“Did he? Because we called the owner. Jake Morton? He said, yeah, he let you charter it, but with reservations. Didn’t know much about you.”

“I told him not to…” Rye stopped himself.

“What?” The deputy moved in closer. “Told him not to what?”

Rye said nothing else. Jake hadn’t trusted these guys, either. He’d only done what Rye had advised, but that advice might very well hang him now.

“Did Mr. Morton know you planned to fly his plane, unauthorized, to a private landing strip belonging to a U.S. senator?”

“No. It was a rushed, last-minute change of plan. But it wasn’t ‘unauthorized.’ I believe the arrangements were made through Mrs. Hunt. Maybe she forgot to inform the senator.”

“Close as they are, I doubt that,” one of the deputies said. “Besides, it’s not like Mrs. Hunt to forget anything, much less something that threatens their personal security.”

Rye didn’t comment, afraid that whatever he said from this point would soon reach the ears of the Hunts, placing Brynn in even greater peril.

One of the deputies asked him if he was armed.

“No.”

“A Glock is registered to you. And you have a CHL.”

“Y’all have gathered all this intel on me in only a couple of hours? You’ve sure been industrious.”

“We feared for the senator’s safety.”

“You think I look scary? What about the two guys in the black suits?”

“The little guy is new, but we’re well acquainted with Goliad.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“Nice guy. Solid.”

“Hmm.” Solid as the kickbacks he doled out.

He was patted down despite his denial of being armed. One of the deputies said, “We’ll continue this conversation at the department annex.”

“I promised to return Jake’s plane tonight.”

“Sorry, that’s a promise you’ll have to break.”

“From here, the flight to the FBO where he hangars it will only take about twenty minutes. You can pick me up there.”

One snuffled a laugh. “We let you get back in that cockpit, what’s to keep you from taking off for Timbuktu?”

“Fuel capacity.”

The quip didn’t go over well. One of the deputies unsnapped his holster and curved his hand around the grip of his pistol. “Are you going to give us a hassle, Mr. Mallett?”

He raised his hands. “No hassle, but how about this? One of you flies over there with me.”

“And become your hostage?” Both scoffed. “I don’t think so.”

“No. Swear to God—”

“Hands behind your back.”

“Seriously? You’re really arresting me?”

One pulled out flex-cuffs. “You have the right—”

“Don’t do this. Please. I’ve got to be in Howardville tomorrow morning at nine sharp. I can’t miss that meeting, or I could lose my pilot’s license.”

“You should have thought of—”

“Wait a goddamn minute!” Rye shouted when one secured both his wrists behind his back. “I can’t leave my buddy’s plane unsecured.”

They ignored all his protests and finished reading him his rights as he was roughly escorted to their car and pushed into the back seat. “You’re making a terrible mistake.” The car door was slammed in his face.

They drove away from the landing strip. When they rounded the same bend in the road that Goliad’s SUV had taken a few minutes earlier, Rye got his first look at the Hunts’ mansion.

Sitting atop a hill, it looked as impregnable as a castle. The dense cloud cover had created a premature dusk, which had activated the strategically placed landscape lighting around the house, bathing it in an incandescent glow.

Freaking Camelot, Rye thought. Complete with treachery within.

Brynn was up there. Inside. Doing what? Making her profound apology to the Hunts for her subterfuge? No. No way. Not Brynn. She wouldn’t grovel, but she would honor her professional oath and assist Lambert if he asked her to. She had told Rye she wouldn’t let the precious, single dose of GX-42 go to waste, even if Violet wasn’t the one to benefit from it.

But what really concerned Rye was what would happen to Brynn afterward. He had warned both her and Lambert that once the drug was inside Richard Hunt’s system, he would be more determined than ever to safeguard the secret of his illness and how he’d schemed to get the drug. The only way to guarantee that the secret would never get out would be to permanently silence anyone who was privy to it.

Rye’s blood ran cold. He had to get to Brynn.

