A waterfall of rainwater flowed from the brim of the trooper’s hat as he dipped his head and peered in at them. “Agent Wiley?”

“I’m Wiley. This is Agent Hickam.”

The trooper acknowledged them in turn and introduced himself. “The building’s about half a mile up the road, which has turned to mush in this rain.”

“Is this the only road in and out?”

“Yes, sir. Dead-ends at the building, which backs up to wetlands.”

“We don’t know if he has a vehicle, but we have to assume so. If he somehow eludes us—”

“He’ll have to get past all of us here, and that ain’t gonna happen.”

Joe liked the trooper’s confidence. “We don’t know what kind of arsenal he has, so be careful.”

“Y’all, too.”

The trooper backed away and signaled the driver of the unit parked sideways to pull forward. Once they were past the roadblock, Hick followed the trooper’s flashlight as he motioned him into a left turn.

The road was mush. They slip-slid for the approximate half mile until they came to a ditch on the verge of overflowing. Beyond it loomed a structure described to Joe by Morrow as a cross between a barn and a garage on steroids.

Parked in front of it were numerous squad cars, several official SUVs, and two ambulances. Law enforcement personnel were outfitted in rain gear, making it difficult to differentiate the various departments represented unless their backs were to Joe and he could read the reflective letters on their slickers. Most reassuring to him was that there were plenty of them, signifying a lot of firepower.

As Hick carefully steered their car across the road spanning the swollen ditch, one of the officers separated himself from the rest and came slogging toward them. It was Morrow. Beneath the brim of his hat, his face was set with tension.

Joe motioned for him to join them inside the car. He opened the backseat door and got in, mumbling an apology for slinging rainwater. Joe asked him if there had been any change since they’d last talked.

“Nothing.”

“So you don’t know for sure that she’s still alive.”

“She was when I got here. Last thing Kinnard said was that he would surrender to you and you only. Since he laid down that condition, there’s been nothing from him but silence, and I’ve tried several times to engage him. Her, too. Not a peep. But if he’s killed her, he didn’t use a gun. No shots have been fired.”

“She didn’t tell you why an ambulance was needed?”

“No. I asked several times which of them was hurt. Got no answer. I guess the son of a bitch meant it when he said he wouldn’t talk to anybody except you.”

Joe considered the hulking building and dragged his hand down his face. “Okay. Showtime. Pass me that slicker, please.”

Morrow took it from the backseat and handed it up to him.

“If you think I’m letting you go in there by yourself, think again,” Hick said.

“That’s what the man wants.”

“Screw what he wants. You investigate stock fraud and other scams. This is a job for the cowboys.”

“Which he swore to shoot one by one if they stormed the place,” Morrow said.

“Till they kill him,” Hick argued.

“Or he kills her.”

Joe’s words fell like bricks and crushed Hick’s argument. He said shit under his breath and turned to address Morrow. “You’re sure there’s no other way in or out?”

“Not unless there’s a tunnel underneath, and, you know, dig a hole in Louisiana, it fills up with water, so I don’t think a tunnel is likely. Risk is too high to try going in through the roof in this weather. No other doors, and I’ve had men examining the exterior walls plank by plank looking for a concealed one. None of the lumber is rotten enough for us to bust through without giving him plenty of advance warning.”

The deputy hitched his chin toward the front of the building. “That door is the only access. It’s stood ajar like that since I backed out of it. I thought he might poke his head around, take a look-see. But if he’s come near that opening, we missed it. No motion inside at all.”

Hick exhaled in frustration and looked at Joe. Joe gave him a vapid smile. “I’m wearing a vest.”

“He’s a head-shot guy.”

Neither of the other two said anything to contradict or qualify that, and Joe sort of wished that one of them had. “Well, we gotta get her out of there.” Without further ado, he checked his pistol, tucked it into the holster at the small of his back, then pulled on his slicker.

Once he and Hick had protected themselves as well as they could from the downpour, the three got out and approached the building, using the parked vehicles as cover. Morrow’s squad car being the closest to the door, they crouched behind it.

Hick chambered a bullet in his pistol. “Just so you know. He kills you, I’m sending him to hell.”

In all seriousness, Joe said, “I would appreciate that. Thanks.”

“Then I’m making a move on Marsha.”

Joe looked at him with disdain. “That certainly gives me the will to live.”

“But your crap wardrobe goes straight to Goodwill.”

Morrow had retrieved a bullhorn from his car. He duckwalked over to where they were hunkered and passed it to Joe. “Press that button and talk into it.”

Joe took the bullhorn from the deputy and looked at Hick. “You have a patron saint you pray to on a regular basis?”

“Several.”

“Now would be a good time.”

“Plus, my aunt on my mama’s side dabbles in voodoo.”

Grimly Joe said, “Even better.”

Shaw had been aware of the assemblage beyond the door, but neither he nor Jordie had remarked on the arrivals of other vehicles, the new sets of voices, the lights periodically slicing across the entrance and penetrating the holes and cracks in the walls.

He’d heard the men scuttling along the exterior, looking for a way in, or a possible escape route for him. They were wasting their time. There wasn’t one.

It was coming up on two hours since the deputy had arrived, and time had become an important factor. Shaw was fully aware that his body was being poisoned by bacteria. Several times Jordie had pleaded with him not to wait for the FBI agent to arrive, but rather to surrender himself to the officers already there, to let paramedics take emergency measures before transporting him to the nearest hospital.

It had been a tempting proposition, but he remained undeterred. “We wait on your fed.”

Having grown increasingly lightheaded, he’d been lying down for the past twenty minutes. Jordie sat beside him, her knees raised, her forehead resting on them in a posture of despair.

He thought back to how she’d looked in that seedy bar. A knockout. Upon getting his first up-close look at her, his center had tightened and warmed with awareness and want, and he’d thought, Damn.

Of course the male animal in him had immediately zeroed in on seeing her naked.

But his more objective professional side had also kicked in and registered the details of his target: the casual but smart outfit, the pale manicured fingernails, the dark and satiny hair left to do its own thing, plush lips brightened only with a transparent sheen. All of which had told him that she was well maintained but unembellished. Classy without fuss or muss.