Rye’s heart bumped. He looked at Rawlins. Was the deputy baiting him? He turned to Wilson.

“Brady’s doing good,” he said. “Stable condition.”

Rye turned back to Rawlins. “You asshole! You told me he died during surgery.”

“I told you he arrested. They worked on him, got him back. You hung up on me before I finished.”

Rye’s ears were ringing. “But he’s okay?”

“What part don’t you understand?” Rawlins said.

“Look, you son of a bitch, I’ve been dying a little myself over thinking that Brady was dead.”

“Well, he’s not.” Rawlins made an impatient motion. “Go on with your story.”

“Haven’t you heard enough?”

“What about Wes O’Neal?”

Rye sighed. “We got to his house while you were still there. He loaned us his car.” He paused, looked between them, and then admitted to switching out the license plates. “That’s hardly worse than a parking violation. Don’t go after him. He’s trying to make a go of it.” Again, he split an anxious look between them. “Can we roll now?”

“You’ve told us everything?”

“Yes, dammit.”

Everything except that he and Brynn had made love.

Made love?

He would review the terminology later, and in private. Right now, he had to impress upon them the potential danger she was in. “Y’all don’t like me. I get it. I royally fucked up your Thanksgiving.

“But Brynn is a dedicated doctor who’s been giving it her all, putting her reputation on the line, putting up with me, trying to save the life of a kid with blood cancer. Now if that sounds like criminal activity to you, God help you. But it sure as hell doesn’t sound like it to me.”

“According to you, Hunt’s getting the drug.”

“Right now.”

“So, that’s what they were after. Everybody will be happy. What do you think is going to happen to Dr. O’Neal? She’ll be disappointed, maybe, but why do you think she’s unsafe?”

“Because she tried to keep Hunt from getting it. He and the missus aren’t going to take that betrayal lying down. Plus, they can’t afford for anybody to find out about this. Any of it. Goliad is faithful to a fault. He’ll do whatever they tell him, including making sure that nobody lives to tell of it.”

Wilson looked skeptical. “I can’t see them actually ordering a person’s murder.”

“Bet you’ll change your mind if Brynn and Lambert turn up dead.”

Wilson said nothing to that.

“Even if that isn’t the plan,” Rye continued, “there’s Timmy, and Timmy is frigging psychotic. He may do something without being told to. For the hell of it. There’s something off about him, but I can’t nail it.”

“He’s a street kid with an attitude,” Rawlins said, “but, so far, all we’ve got on him is his fight with you. And honestly, if you’d hit me in the face with a fire extinguisher, and I’d had a knife…”

“Okay, Rawlins, point made, but—” Rye gnawed his lower lip. “That first night, in your office, I asked you why I would want to beat up Brady after he’d talked me down through the fog. Remember? You had no answer to that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. So here’s a question that I don’t have an answer for. If Timmy was up there to guarantee that Brynn returned with the drug that I was flying in, why in hell did he use that laser on me and risk a crash? What was his motivation?”

“Doesn’t need motivation,” Rawlins said. “He’s psycho. You said so yourself.”

“I guess.” Rye put his back to the door and began rubbing his wrists together, chafing against the unbreakable flex-cuffs. “But then today, when I offered to fly them back to Atlanta, shave off hours to get the drug to Hunt in time, Timmy didn’t jump on the idea. He’s scared of flying. That was real, but it’s like he didn’t…”

He stopped, squeezed his eyes shut, and concentrated. “Like he didn’t care whether we got it back in time or not.” Suddenly he had it. “He wanted to crash me. Destroy the plane, destroy the drug. Right?” When neither said anything, he repeated it. “Right?”

“Why would he want to destroy it?”

“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” By now, he was in a desperate struggle to get out of the flex-cuffs. “Get these goddamn things off me. I’m going up there.”

“I told you, we can’t go barging back in there without—”

“Fine. You stay. I’m going.”

Hands still bound, he groped for the door latch and lifted it. The door swung open. He tumbled out backward and landed hard on the pavement.

Chapter 37

5:33 p.m.

