“I admit I hadn’t decided whether to tell you at all. Josh was having a paranoid episode. I was tempted to keep that line of communication with him open.”

“Is he suicidal?” Hickam asked.

“Even in the throes of a panic attack he’s never threatened to take his own life, and he didn’t today. But I believe he’s on the brink of a complete breakdown. I thought that if I kept the phone, maybe I could eventually talk him down, persuade him to surrender. But in light of what that young lady told Shaw…”

At the slip of his name, she automatically looked in his direction. Since entering the suite, he hadn’t uttered a word. No questions for her. No comments on anything she’d said. He had remained perfectly still in his chair, silent and listening, riveted on her, as watchful as a hawk.

Her involuntary glance at him now produced a purl of awareness, low and deep and sexual. It made her furious that he still had the power to evoke a reaction like that. It made her angry at herself for being susceptible.

Going back to the others, she said, “In view of what the girl said about the killer’s voice, Josh’s hysteria is justified.” She paused, then added, “Of course we could all be mistaken.”

Dangerous place, denial.

As though Shaw had spoken the words again, she looked across at him. He hadn’t moved. His predatory gaze was still steady on her.

She said, “Royce Sherman could’ve gotten under anyone’s skin. Any number of people could have followed him from the bar to that side road.”

“It was all I could do to keep from decking him when Hick and I interviewed him,” Wiley said. “So I would tend to agree with you, Ms. Bennett. Except I just wonder how many of Royce’s potential grudge bearers would use an electrolarynx?”

The answer being obvious, as were its implications, Jordie sat down on the sofa and folded her arms across her middle in a subconscious gesture of self-protection.

“I don’t think Uncle Clive killed him,” Hickam said.

“Me either.” Wiley sighed and looked down at Jordie. “This public hotel has become too public for comfort. As a precaution, we’re going to move you to a safe house.”

“You checked me in under an assumed name, and only we in this room know that I’m here.”

“I’m not willing to bet your life on that,” Wiley said.

She didn’t argue with him, but she didn’t believe that relocating her would guarantee her safety. Panella had far-reaching tentacles and thirty million dollars’ worth of resources. If he wanted to find her, he could.

All this time, Hickam had periodically been calling the unknown number on the cell phone. He called it again now. They could all hear it ringing, but there was no answer.

“I’ve called back several times,” Jordie told him. “He hasn’t answered.”

“No hint of where he is?” Wiley asked.

“I begged him to tell me. He refused. He’s afraid that Panella is watching me, that if I go to him, Panella won’t be far behind.”

Wiley scratched his head. “Josh must be in the general vicinity, or he wouldn’t have seen that news story about Sherman. What I don’t get? Once he retrieved the car from the public storage place, he could’ve gone anywhere on the continent. Instead he returned here where recapture is much more likely. Also the first place Panella would look for him. So why’d he come back? It’s not like he has a passel of friends and relatives who’d give him a place to lay low. In fact, there’s only one person on earth who’d do that.”

On the last sentence, the agent’s tone changed and he assumed an interrogator’s stance in front of Jordie. She shifted her gaze to Hickam, who was holding the cell phone in his palm. Suddenly it looked incriminating. Going back to Wiley, she said, “I’m certainly not harboring him. How could I be?”

“By not telling us where he’s hiding.”

“I don’t know! I’ve told you everything that was said during my conversation with him. I impressed on him that his best option was to turn himself in and take his punishment.”

“He wouldn’t hear of it,” Wiley said.

“Not…not exactly.”

“Then what exactly, Ms. Bennett? What did he say?”

You hope I die. “Nothing. He hung up. But at the very least I believe I got him to thinking about surrendering.”

She looked at each of them in turn, gauging how much or how little of what she’d said they believed. The only return stare that unsettled her was Shaw’s. She looked away from its unblinking incisiveness.

After a moment, Wiley said, “Well, every law enforcement officer in the state and beyond is looking for him. He’d be better off surrendering before he’s caught, or injured in the process of being captured.”

“Or before Panella finds him,” Hickam said.

“Hope to God that doesn’t happen. But we can’t make a strong case for surrender until he contacts one of us again.” Wiley gestured to the phone Hickam had laid claim to. “Now that he’s connected with Ms. Bennett, he’ll more likely call her than me, so get one of the techies to sit on that phone like a hen on an egg.”

The meeting broke up after that. Hickam sat down at the desk and began making calls. Gwen excused herself to do the same. Wiley walked over to Shaw and ordered him out of the chair.

“I’m driving you to the hospital.”

“Fuck that.”

“Enough with the tough-guy shit. You’re only human.”

“Oh, I’m human all right.”

“Okay, so give yourself time to recover.”

“I’ll recover.”

“Not unless you rest.”

“I’m staying.”

“Look,” Wiley said angrily, “I don’t want you dying on me of pure bullheadedness.”

“I’m not going to die.” Looking past Wiley, he addressed Jordie directly. “Panella is. I’m gonna kill him.”

Chapter 31

Gwen Saunders was joined by two other U.S. marshals—fit young men in jeans and black t-shirts—who were called in to assist with Jordie’s relocation. Among the marshals, Wiley, and Hickam, it was decided to wait until after full dark to make the transfer.

Shaw supported the postponement. That gave them several hours to plan how they would go about it and which safe house in the area would provide the best protection.

Shaw left the logistics of the process for the rest of them to sort out and took Wiley up on his suggestion that he sleep during the intervening hours. He didn’t feel the need to be hospitalized, but his body was demanding some downtime.

“Take Gwen’s bedroom,” Wiley said. “She’s going to be busy and won’t be using it.”

Jordie was in a huddle with Hickam and the marshals. Sensing his gaze, she looked at him, then quickly away. She was still furious at him for playing her. Or maybe her trip with Panella was the reason for her refusal to acknowledge him. Either way, she couldn’t avoid him forever. Even if she planned to, he wouldn’t let her.

He went into the bedroom and shut the door. The surgeon had instructed him not to get his incision wet for at least a week. He showered anyway, holding a plastic laundry bag over the wound with one hand, soaping and shampooing with the other.