Panic filled Jonathan’s throat. He forced his voice up through it. “Carly, no! Stay right where you are.” He risked a threat. “Carly, look at me. Look at what’s happening. Do not go get anything for him. Don’t risk your friend.”

“Relax,” Owen said. “It’s just the painting.”

“I said no.”

“Well then, go ahead and stab her and let me get on the road. This is getting fucking old.”

Jonathan felt Marcelline recoil the scant inch she could from the knife.

“Honestly,” Owen said. “It’s the painting. How else are you going to get it? How would that feel in your bladder to see me digging around in my car for something? Do you trust it? I wouldn’t. But you do you. As if you could even help it.”

Carly’s glare heated up. “Just stop. Both of you.” She stalked off toward the car without anyone’s permission.

“Unwrap it as you come, so he doesn’t mistake it for a machine gun,” Owen called back to Carly.

She did.

“I’m not booby-trapping her, Jonathan. None of this was my idea, remember? Never has been. I was going to blow you off. Carly made me come here. I already had what I came for. See?”

The comment made Jonathan look at Carly, who was studying the ground and cradling the painting. Marcelline couldn’t turn in the seat, but inclined her head. Fresh tears streamed down her face.

Carly’s shoulders were shaking with sobs.

Owen brought the group around from the moment of cascading emotions. “What’s with the bonfire? I’m not going to say it doesn’t make a hell of a backdrop. I could do without the smell, though.”

“It’s a timer, if you like. To keep this short. Someone is going to see that smoke. They’re going to call 911. It might have happened already. There’s a dead body in there.”

“You don’t say.”

“You guys can all be standing around like assholes when they get here. You can try to come up with something to say to the police or you can give me the painting and I’ll cut her loose. This can all be over in the next two minutes.”

“Two minutes? That’s a long time.” Owen walked off toward the truck. Jonathan didn’t know why he needed a closer look, much less a closer smell. He certainly wasn’t going to be able to put it out.

Some of the flames leaped off, cutting free from the body of fire before winking out above it. It was oddly beautiful.

Owen went around to the back of the truck. Jonathan could feel the heat from here. It must have been a broiler where Owen was standing.