Cab returned along the sidewalk of Bayshore Boulevard to the corner of Diane’s sprawling estate. He didn’t see anyone on the streets. When he climbed into his Corvette, he realized that the sheer pounding of the storm had left his muscles aching and stifled his hearing. He glanced in the mirror and saw that the cut on his cheek had stopped bleeding. His blond hair lay flat on his head.

He grabbed his phone.

He scrolled through his recent calls and found the number from which Ramona Cortes had invited him to lunch. He dialed the number, but there was no answer on her private cell phone. He left a message asking her to call him, and then he found the number for the offices of the Attorney General in Tallahassee. It was a public holiday, but he suspected that the office would be staffed while Chayla was assaulting the Gulf coast in the middle of a statewide campaign. Three transfers later, he found himself connected to a senior aide to Ramona Cortes.

‘I’m very sorry, Detective,’ she told him, ‘but Attorney General Cortes isn’t in the Tallahassee office today.’

‘I understand. It’s important that I talk to her soon. We had lunch on Monday, and she asked me to stay in touch on an investigation I’m running.’ That was partly true, so he didn’t feel guilty about fudging the facts.

‘Let me see what I can do, Detective.’

Cab hung up, but before he could decide on his next move, his phone rang again. Not more than five minutes had passed.

‘Detective Bolton? It’s Jaci Muzamel. I’m Ramona’s personal assistant. I understand you’re trying to reach her.’

‘I am.’

‘I have instructions to put you through if you call. Ramona is still in Tampa for the campaign, but unfortunately, she’s not reachable right now.’

Cab was surprised that Ramona had anticipated that he might call her again – and that she would consider it a priority to take his call. ‘It would be helpful if I could talk to her as soon as possible,’ Cab said. ‘I know the storm is causing problems everywhere.’

‘It is, but the storm’s not really the issue. Ramona is very regimented about her workout routine. I’m not even sure a hurricane would keep her away from the club. She always turns off her phone. It’s the one hour of the day she keeps to herself.’

Cab glanced up the street toward Bayshore Boulevard. ‘Is that the Tampa Yacht Club? That’s where I met her for lunch.’

‘Actually, it is.’

‘Well, I’m not far away from there,’ Cab said. ‘Would she mind if I drove over and met her in person?’

‘I think that would be fine. She was adamant that she wanted to talk to you if you tried to reach her. I’ll call ahead to the club and have them let you in.’