“You should be glad you didn’t do a good job with faking that sketch. If you had told the media you’d helped us with a sketch of the murderer, you might have risked your own life. This way, you’ve just wasted only a bit of our time.”

He watched the myriad emotions chase across her face. Primarily, he saw, she was appalled she’d gotten herself in this fix. He watched her and waited.

She looked everywhere but at him. Finally, she lowered her face and whispered, “You’re right, Agent Savich, it’s not a secret I don’t have any money. I’m doing what I’m good at, trying to keep going somehow. And I’m afraid.”

“Is there a reason you haven’t told us, Ms. Ivy? Something you know?”

“No, nothing like that. But everyone I know is dying, and no one knows why.”

He said, “You have a right to be scared, Melissa, but not to be stupid. Instead of trying to scam us, you can help us.”

“How?”

“I’m going to search Peter’s apartment today, and I’d like your help in searching yours.”

Winkel’s Cave, front entrance

Team One

Claus parked the lead SUV on the shoulder of Wolf Trap Road that ran north and south about a hundred yards west of Winkel’s Cave. They had driven in slowly, all eyes alert for any movement, but no one was surprised they didn’t see anyone, not out here in the sticks three miles out of Maestro. There had been a couple of derelict houses spaced far apart, visible through the falling snow, but no sign of life.

The second SUV pulled up behind them, and everyone climbed out. They circled Claus, huddled together, their breaths mingling white puffs in the still air. They knew the light, lazy flakes wouldn’t last long. They were in for another heavy snow in a couple of hours.

Claus pointed. “The entrance to the cave is a hundred yards in through the maple and pine trees. There’s a rough path, but there’ll be a lot of rocks hidden by the snow, so be careful.” He checked to see that everyone’s flashlight and headlamp worked. They checked their weapons and the extra magazines in at their belts. They were ready. Claus nodded to Anna.

Anna said, “We didn’t see any signs of tire tracks coming in, but since it’s been snowing for a while now, they could be covered up. Best to assume they will have guards stationed near the front of the cave, even though Dix and Ruth think it’s closed down. Surprise is the key, so we’ll go in quiet, split up, and come at the cave entrance from opposite sides. If the sheriff is right and it looks abandoned, Claus will cut through the iron gate with his combi-tool and we’ll follow him in.”

Claus cleared his throat, so nervous and excited he could scarcely get enough spit into his mouth. He cleared his throat again. He’d already told them, but he couldn’t help repeating it again. “An explosion was set off in the cave last year—someone trying to cover up a murder—so the passage leading toward the rear entrance was caved in last time I was here. We’ll be climbing down before we get to it, and you may start to encounter some sharp debris from the explosion, shards of limestone and dolomite, rocks and dust. It may be slippery from the dust, so follow my lead.”

Anna picked it up. “As we’ve already discussed, some of the gang members have to be using Winkel’s Cave as their living quarters, if only to defend their stash at night. We’ll hope they cleared the debris away to give them access to more room and another exit.” Anna looked at each agent’s face, most of whom she knew, some married, some with kids, some drinking buddies or movie buffs, but all were smart, tough people. “We have ten minutes before we head into the cave.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s move out.”

She nodded to Claus, and he stepped down into a snow-filled ditch, holding the heavy cutting tool in both arms, and walked toward the thick woods. The agents filed in behind him. Anna stayed with Griffin at the back of the line, since with the leg wound the going would be slow. She knew he was grateful Brannon hadn’t decided to leave him behind.

They made their way quietly through the thick pine and maple trees, as silent as the falling snow dusting them and the trees around them in white. The morning was pure, that was the word that came to Griffin, and there was no wind. It was, he thought, like walking through a winter postcard—well, walking a bit on the slow side—and there might be people shooting at them soon.

A twig snapped beneath Anna’s hiking boot. She froze. He whispered, “It’s okay, only a field mouse could hear that.” Griffin knew he was holding Anna back, Anna the team leader, stuck staying back with him.