The old guy set up a new fluster of gesticulations that his son accepted without argument. The cabin cruiser swung in and approached an island that rose from the surface of the sea with dramatic limestone cliffs crowned by bushes and the occasional palm tree. On closer inspection the cliffs weren’t as tall as they first looked, little higher than twenty feet, but they still appeared to be a natural bulwark against the sea. We followed a spur of the cliff and turned into a natural cove, where men with automatic rifles waited for us.

Bryce inhaled sharply, but a quick glance at Rink’s nonchalance made him relax. Rink raised a hand in greeting and the men lowered their guns and waved back.

Rink bunged the old guy a roll of dollars as we disembarked on to a short jetty made from weathered wood. Then the cabin cruiser backed out and took off for Rock Harbor.

Twenty minutes later, the three of us were on a plane headed north on the first of three hops to Maine. In a few short hours we’d go from tropical sunshine to icy rain, and just the thought made me shudder. But it wasn’t the prospect of the impending cold that made me shake: it was what I might find when we arrived there.

Chapter 13

13

In a woodland glade near to the Narraquaquas River in Washington County, Rickard shot Imogen Ballard.

It was easier transporting her if she couldn’t put up a fight.

Depending on her outlook when she finally woke up, she’d probably prefer it that he’d used the gun with which he’d shot the state troopers instead of the same tranquilizer gun he’d used on her the first time.

He propped her in the passenger seat of his newly appropriated vehicle, a blanket tucked around her and a pillow behind her head as though she was taking a well-earned nap. He slipped a hand under the blanket, caressing her thigh while he made an overdue telephone call to his wife.

“Hi, honey, it’s me.”

In their loft apartment in Miami, Alisha held her breath for a second too long.

“Aren’t you happy to hear from me?” Rickard asked.

“Of course I am, Luke.”

“Me too, babe. I’m missing you. Are you missing me?”

“Yes.”

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

“I am, Luke, I’m missing you like crazy. I wish you were home . . .”

Rickard smiled to himself, and allowed his hand to slip between Imogen’s legs.

“There’s nothing more that I want, but you know how things are: if you want all these fine things, I have to work all the hours I can. You’re not growing ungrateful, I hope . . .”

“I don’t care about anything else, Luke. I’d be as happy with nothing.”

“As long as you’re with me, right?”

“That’s what I meant, Luke. I only want you.”