“I don’t believe in ghosts,” Shaw said. “Which is why I hate that there are so many windows. We’re sitting ducks for anybody who might be inside looking out.”

“Josh wouldn’t shoot anybody,” Jordie said.

“Wasn’t referring to Josh.”

“Panella?” Without waiting for an answer, Wiley drew his weapon just as Shaw did. “No car here.”

“I noticed that,” Shaw said. “Not sure what it means.”

“Maybe it means that I was wrong,” Jordie said. “That no one’s been here in ages.”

“I don’t think so.” Shaw couldn’t explain why he felt that. It was a gut thing.

“I should call for backup,” Wiley said.

“No!” Jordie said. “Let’s at least determine that Josh isn’t here.”

“Or that he is,” Shaw said. “Sink down.” He took his foot off the brake and drove slowly toward the house, then stopped about ten yards short of the steps leading up to the porch. He opened the driver’s door and got out but remained crouched behind the door. Wiley did the same on the passenger side. Shaw looked across the car’s interior and said, “This is your show.”

Wiley called out Josh’s name and identified himself. “I brought your sister with me. She wants to talk to you.”

They waited in breathless anticipation, but there was nothing forthcoming from the house. Wiley tried again, putting more force behind his voice. “Josh? It’s time to surrender. You keep up this nonsense, you lose your bargaining position for leniency.”

The clock in the dashboard was a retro analog model. Shaw listened to it tick off another sixty seconds, and when still nothing happened, he opened the backseat door and motioned Jordie out.

“Take my place behind the wheel.”

One of his rules of engagement had been that if she came along, she was to do what he said, when he said it. She slid out of the back and into the front without question or argument.

He placed his hand on the top of her head and pushed her down. “Stay low. I’d leave Wiley here with you, but we need to go in from two different directions. Any sign of Josh, the rustle of one leaf, a bug fart, you lay down on the horn.”

“If Josh is in there, I’m praying he’ll come out with his hands up.”

“Me too. But in case another scenario plays out—”

“Like Panella?”

“Like anything. Hit the horn, and then floorboard the gas pedal.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t wait on us. You get clear. Understood?”

With obvious reluctance, she nodded.

Then he took the palm pistol from his boot and passed it to her. “If it really goes south, this is ready to fire. You’ve got seven shots. Don’t hesitate. Point and pull the trigger. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Will you do it?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Great. You choose now to turn perfectly honest. I’m used to you mouthing back.”

She gave him a tremulous smile. “Be careful.”

He kissed her hard and quick. “Count on it.”

Hunkered behind the driver’s door, he looked across at Wiley, who signaled that he would take the front. Shaw nodded and indicated that he’d cover the back. Each took a deep breath, then came out from behind his cover and ran toward the house.

Wiley clumped up the steps onto the porch. Before Shaw lost sight of him, he flattened himself against the exterior wall between two tall windows. Nothing happened. So far, so good.

Shaw dodged windows as he ran along the side of the house, staying close to the wall. He knelt once to look beneath the house, but the crawl space was clear.

When he reached the far corner at the back, he paused and looked behind him toward the car. Because of the glare on the windshield, he could barely make out the top of Jordie’s head. It passed through his mind that he would kill anybody who harmed a hair on it. No matter who it was.

He slipped around the corner of the house.

The backyard was a patchwork of bare ground and weeds. A set of tire tracks led back toward the front of the house and presumably the driveway. There was a shed, a detached garage, both derelict, nearly falling down. A rickety wooden pier standing on rotten pilings extended over the bayou, two rusty light poles flanking the end of it.

He registered all this in the seconds it took him to reach the back door. It was unlocked and opened directly into the kitchen. He swept it with his pistol. It was a pig sty. Garbage and empty food containers were everywhere. The sink was filled with grease-filmed, opaque water. On the dining table, in addition to several empty TV dinner trays on which a cockroach was feeding, were a box of wooden toothpicks, a pair of eyeglasses, and a wadded-up lottery ticket.

Wiley came in through the door that connected to the front of the house and shook his head. “Clear.” But Shaw pointed out the items on the table. The lottery ticket was a giveaway. Josh had bought one in the convenience store.

Shaw motioned for Wiley to stay where he was to cover both the front and back doors and tipped his head toward a hallway leading off the kitchen, pointing to himself. Wiley nodded. Shaw crept along the hall till he came to a doorway standing ajar. He nudged it open with the barrel of his pistol then rushed in swiftly but silently.

The window shades were pulled, making the room dim. It was minimally furnished. A twin bed with dingy sheets had been left unmade. An oscillating fan sat still on the nightstand, although the room could have used an airing. Dirty clothing was piled on the floor in one corner. Army khakis were among the other articles.

Shaw backed out without disturbing anything. Farther along the hall was another bedroom. It was vacant. There were no footprints in the thick layer of dirt on the floor. The bathroom between the two bedrooms was tiny. The shower stall was black with mold. The stained toilet stank of backed-up sewage. But the sink had been recently used. The bottom of it still had drops of water in it, and a damp towel had been folded over the rim.

He returned to the kitchen and reported to Wiley what he’d noted in the bathroom. “We can’t be too far behind him. Or someone.”

Not that he thought Wiley had overlooked either of the fugitives, but he wanted to see the front rooms for himself, and going through them was also the shortest route back to check on Jordie.

The kitchen doorway led into a formal dining area, empty except for a light fixture that was dangling from the ceiling by a cord. The living room beyond was also unfurnished, in total disrepair, and provided no hiding place. Planks in the hardwood floor were missing, but none of the gaps was large enough for a man to fit through. Besides, he’d just checked beneath the house. No one was hiding there.

He went through the front door and stepped onto the porch. Looking anxious, Jordie scrambled out of the car. He motioned her back. “This is his lair, all right. He’s definitely been here, but there’s no sign of him now.” Living, he thought. He was afraid of what he and Wiley might find in one of the outbuildings. “Stay here.”

“I want to see.”

He shook his head. “It’s a mess. Nasty. Holes in the floor. Unsafe.”

“Where are you going?”

“To check the shed and garage around back. Same rules apply. Lay down on the horn.”