Timmy leaned back so Rye could reach the door, but he kept the knife unsheathed, tapping the flat of the blade against his thigh. After making sure the door was secure, Rye strapped himself in.

Timmy said, “Don’t try anything tricky.”

“Or what? You’ll knife me? Killing the pilot wouldn’t be a very smart move, would it?”

“No, which is why I would knife your girlfriend instead. Not kill her. Just make her bleed a lot.”

Rye didn’t respond to that. But as the plane lifted off the runway, he said, “Oh, hell.”

Timmy looked at him with alarm. “What?”

“I forgot to take my meds.”

4:04 p.m.

As Rye had predicted, he had to dodge several storm cells, which had added time to their flight. Their descent had been bumpy, but he executed a smooth landing and was now taxiing toward the far end of the runway, where, through the window of the plane, Brynn could see a vehicle waiting. It looked like something used by the Secret Service.

Nate lamented the sad state of his designer suit, which was only semi-dry after having been rained on. “I hate to arrive in this soggy condition.”

Brynn couldn’t stomach Nate’s vanity in light of her defeat, which was a solid and unrelenting pressure against her heart. Throughout the entire ordeal, she had clung to the premise that until the drug was coursing through Richard Hunt’s bloodstream, there was still a chance for Violet to get it. Her optimism now seemed incredibly na?ve. How could she possibly have succeeded against such a juggernaut?

Even worse than being vanquished was knowing that Violet felt abandoned by her.

When they reached the end of the runway, Rye turned the plane around, so that the right side, on which they would deplane, was facing the long, black SUV. Goliad was standing beside it. As soon as Rye killed the engine and the propeller began to wind down, Goliad approached the plane. He opened the doors to the passenger cabin from the outside, looked in, and motioned Nate out. He alighted with a bounce in his step.

Brynn ignored the hand Goliad extended to assist her down, and climbed out on her own. Timmy walked down the wing from the copilot’s seat.

Rye came last. When he reached the ground, he squared off with Goliad.

After assessing the damage he’d done to Goliad’s face early that morning, he said, “I hope that hurts as bad as it looks.”

Goliad withstood Rye’s goading with characteristic stoicism. “I would enjoy repaying you, but Senator and Mrs. Hunt are waiting.”

“Then let’s get going.” Rye took only one step toward the SUV before Goliad flattened his hand firmly against his chest. “You’re not coming.”

Brynn’s pulse spiked. She looked at Rye with alarm and could tell that he didn’t like that arrangement any more than she did. “Lambert said the Hunts were looking forward to meeting me.”

“Lambert was wrong.”

“I beg your pardon,” Nate said. “Delores told me herself—”

One baleful look from Goliad shut him up. Going back to Rye, Goliad said, “This runway is private property. The Hunts reported your landing to the sheriff’s department, who reported it to the local FAA office. Turns out, the agency is already familiar with you. You’re meeting with an investigator tomorrow about that crash up in Howardville. Add this trespassing matter, and you have a lot to answer for. Starting now.”

He tipped his head. They all looked in that direction. A police car was speeding up the intersecting road toward them, lights flashing.

Rye whipped off his sunglasses and took a step toward Goliad. “You gotta be kidding.”

“Kidding? No. The FAA didn’t think it was funny, either. You can’t charm, trick, or talk your way out of this one, Mallett. You’re over.”

The squad car, with the sheriff’s department seal on the side, came to a halt beside the SUV. Two uniformed deputies got out. As they approached the group, one said, “Rye Mallett?”

“Me.”

“We’ve been looking for you since last night. Had people chasing all over the city, running down cell phones in trash cans and such. And here you are, landed in our backyard.”

The second deputy said. “More accurately, the senator’s backyard. He’s filed a formal complaint of trespassing.”

“And I filed a flight plan,” Rye fired back.

“We know. We called the flight service ourselves soon as we saw you touch down. The guy you talked to remembers you bragging about the red carpet treatment you’d get upon arrival.”

“My point exactly. The Hunts knew I was coming.”

