Josh tuned him out, and brooded, and tried not to scream at him to shut up.

He had to hang on only long enough to get where he was going. He just needed to get there! Once he saw that everything was all right, he would be all right.

After crossing into eastern Louisiana, he asked to be let out at a wide spot in the road. He’d waited until the truck was out of sight, then walked along the rural highway to a convenience store. He needed a few basic provisions—no more than he could comfortably carry in the backpack—to tide him over until he implemented phase two of his getaway.

He did his shopping hurriedly and carried the items to the counter. Aware of the security cameras, he kept his head down so the bill of his cap would help hide his face.

The cashier gave him a friendly smile. “That everything, hon?”

“Yes, thanks.”

“How about a coffee to go?”

“I’m fine.”

Suddenly his focus was drawn from her blue eyeshadow to the television on the counter behind her. Specifically, to his sister Jordie’s face on the television on the counter.

Jordan Bennett was superimposed across the bottom of the screen with a red tagline: FEARED KIDNAPPED.

Instantly Josh broke a sweat. His knees almost gave way. “Changed my mind,” he said to the clerk and took a lottery ticket from the stack near the register. “Add this to my total.”

He concentrated on keeping his hand from shaking as he used the ballpoint pen with the fuzzy tip to mark his numbers while covertly keeping one eye on the morning news being broadcast from a New Orleans station.

Jordie’s photograph was replaced by video of a crime scene demarcated by yellow tape. The super at the bottom switched to: Live Coverage from Terrebonne Parish. Josh recognized Jordie’s Lexus in the background behind the reporter, who was standing just outside the flimsy barricade.

Another customer entered the store and greeted the cashier with familiarity. Josh kept his head down, meticulously coloring in spaces on the lottery ticket while following the action on the TV screen.

“You hear about this?” the customer asked the cashier. Out of the corner of his eye, Josh saw him gesture toward the television. “Turn it up.”

Josh pretended to be oblivious, but he hinged on every word. Homicide. Apparent abduction. Detectives. The reporter’s inflections underscored descriptive words until it was all Josh could do to keep from screaming.

The reporter wrapped up by saying, “At this point authorities are left with more questions than answers about this brutal murder. However, our news team has learned that there is a person of interest.” A mug shot filled the screen. “Shaw Kinnard accompanied the victim into the bar and left with him. It’s believed he may be responsible not only for the slaying but also for Ms. Bennett’s disappearance. He’s to be considered armed and dangerous. Notify the nearest law enforcement agency if you have any information. A spokesperson from Ms. Bennett’s Extravaganza office has expressed concern—”

The cashier used the remote to lower the volume, even as her customer remarked, “Bet you anything that Billy Panella is behind this. Getting his payback on Josh Bennett.”

The cashier nodded. “If that lady’s found a’tall, it’ll be when somebody fishes her body out of a swamp.”

The man lumbered toward the dairy case, saying as he went, “Meanwhile that brother of hers got off scot-free. If she comes to harm, they ought to put that sumbitch in chains and lock him in a fuckin’ dungeon.”

Josh’s ears began humming noisily. He could barely control his breathing. Jordie had been kidnapped?

“Those the winners?”

Every muscle in his body contracted when he realized the cashier was addressing him. Josh gave her a tight smile as he passed her the lottery ticket. “One can hope.”

She registered his lottery numbers and totaled his purchases. He paid in cash, and it seemed to take her an eternity to sack up his purchases. When she was done, Josh thanked her and headed for the door.

“Have a nice day,” she called to him as he left.

He beat the hell out of there and walked along the shoulder of the highway until he saw a path angling off into the trees. He followed it for at least a hundred yards, and when he reached a clearing, he dropped his sacks, worked off his backpack, and collapsed onto the ropy root system of a gigantic live oak. Whipping off his eyeglasses, he pressed his forehead against his bent knees and breathed in and out through his mouth in heavy gusts.

Words from the newscast jumped out at him like spooks in a haunted house.

…brutal…

…Mickey Bolden, a suspect in numerous unsolved homicides…

…armed and dangerous…

…Ms. Bennett’s brother, Joshua Bennett, was accused of…

…Billy Panella and Joshua Bennett allegedly…

…turned informant for federal prosecutors…

This was terrible news. Terrible!

The buzzsaw in his ears grew louder, accompanied by the fast pulsing of his heart against his eardrums. His nose dripped snot. He was clammy and claustrophobic. He felt lightheaded and sick to his stomach. The skin across his back drew up into the familiar, tight, unforgiving ache.

Jordie kidnapped? That couldn’t be right. It just couldn’t. The TV people had got it wrong. He wouldn’t believe it until he heard it from Jordie herself.

Frantically he unzipped his backpack and withdrew the cell phone he’d taken from one of his guards within the first week of his confinement. For weeks after, he’d overheard the marshal bitching to his cohorts about losing it. Josh had replaced its SIM card with a new and untraceable one that he’d sneaked into the safe house in the lining of his duffel bag.

Once he found the phone, he couldn’t immediately lay his hands on the battery that went with it. Growing increasingly desperate, he dumped the contents of the backpack onto the ground, then rifled through the clothing and various items, scattering them like a cyclone until he found the phone’s battery. With clumsy fingers, gasping for breath, and blinking sweat out of his eyes, he managed to insert it and, as soon as he had a signal, began punching in Jordie’s cell number.

But then his mind screamed, Are you crazy?

He stopped his frenzied motions and took a moment to think.

Whether or not Jordie was dead by now, she wouldn’t be answering her phone.

But someone else might. Her kidnapper, maybe. Possibly the police. Whoever answered would want to know who was calling her. What would he say? “This is her brother. The one who double-crossed both the ruthless Billy Panella and the federal government? The one who became a fugitive last Tuesday. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

Thinking more rationally now, he leaned back against the stout tree trunk, closed his eyes, and forced himself to take deep, even breaths. Several minutes passed. His pores stopped leaking sweat. His heart rate slowed. His nose stopped dripping and his nausea subsided.

He got a grip.

He opened his eyes, found his eyeglasses amid the strewn articles on the ground, and put them on. As though they were fitted with magic lenses, he began to view the situation from a whole new prospective—that of Billy Panella.

Because, even while working hand in glove with the man and hating him to his very marrow, he’d also come to admire the power Panella wielded. No one’s knees shook when the name Josh Bennett was mentioned, but so much as breathe Billy Panella and grown men were said to wet their pants. Josh envied that quality.