The detective nodded solemnly and he pulled Percey after him into the shallow notch in the earth.

Sachs checked the pistol. Four rounds left.

Plenty.

More than enough . . .

If I’m right.

Am I? she wondered, face against the wet, fragrant earth. And she decided that, yes, she was right. A frontal assault wasn’t the Dancer’s way. Deception . . .

And that’s just what I’m going to give him.

“Stay down. Whatever happens, stay down.” She rose to her hands and knees, looking over the ridge. Getting ready, preparing herself. Breathing slowly.

“That’s a hundred-yard shot, Amelia,” Bell whispered. “With a snub-nose?”

She ignored him.

“Amelia,” Percey said. The flier held her eyes for a moment and the women shared a smile. “Head down,” Sachs ordered and Percey complied, nestling into the grass.

Amelia Sachs stood up.

She didn’t crouch, didn’t turn sideways to present a more narrow target. She just slipped into the familiar two-hand target pistol stance. Facing the house, the lake, facing the prone figure halfway up the hill, who pointed the telescopic sight directly at her. The stubby pistol felt as light as a scotch glass in her hand.

She aimed at the glare of the telescopic sight, a football field away.

Sweat and mist forming on her face.

Breathe, breathe.

Take your time.

Wait . . .

A ripple passed through her back and arms and hands. She forced the panic away.

Breathe . . .

Listen, listen.

Breathe . . .

Now!

She spun around and dropped to her knees as the rifle jutting from the grove of trees behind her, fifty feet away, fired. The bullet split the air just over her head.

Sachs found herself staring at Jodie’s astonished face, the hunting rifle still at his cheek. He realized that he hadn’t fooled her after all. That she’d figured out his tactic. How he’d fired a few shots from the lake, then dragged one of the guards up the hill and propped him there with one of the hunting rifles to keep them pinned down while he jogged up the road and circled behind.

Deception . . .

For a moment neither of them moved.

The air was completely still. No tatters of mist floating past, no trees or grass bending in the wind.

A faint smile crossed Sachs’s face as she lifted the pistol in both hands.

Frantic, he ejected the shell from the deer rifle and chambered another round. As he lifted the gun to his cheek again Sachs fired. Two shots.

Both clean hits. Saw him fly backward, the rifle sailing through the air like a majorette’s baton.

“Stay with her, Detective!” Sachs called to Bell and sprinted toward Jodie.

She found him in the grass, lying on his back.

One of her bullets had shattered his left shoulder. The other had hit the telescopic sight straight on and blown metal and glass into the man’s right eye. His face was a bloody mess.

She cocked her tiny gun, put a good ration of pressure on the trigger and pressed the muzzle against his temple. She frisked him. Lifted a single Glock and a long carbide knife out of his pocket. She found no other weapons.