Goliad pointed Brynn toward an upholstered bench against the wall outside the sitting room from which she’d been expelled. “Why don’t you sit there while we wait?”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Sit down. Please.”

She sat.

Timmy took up a slouched position against the opposite wall. He produced a knife from wherever it had been secreted, exposed the blade, and began nonchalantly flipping it into the air, letting it turn end on end several times before catching it by the hilt.

Brynn tried to ignore him, but his pastime was unnerving.

Goliad must’ve thought so, too. He said, “Cut it out.”

Timmy stopped and pushed away from the wall. “I’m hungry. Is that old lady who works in the kitchen still here?”

“She was given the rest of the day off.”

Timmy made a face. “Well, I’m gonna scrounge.”

“Not now. They may need us.”

“I’m hungry, man. I’ve been to Tennessee and back.”

Goliad considered it, then said, “Don’t be long.”

Timmy ambled off in the direction of the kitchen.

Through the wall behind her, Brynn could hear muffled conversation in the sitting room but couldn’t understand what was being said.

“Is that drug going to cure him?”

Goliad’s question surprised her. Up till now, he hadn’t expressed any interest in the outcome of all this.

“The prospect is very good,” she replied. “No one will know for certain how effective it is until it’s tried.”

Goliad nodded thoughtfully. “The little girl, is she going to suffer? At the end, I mean.”

“Not if I can help it. But there’s nothing I can do about her family’s suffering.”

He stared at Brynn, then glanced toward the kitchen. “I’m going to check on him. Don’t go anywhere. I don’t want to have to hurt you.”

He left. Brynn checked the time. Only a few minutes had elapsed since she’d been banished from the sitting room, but it seemed much longer than the hands on her watch indicated. She wondered how far along Nate was in the process.

Had the syringe of GX-42 already been injected into the IV solution?

5:34 p.m.

When Goliad entered the commercial-size kitchen, Timmy was sitting on the countertop, bumping his heels against the cabinet door below, eating a banana. Goliad motioned him down. “Back to work.”

Timmy hopped off the counter and did a hook shot with the banana peel into the sink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You hang around ’cause you want to fuck her, don’t you?”

Goliad, who had already turned away, came back around. “What?”

“The boss lady.” Timmy made an obscene gesture with his tongue.

Goliad’s swollen face turned dark with anger.

Timmy chuckled and tapped the corner of his eye. “I see these things. I know.”

“You don’t know anything.” Goliad turned again to leave.

“There you’re wrong. I know you’re never going to get in Delores’s panties. And I also know where a kidney is. Right about here.”

He jabbed a stiletto into the right side of Goliad’s back all the way to the hilt. Goliad arched up and back. He staggered as he turned to face Timmy, who bugged out his eyes and whispered, “Boo!”

Goliad dropped to his knees in front of him, then fell facedown onto the polished tile floor. Timmy said, “Adios, amigo.”

Bending over Goliad, Timmy placed a hand in each of his armpits and dragged him across the floor, grunting. “Like a sack of cement.”

The walk-in pantry was enormous by most standards, but it barely accommodated Goliad’s large form. In order to get out after pulling Goliad in, Timmy had to carefully step around him.

He left his knife sticking up out of Goliad’s back. It was acting as a plug. He didn’t want to have to mop up a gulf of blood when he came back later to dispose of the body.

5:35 p.m.

Nate gaped at Delores. “What do you mean, you want to do it?”

“Exactly what I said. I want to inject the drug into the IV bag.”

Richard said. “Brilliant, darling. I love that idea.”

She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips. “We’ve come all this way together. I want to take an active part.”

“As you should. Nate?”

“I don’t think it’s a brilliant idea at all.”

“What matters is that Richard and I do.” Not even deigning to look at Nate, she stroked her husband’s cheek.

Nate sputtered, “But you’re not medically qualified.”

“It’s not brain surgery. How hard can it be?”

“It’s not hard, but you don’t know how.”

Delores turned to him. “Do you?” she challenged. “Don’t you have nurses to take care of the menial tasks while you’re busy being stupendous you?”

“I—”