“But without invitation,” the deputy said. “They’ve got their own jet and two pilots on staff.” He gave Rye a scornful once-over. “Why would they resort to using your services?”

“This is absurd!” Brynn exclaimed. She spun around to Nate. “You know this is a farce. You made the arrangements. Do something, say something.”

His eyes were cool, calculating. “At your urging, I agreed to fly with him, Brynn. But I don’t know anything about aviation rules and regulations. If he’s in violation of them, that’s hardly my fault.”

She stared at him, aghast. “In good conscience, you can’t let his happen, Nate.”

But apparently he could. Goliad motioned him toward the SUV. “The Hunts are waiting for you, Dr. Lambert.” Without an instant of hesitation, Nate strutted to the vehicle and climbed up into it.

Goliad took Brynn’s elbow. She jerked it free. “I’m not going.”

“The Hunts requested to see you,” Goliad said. “Specifically.”

“I don’t give a damn what the Hunts requested. Specifically. I’m not leaving until this matter is settled. Rye flew to this airstrip with the Hunts’ full knowledge, permission, and gratitude.”

The two deputies looked at each other, then came back to her. One said, “That’s not what we were told, miss.”

“Then they lied. Mr. Mallett didn’t do anything wrong.”

Goliad moved closer to her. “Maybe your father would vouch for him.”

The veiled threat, softly spoken, hit Brynn like a freight train. Her lips parted, but only a thread of breath escaped. No words.

Goliad added, “A deputy could be dispatched to pick him up. His parole officer would be notified, of course.” Through the slits of his swollen lids, his eyes were implacable.

She looked at Rye and made a gesture of helplessness.

“It’s okay. Go. I can take care of this.”

“But—”

“Don’t stick your neck out for me. I’ll be gone tomorrow anyway, remember?” To punctuate that, he put his sunglasses back on, blocking her from seeing into his eyes. Despite his softly spoken words as he buckled her seat belt, this was another shutdown, another goodbye.

Goliad took her arm again, and this time she didn’t have it within herself to resist. She got into the SUV. As Timmy scooted in beside her in the back seat, he said, “Ohhh. You gonna miss him?” He made smooching noises close to her ear.

She ignored his mockery. To respond, even with as little as a dirty look, would require energy she no longer had. Her fighting spirit had been drained dry.

4:17 p.m.

Rye would have fought tooth and nail to keep Brynn out of that SUV, if not for Goliad’s threat regarding Wes. Whether Brynn admitted it or not, she loved the scoundrel. She had looked stricken at the thought of him and his parole being placed in jeopardy.

Rye knew if he acted unmoved and detached, she would believe it. He could tell by her hurt expression that he’d been convincing. He would apologize later. First he had to get through to these deputies that he’d been set up and that Brynn’s situation was precarious.

As the SUV pulled away, he turned to them. “Have you talked to a Deputy Wilson or Rawlins? From Howardville? They’re up to speed on what’s really happening here. Dr. O’Neal may be in danger.”

“In danger from you. We know. That’s why the Howardville SO put out a BOLO on you two last night after you abducted her from a garage.”

“Abducted? No. Listen. A lot has happened since then. Brynn’s life was threatened today. That little guy, looks like a fox? He’s been holding her at knifepoint all afternoon. Lambert is in just as much danger, only he can’t see past his own ego. No love lost between him and me, but I’m afraid for him, too. I just didn’t let on now because—”

He broke off, realizing that, for all the reaction he was getting from them, he had just as well have been speaking a lost language. Neither appeared alarmed by what he was telling them. Neither had even blinked. That’s when it hit him: They were on Hunt’s under-the-table payroll.

If he implicated the senator in any wrongdoing, he would be taken straight to lockup. He would be denied even his one phone call. The lock on his cell would corrode before he was released. That’s why Goliad had said You’re over with such succinct confidence.

Rye scanned the horizon. No cavalry was coming over the hill. The pine tree–lined road intersecting the runway was empty. He was on his own.

One of the deputies went through the motions of being an honest cop and consulted his notes. “You’re not the registered owner of this plane, Mr. Mallett.”

“A buddy loaned it to me.”