Then he tsked with regret. “But Hickam didn’t die. I should have gone for mass then, too, but I’d done so well with that redneck, I thought a head shot would work. Oh, well, one can’t have everything one wants.”

He was insane. How could she defend herself against someone who’d lost all touch with reality? And she was running out of time to think of a way. Just ahead of them was the bayou. On the bank was a small fishing boat, apparently his destination.

He pulled her over to it and yanked the handkerchief from her mouth. “Josh,” she gasped. “Please? Let me help you.”

“Help me? That’s a laugh.”

“What is it you want?”

Cautiously he took a step back, but was still within a foot of her as he raised the pistol. “To disappear and never have to worry again about people gaping at me.”

“Nobody gapes at you.”

“Yes they do. You made sure they do. You pushed me into the fireplace and made me a freak show.”

Stall, stall, stall. She tipped her head toward the boat. “You intend to escape in that?”

“No, silly. My car is parked just around the next bend. I can make it that far in this boat. You’ll be dead, and I’ll be long gone before they can catch me. But in order to disappear, I need my money.”

He waggled the pistol as though to remind her of it and that it was still aimed at her. “You’re the only thing standing between my fortune and me. What’s the password?”

“Password?”

He rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for you to play dumb. Give me the password. The second password. The one required to access the main account. ‘Jordan Bennett’s password,’” he said in a ridiculously tony British accent.

“Josh, I swear to you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She raised her bound hands in appeal. “How could I have a password into an account I know nothing about?”

“You cracked my security codes.”

“That’s absurd. I wouldn’t know how, or even where to start.”

He screwed up his face mistrustfully, then seemed to come to a conclusion. “You wouldn’t, would you? Even if you’d had access to my computers, which you didn’t, you’re not smart enough to know how to do something that complicated.”

“That’s right,” she said, grasping at that and hoping to appeal to his pride. “You’re the genius, not me. I’ve never been as smart as you.”

“Not even close.”

“Because you’re so intelligent, you must realize that you can’t escape.”

He resumed his chatter as though she hadn’t said anything. “What I’m thinking now is that if Panella was on to my betrayal, and he knew about this house, he must’ve gone in behind me and added that second password. He put it in your name, knowing how badly that would irritate me. Yes, that must be what happened.”

“No doubt you’re right. But that’s history, Josh. They’ll find his body. The police will come and—”

“Not your worry. You’ll be dead.”

“You don’t want to kill me, Josh.”

“But I do, Jordie,” he said with exaggerated sincerity. “You made me a monster. You destroyed my entire life.”

She knew that to continue arguing with him would be pointless and probably would only provoke him into killing her immediately. “I know I made mistakes,” she said with contrition.

“Yes, you did. The biggest one being when you said, ‘I’m done.’ Remember? There I am, manacled, being hauled away like a common criminal, and there you are, hugging me good-bye, tears in your eyes. Oh such a sweet, supportive, loyal sister. Aren’t you wonderful?”

He sneered. “But wait. What’s that you’re whispering in my ear? ‘I’m done, Josh.’” He jabbed the pistol toward her. “You don’t get to say ‘I’m done.’ Not when it was you who ruined me. You’ll never be done. Never!”

His voice had gone maniacally shrill. Realizing it, he composed himself and said with chilling nonchalance, “In a way, I’m actually glad Bolden botched it. I have the pleasure of killing you myself.”

“You’re not killing anybody.”

Chapter 41

Shaw had followed the scrambled footprints into the thicket.

He was no longer under the delusion that Panella was responsible for the murder and mayhem of the past week. Once he had connected all the disjointed pieces, the picture had become startlingly clear. Elements to the case that had seemed not quite to fit before had suddenly fallen into place.

Josh had impersonated Panella, deliberately turning everyone’s focus on the meanie, while the stool pigeon duped them all. Shaw would kick himself later over not seeing it before, but when he’d started into that thicket, his focus had been on protecting Jordie from her deranged brother.

Josh was brilliant enough to have pulled off this elaborate charade, but he was also as crazy as a shit house rat. Like all rats, he got even crazier when trapped. Shaw hoped to God Wiley would have the presence of mind to caution every law officer on their way not to blare their arrival. He’d thought about stopping his pursuit long enough to text Wiley a message to that effect, but that would have cost precious time. He’d kept moving.

It was insufferably hot and sultry. Sweat had begun to sting his eyes. It had plastered his shirt to his torso. But he’d kept up a steady pace until he’d caught snatches of conversation up ahead, which meant that he was gaining on them. Ordinarily he would have been worried that his crashing progress through the brush would alert Josh that he was closing in.

But he’d doubted Josh was aware of his encroachment. Josh had been making more noise than he, snapping twigs, rustling foliage, and he’d kept up a running dialogue at full volume. The guy was completely psychotic.

Which had driven Shaw near crazy himself. He hadn’t heard anything from Jordie. Was she seriously wounded or unconscious? Josh might have already killed her and was only carrying her body somewhere for disposal.

That thought had chilled Shaw even as it had caused him to sweat more profusely. He muttered a blasphemous stream, followed by a prayerful chant, rage and worry twisting his gut where he’d felt stitches giving way to tension and exertion.

When he realized Josh had stopped somewhere ahead of him, he’d slowed down and had gone the remaining distance as noiselessly as possible. He’d taken a position behind a tree trunk and peered around it.

Jordie was alive! Thank God. She was standing on her own two feet. But her hands were bound in front of her. She had dozens of bleeding scratches on her arms. Blood had run down the side of her face from her scalp and now dripped off her chin.

Her expression was a tortured mix of compassion, revulsion, and terror, perhaps fully realizing for the first time that not even her selfless, sacrificial love was sufficient to penetrate her brother’s madness.

As Josh aimed the pistol at her, her face had remained stark with fear, but she looked him straight in the eye and didn’t cower.

Shaw had battled a primitive impulse to drop Josh immediately, but that would have traumatized Jordie. He wouldn’t do that to her. Besides, the government didn’t want Josh dead. It needed him in order to recover the stolen millions.