“Frank Betancourt knows,” I say after a moment. “About you.”

He looks down at me, studying me intently. “You’re lying.”

“He knows you’re part of it. I told him. Dan, it’s over. Give it up while you still can.”

Smucker and Yoder emerge from the barn. There’s blood on Smucker’s coat where I shot him. I look at it, meet his gaze, and force a smile. He starts toward me, cursing, but Suggs stops him. “Go get the other woman. Tie her up. Bring her down.”

“Alina?” Yoder casts him a mutinous look.

“She ran her mouth to a cop, idiot.” Suggs gestures at me. “She saw this one’s face. You gotta get rid of her, too.”

Neither man looks happy about it, but they go back inside.

Suggs sighs and looks down at me. He offers the flask, but I shake my head. He takes another long pull.

“Tell me one thing,” I say.

“Guess I owe you that much.”

“What happened to Rachel Esh?” I ask.

He looks away, wipes his mouth with his hand. “Damn stupid kid. She knew too much. Tried to run.”

“She didn’t die out in the snowstorm all by herself, did she?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Who?”

His eyes fill with tears. Plucking off a glove, he rubs them hard with his fingers. “Goddamn this is a mess.”

“What happened to her?”

Sniffing a runny nose, he turns his head and spits in the snow. “Let’s go inside.” He takes my arm and hauls me to my feet. “Come on. Up and at ’em.”

For an instant my head spins, but I shake it off. Something heavy in my coat pocket, brushing against my hip. The pepper spray. I can’t believe they didn’t find it. I feel Suggs’s eyes on me and I pray he can’t read my thoughts. Keep him talking. I say the first thing that comes to mind. “How did she die?”

A quiver runs through him. He stops our forward progression and looks at me, his expression angry, as if I’ve overstepped some invisible line of decorum. “I figure that’s the last thing I want to talk about.” He nudges me toward the barn door. “Move.”

I do as I’m told. “I’m scared.”

“Nothing I can do about that now.”

We go through the door. His right hand grips my left bicep. He’s so close I can hear his breathing. I feign a stumble and twist right. Jamming both hands in my pocket, I yank out the pepper spray. He releases my arm, reaches for his pistol. I spin toward him. The revolver coming up. But he’s not fast enough. I spray his face. High velocity, right in his eyes.