“Then how did Panella hear about it?”

“I asked Mickey that. He claimed not to know, and maybe he didn’t. I’m guessing that Panella has moles in law enforcement. He had to have had help getting away. Fake IDs. Private aircraft. He could spread around a lot of graft with thirty mil.”

“You said he didn’t have it.”

“Not the jackpot, but he would have kept a million or two handy to cover expenses.”

“Like your retainer.”

“Yeah, like that. Two hundred grand, minimum.” He placed his hands over his knees and bent at the waist to bring them to eye level. “But you don’t have to worry about me icing you if you’ll tell me where your brother is.”

“We’re back to that?”

“Where is he, Jordie?”

“How much clearer can I make it? I. Don’t. Know.”

“Do yourself a favor. Don’t hold out on me.”

“I’m not.”

“Four days and Josh hasn’t made contact with you in some way, shape, or form?”

“No.”

“Message in a bottle, smoke signal, disappearing ink?”

She didn’t honor that with a response.

Moving in closer, he whispered, “Why were you in that bar?”

Her heart lurched. He hadn’t let go of that, damn him. Not trusting herself to speak calmly, she didn’t say anything.

He flashed a wicked grin. “You went there expecting to find Josh, didn’t you?”

She turned her head aside. He followed with his, and when she turned away again, he trapped her face between his hands. “Did Mickey and I spoil a touching family reunion?”

She closed her eyes so she couldn’t see the ruthless determination in his. Also to prevent him from reading any giveaways in hers.

“Where is your brother, Jordie?”

She rolled her lips inward, refusing to answer.

“Be smart and tell me. Panella will pay me to kill you. Josh will pay me not to.”

“You’ll kill me regardless.”

“I won’t. Cross my heart.”

His mocking tone angered her. She gripped his wrists, digging her nails into the skin on the undersides.

“Stop that! I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I want to hurt you.”

“It hurts like hell.”

“Then let me go!”

“I will as soon as you tell me where to find your brother.”

“I can’t,” she said, straining the words through clenched teeth. “I don’t know.”

“Last chance. I won’t ask again. Tell me, or you leave me no choice but to follow through with Panella. ’Cause I put a lot of time and effort into getting this job. It’s boosted me to the top of the pay grade. No way in hell am I walking away empty-handed.”

She opened her eyes to gauge his resolve, and what she saw chilled her. She figured she had just as well call his bluff. “Then I guess you’ll just have to kill me.”

They stared into each other’s eyes—each as unyielding as the other—until the cell phone inside his shirt pocket rang.

Chapter 12

Joe entered his house through the kitchen door, slid the folder he’d brought from the office onto the table, then tiredly removed his wrinkled jacket and hung it on the designated hook adjacent to the door. He placed his shoulder holster on top of the hutch out of the kids’ reach.

“Anybody home?” He opened the fridge and decided on orange juice.

Marsha caught him drinking straight from the carton. “The kids know better than to do that.”

“They know better than to get caught.” He drained the carton and set it on the counter beside a large pumpkin. “What’s that?”

“It’s called a pumpkin.”

Joe shot her a look.

“For the carnival. I have to draw a face on it.” She held up the black marker she’d brought with her into the kitchen.

“Where are the kids?”

“Upstairs. Molly is in the tub. Henry is dressed and ready. He’s in his room playing a video game.”

“They okay?”

“They had a knock-down, drag-out this morning over whose turn it was to empty the dishwasher.”

“Who won?”

“I did.”

Joe smiled as he pulled a chair from beneath the dining table and dropped into it. “How was Top Gun?”

“Goose dies every time.”

“The wine?”

“Maybe I should have splurged on an eight-dollar bottle.”

“Anything’s drinkable with popcorn.”

“I skipped the double butter. I’m getting fat.”

He reached for her and pulled her onto his lap. Running his hand over her hip, he said, “Your curves are womanly.”

“Even my mom jeans are getting tight.”

“I love ’em tight. Let’s have sex.”

“The kids could walk in on us, and I have to draw that pumpkin face.”

“It’ll take sixty seconds.”

“The pumpkin or the sex?”

He laughed. “Tired as I am, I may need more than sixty seconds.”

Kidding aside, she touched his face with concern. “You look exhausted. What’s going on?”

“Josh Bennett got tired of the taxpayers’ hospitality and pulled a disappearing act.” Taking advantage of her speechlessness, he said, “Don’t announce that over the speakers at the carnival. We haven’t gone public with it yet. I was hoping to catch him before we had to.”

“How in the world did he get away?”

“He didn’t come down for breakfast. Marshals went to check. Room was empty, bed still made.”

“I thought he had one of those ankle monitors.”

“Clever little shit got it off. They found it in the bathroom. That was Tuesday. Then last night…” He filled her in on everything that had occurred since Hick’s initial call.

“He and I agreed to take a short break, then we’ve got to jump back in. Now that Josh Bennett’s sister is missing, and the whole mess resurrected, I may have to change my mind about announcing his escape. In any case, I won’t be going to the carnival. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She stroked his head. She knew better than anyone how badly the Billy Panella case had eaten at him.

Over a three-year period, Panella had craftily enticed the clients of his investment firm to put their money into phony stocks, municipal bonds, pharmaceuticals to cure cancer, energy exploration that was ecofriendly, resorts and exclusive retirement communities, even shrimp and catfish farms—none of which existed.

With Josh Bennett’s wizardry with numbers and money-juggling skills, Panella had committed fraud to the tune of thirty million dollars and change. He had made everything work for a while, paying occasional dividends with the promise of big payoffs to come.

They never did. Dividends got smaller, while growing larger were the number of client complaints filed with the FTC, SEC, et cetera, until a fat file landed in Joe’s division and he initiated a full-fledged but covert investigation of the Panella Investments Group.

After months of study, he and Hick determined that Josh Bennett was the weak link in the partnership. They approached him, told him that his and Panella’s scam was screwed, and offered to reduce the charges he faced in exchange for evidence and testimony against Panella.