“Apparently, Bennet’s instructions for the day were for Redburn to keep an eye on you at all costs. Redburn knew something big was going down, but in the end, he was supposed to be a part of it. Bennet had promised him that when all was said and done, they would be driving out of town together—but Bennet planned on flying off on his own.”

“If that’s the case, though, how did Redburn know Alan would be at the airport?”

“He didn’t. He was waiting in the Smythe parking lot, hoping to spot you again. He finally picked you up as you were leaving and followed you out there. You led him straight to the airport. Then when he realized what was going on, he acted out of anger. His lawyer’s in there right now, talking temporary insanity. But the general consensus is that the rifle he had with him was meant for you. Luckily, he went after Alan first.”

I swallowed hard. Real danger had come a little too close.

“What about Carlos?” I asked. “Does Redburn know anything about Carlos?”

“He swears not. And I’m inclined to believe him, though that’s one of the few things to come out of his mouth tonight that any of us believe.”

We talked a few minutes more, with the only other surprising information being how Alan Bennet and Monty Redburn had met in the first place. Apparently, the two men had been cellmates at Graterford State Prison a few years ago. Seems the police had been able to turn up a much more detailed—and truthful—history of Alan Bennet than I had.

I thanked Duane for his help and hung up the phone. I stared into space for a moment as I continued to piece together the facts in this case.

Alan Bennet had left two people hanging today—Judith Smythe and Monty Redburn—while he attempted to skip out on both of them. That directed my thoughts toward Angelina, yet another person he’d been stringing along. I wondered, had she been in on all of this, or had he hung her out to dry as well?

An idea struck me, and I put away my phone and sought out Nick. He seemed quite agitated, and I didn’t blame him. Everyone was concentrating on finding the missing Carlos, but Nick was equally concerned about his missing sister. I told him I had an idea, and I asked him to walk with me to her room.

When we got there, I headed straight for the mirror, pulling down the sexy photo of her smiling at the camera, her hair loose and blowing in the wind.

“Who took this picture?” I asked, holding it out to Nick.

“I do not know,” he replied, glancing at the photo.

I showed him the back with the scribbled hearts and the words “our special place.” This time, he studied it, frowning.