Inside was a badly decomposed corpse. The eyelids were held open with toothpicks. The skeletal right hand was holding a pistol. On the left, a diamond ring glittered from the pinkie.

It was Billy Panella.

Chapter 40

Josh had clouted her over the head with the butt of his pistol. Close to losing consciousness, she’d been unable to protect herself when he pulled her hands together in front of her and secured them with flexcuffs. She’d barely swallowed the nausea rising in her throat before he stuffed a handkerchief into her mouth to prevent her from shouting for Shaw and Wiley.

He had dragged her down the staircase with such haste she’d almost stumbled over him. She wished she had. Of course, he might have shot her right then, ending her life before Shaw even knew she was in trouble.

Shaw.

The blow had left her dazed, her vision blurred. When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Josh grasped her bound hands, pulled her through the living room, down the steps, and across the clearing in front of the house. He then plunged into the thicket.

They’d been thrashing through it for several minutes now. Dizzy and disoriented, Jordie had glanced over her shoulder as she lurched along behind her brother, but already her view of the house was blocked. It was as though the hostile terrain had swallowed them. Shaw had warned her of the swamp’s hazards the night he’d taken her.

Shaw.

It was as though she wasn’t gagged and had spoken his name out loud, because Josh said, “That numbskull Mickey Bolden sure could choose his sidekicks, couldn’t he? He picked a cop? Or is this Shaw Kinnard character FBI? Treasury?”

When and how had Josh discovered that Shaw wasn’t a hit man and kidnapper?

“Doesn’t matter what kind of cop he is,” he continued. “He ruined everything on Friday night. What really hacks me, I never got my advance back from big fat Bolden.”

Her mind was beginning to clear, but nothing Josh was saying made sense.

“Hurry, Jordie.” He picked up his pace, roughly tugging her behind him. “No time to waste. Soon, he and Wiley will discover Panella’s rotten corpse. Won’t that be a surprise? Sure as hell came as a shock to you, didn’t it?”

He stopped and turned suddenly. “Using an electrolarnyx was a stroke of genius if I do say so myself.” He removed it from his rear pocket and held it up to his throat as he said, “Even Mickey Bolden was fooled into thinking I was Panella, and you know what bosom buddies they were.”

Jordie recoiled.

“What’s the matter? Don’t like the sound of it?” Laughing, he replaced the instrument in his pocket. “I’ll keep it as a souvenir of my stint playing Panella. It wasn’t easy, you know, keeping the cell phones straight, which to answer as Panella, which to use when I was myself. Talk crude and tough like Panella would. ‘Kill her, already!’ Then ’fraidy cat Josh.” He changed his voice into a falsetto. “‘I’m so scared. Is Jordie okay? Please save my sister.’”

The last of the fog was lifting from her brain, and things were becoming horrifyingly clear. Josh, not Panella, had plotted her death. He was the one who’d bargained with Shaw to end her life.

He rambled about Panella somehow discovering that he planned to turn informant. “I had no idea he knew about the house, but he barged in early one morning. He got rough and threatened me with the most disgusting methods of torture. You wouldn’t believe what he threatened to do to me if I didn’t tell him everything I’d already told the feds about our fraud.

“But I didn’t feel the least bit bad about betraying him. Why should I? I’d done all the brain work. When it boiled down to it, he was nothing but a smarmy front man with capped teeth.”

This wasn’t the Josh who pitched fits, had panic attacks, and blubbered when frightened. This Josh was calmly detached, and he was terrifying. Frantically she looked behind her again, but the thicket through which they’d just come appeared undisturbed except for a cloud of microscopic insects.

“Anyway, back to that morning six months and thirteen days ago, there he was, holding me against the wall, choking me, growling and snarling, being Panella. He didn’t expect cringing, hysterical me to shoot him in the belly. I’m not that good a shot. I went for mass. You should have seen the look on his face.”

He turned his head and showed her a gross imitation of it before continuing on.

Shaw and Joe Wiley would discover her gone and come looking for her. She just had to live long enough for them to get to her, because she knew with certainty that Josh’s intention was to kill her. He wouldn’t be confessing all this if he planned to let her live.

How much time did she have? How long would it take for Shaw to find her? Would she ever see his face again? His scarred, severe, beautiful face.

Josh was telling her that he hadn’t had time to dispose of Panella’s body before he was due to tender himself to Uncle Sam. “I had no choice except to bag him up and leave him here, and actually, since I got back, he and I have had some interesting conversations.” He giggled. “Of course I did most of the talking. He just laid there, staring up at me. For a change he was forced to listen while I ranted. I loved it. He really stunk up the place, though.”

She scanned the surroundings for something she could use to defend herself. Even if the ground were strewn with potential weapons, her hands were bound and Josh was giving her no time to stop. Each time she stumbled or slowed down, he nearly pulled her shoulders from their sockets, jerking her along.

He was still talking. “After I killed him, I went to his house and made it look like he’d left in a hurry. Everyone jumped to the conclusion that I knew they would, that he’d successfully skipped the country. All I had to do was cool my heels for a while, let things settle down, gradually alter my appearance for the day I would escape.

“I took a risk by coming back here, but I didn’t want to miss all the fun. The fallout from your getting whacked, that is. I planned on hiding out here to enjoy the hubbub, the media coverage. But, thanks to Bolden’s humongous screwup, things took a turn and put me behind schedule on disappearing for good.

“I’ve perfected becoming invisible, you know,” he said, continuing in that frightfully normal, conversational tone. “Nobody sees me because I don’t want them to. Which is how I was able to go to the redneck bar unnoticed. I nearly came unglued last Friday when Bolden called and told me you’d walked into the very bar where he and Kinnard were having a drink. That is not your kind of place, Jordie. How’d you happen to be there?”

He looked back as though expecting her to reply. She made pleading sounds against the gag.

He resumed walking and talking. “Never mind. It doesn’t make any difference now. I went there Sunday night to check the place out. The loudmouth put me in such a foul mood. That was also the night when Wiley informed me of your rescue. Your second rescue. Foiled again. I decided Panella needed to surface, scare the shit out of everybody. ‘He’s out there. I know it! He’s gonna kill me!’” he screeched, mimicking his own hysteria.

“The black guy? Hickam? He was dropped in my lap, so to speak. I acted on impulse, but it was brilliant. How about this?” He began limping. “I knew that would jog your memory, and you’d tell them that it had to be Panella.”