Once again, he tried appealing to the deputies. “Listen, guys, there’s a whole lot more at stake here than you realize. Lives are on the line. Dr. O’Neal and Nate Lambert are—”

He was cut off and hurled against the far door when the deputy who was driving gave the steering wheel a sharp turn to the right in order to avoid a head-on collision with a vehicle in the opposing lane that crossed the center stripe.

The deputy overcorrected to keep from plowing into the ditch, but managed to straighten out as he stood on the brakes. The squad car went into a rubber-burning, fishtailing skid before coming to a jarring stop on the narrow shoulder.

The other vehicle backed up and came alongside the squad car. The darkly tinted driver’s window came down. Rawlins’s bellicose face appeared in the opening.

Chapter 36

4:51 p.m.

Goliad ushered Nate and Brynn into the mansion through the front door. Timmy came in behind them.

“I know the way.” Nate struck off in an impatient and self-important stride toward the sitting room in the master suite.

With no enthusiasm whatsoever, Brynn followed.

She had been here twice before, the first being when Nate and she had explained to the couple the application process for compassionate use of an experimental drug, and then again when Nate had laid out his plan to bootleg a single dose.

“For a price,” Brynn remembered him saying. At the time, she had thought only in monetary terms. Now, she was thinking of the real price: Violet’s life.

She entered the sitting room through a set of double doors. Tall, handsome, and imposing, Richard Hunt stood in the center of the room beneath a chandelier, waiting for Nate and her to approach him.

The senator shook hands with Nate and told him he was glad to see him. “Likewise,” Nate gushed. “It’s been a day, to say the least.”

The senator’s American-eagle gaze moved to Brynn. He took in her dishevelment with obvious disdain. “Dr. O’Neal.”

With an equal shortage of warmth, she said, “Senator.”

Standing beside her husband, Delores looked as radiant as a blushing bride. Her cashmere sweater and wool slacks were the color of cream and so well tailored, they looked as though they had been poured over her shapely figure. Her blond mane was shiny, her makeup impeccably applied, jewelry expensive but understated.

The frostiness in her gaze belied her smile. “Dr. O’Neal. I understand that you journeyed all the way to Tennessee today to see Violet.”

“Yes.”

“Such an adorable and precocious little girl. Was she enjoying the special day the senator and I arranged for her?”

The woman’s saccharine tone made Brynn want to grind her teeth. “I don’t know.” She looked at Timmy where he stood sentinel with Goliad in front of the double doors, now closed. “I was waylaid before I could see her.”

“What a pity. A wasted trip, then.”

Delores executed a graceful turn to welcome Nate with a quick hug and air kisses on both cheeks. Then she reached for her husband’s hand and clasped it between hers. “Finally. Let’s do this, for godsake.”

An IV pole had been positioned at the side of an oversize easy chair. Aimed toward it was a video camera already mounted on a tripod. Ancillary lights had been placed around the room, but, after looking through the camera, Nate decided he liked the warmer, cozier, non-clinical nuance created by lamplight alone. He dimmed the chandelier.

The camera set-up belonged to the Hunts, but Nate was both star and director of the video that would document what he referred to as “this monumental moment in medical history.”

Brynn was happy to be excluded. Even if he had invited her to share his limelight or to comment on camera, she would have declined.

The entire scene disgusted her. She felt like a stage prop in a surreal play, and wouldn’t have believed it was actually happening if she couldn’t feel Goliad’s unwavering dark stare on her. It was as though he’d been commissioned to see to it that she didn’t try to abort the infusion. If she made an attempt, he would stop her.

Days in advance, Nate had brought in all the apparatus he would need. A portable table had been set up for his use. He draped it and the senator’s chair with sterile sheets. He pulled on a pair of latex gloves, snapping them against his wrists. He inserted the IV shunt into the vein in the bend of the senator’s elbow.

Delores laughed and said, “We have everything except the drug. Who has it?”

Timmy sauntered forward and took it from his inside pocket.

Upon seeing the small familiar bundle, Brynn’s heart clenched.