for Brynn to feel. Jake kept talking. “I flew C-130s in and out of Bagram. Troops. Pallets of water. Jeeps. You name it. Didn’t fly into the worst of the shit like you did, but I heard all the stories. Never thought I’d get to meet you.”

Rye turned his head away and looked out the window, saying in a subdued voice, “Thanks for your help tonight.”

“No problem. I consider it an honor.”

The airport traffic was more congested than usual, but Jake inched his car toward the curb, then lurched into a space left by a departing minivan. Rye opened the back seat door on the passenger side. “Don’t bother getting out, Jake. We need to hustle.”

“Understood.” Seeing that Rye was about to remove the ball cap and give it back, he said, “Keep it, but I would like to shake your hand.” He stuck out his hand over the seat back.

Rye reached forward and they shook.

Jake said, “There’s not a flyer in the world who wouldn’t understand how you felt. Also not one in the world who wouldn’t buy you a beer. In a heartbeat.”

Rye held his gaze for several beats, then said brusquely, “Take care of yourself.”

Brynn scooted over and got out. Rye shut the car door, tapped the roof twice, and Jake drove away.

The encounter had started and ended with such abruptness, it seemed surreal, but Brynn knew that the parting exchange between the two men had been significant to each of them. Brynn wished she could ask Rye about it, but this wasn’t the time or place.

Police were everywhere.

Fortunately the officers were overwhelmed by the motor and pedestrian traffic and were industriously keeping it under some semblance of control. Trying not to draw attention to themselves, she and Rye joined the taxi line, shuffling forward a few feet at a time.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“You were eager to wash your hands of me.”

“Yeah, well, you’re stuck with me, too.”

“I could still rent a car and drive myself to Knoxville.”

“You could. And watch for Goliad and Timmy to show up in the rearview mirror. Or, because you’d be on the lookout for them, it would probably be a pair of new players. You wouldn’t see them coming before it was too late.”

“The Hunts wouldn’t order my execution, Rye.”

He snickered. “For what’s inside your coat pocket? Get real, Brynn. Young women disappear all the time. You’d be publicly mourned by Lambert, but he would console himself with his influx of cash. Hunt would have his GX-42, and your life would be written off as a small cost of doing business.”

“That’s cynical.”

“That’s life. Bad guys thrive. Good ones die.”

She wondered if he was referring to war buddies. “Who, specifically?”

“Let’s hope not Brady White.”

Heeding Jake’s advice, he wasn’t wearing his jacket, but he patted down one of the pockets and took out his cell phone. He asked Siri for a number and had her call it for him. Brynn listened in.

“Howardville Community Hospital. How may I direct your call?”

“I’m a friend of Brady White’s. I heard he’d taken a downturn. Can you give me an update on his condition, please?”

“I’ll connect you to the OR. You can speak to the charge nurse.”

“He’s in surgery?”

“If…if you’ll hold, sir, I’ll check to see what his status is. Please stay on the line.”

Rye disconnected and said to Brynn, “This morning the lady in the ER wouldn’t tell me anything. This one tried to keep me on the line. Which means they’re tracing the calls.”

“At least we know Brady is still alive.”

“That’s something. That’s huge. But we still have the problem of getting you to Violet.”

“I’m open to ideas.”

“First, we acquire new phones.” With sleight of hand, he silenced the phone he’d just used and dropped it into a nearby trash can. “Sooner or later that number will be attributed to me by the Howardville SO. Which means it will be fed to Wilson and Rawlins, and they’ll share it with the Atlanta PD. If they track it, they’ll be looking for me here, while I’m somewhere else. If I can get this frigging line moving.”

He looked toward the front of it, as though calculating how long it would be until their turn. He was still wearing the ball cap, which kept anyone except Brynn from seeing how his eyes were constantly sweeping the crowded area, looking for a sign that they’d been spotted by someone in uniform.

“What are you thinking of doing?” she asked. “Returning to the hotel?”

He shared his concerns about security cameras getting the license plate number of the Uber car they’d taken from the garage to the hotel. “But I don’t have a choice except to go back. I left my flight bag behind.”

He gauged the length of the line again. “We’re sitting ducks here. What we really need to do is scare up some wheels. We got lucky with Jake, but guardian angels don’t come around that often, and using taxis and hiring cars is risky.

“Do you know anyone who would lend you a car on short notice, late on Thanksgiving night, without asking too many questions? Someone you trust? Fellow doctor? A girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

She shifted her gaze away from him.

“Welllll,” he said. “That was like a puff of cold air on an aching tooth. There’s a man in your life?”

“Past tense.”

She tried to avoid looking at him directly, but he followed the evasive motions of her eyes. “Husband?”

“We weren’t married.”

“But a serious relationship.”

“We lived together for a while.”

“Huh.” His eyes were shadowed by the cap’s bill, but she could sense their intensity on her face. “Your recent kissing ban. Is it because of him?”

With heat behind it, she asked, “If he can help us, does it matter?”

He turned aside and muttered something she thought it was probably just as well she didn’t catch, then came back to her with an indifferent shrug. “When you have a dead stick, you look for somewhere to land, and anyplace will do.”

10:47 p.m.

“So you’re Timmy.”

The former gang member stood accused before a very harsh judge. Richard Hunt looked at him with scorn.

Delores had to agree that Timmy did make for a sorry sight, especially standing beside Goliad, who, as usual, looked handsome and was in total command of himself. Timmy was listing to his left, and his face bore gruesome evidence of the beating he’d received from Rye Mallett.

“This first job was an audition of sorts,” Richard said. “I’m not impressed by your performance so far. People who work for me in this specialized capacity do so under the radar. Stealthily. Do you even know what that word means? It means they don’t commit reckless and stupid acts that bring hillbilly deputies to my home.”

“Yes, sir.”

Goliad stepped forward. “Timmy acted impulsively, sir, but in self-defense.”

Timmy jerked his head around and practically snarled at Goliad, “And you just stood there like a stump and let him have at me!”

“Because I’m too smart to get in the way of a knife,” Goliad returned calmly.

Delores stepped in. “Gentlemen, this finger pointing is getting us nowhere, and it’s taking up precious time that we do not have. The only thing I really want to hear is that you have located Dr. O’Neal.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but no, we haven’t,” Goliad said.

Richard cursed under his breath.

Head down, arms folded, Delores made a circuit of the room, then stopped in front of Timmy. “Will you excuse us, please?”

He cocked his head warily, his ears practically twitching like an animal sensing a predator. “What for?”