“Wrong. We get called in on homicides, especially organized crime. Remember, I work in New York,” Agent Hill said.

She scrolled through the photos again, bookmarking two more. “I like these two. The wide-angle shot, where you can see the tip of the boat, and her with the chains and anchor, and then that first close-up of her head, with the blood, and then the shark shot.”

“Your call,” Joe said. “I’m just the muscle.”

Vikki Hill typed the text message into the phone.

Mission accomplished.

Next, she texted the three photos.

Consider this your invoice.

Joe helped himself to a gooey slice of pizza, then sprinkled red pepper flakes on it. “Now what?”

“Now we wait,” the agent said.

He looked over at Letty. “Are you okay? You look pretty pale.”

She managed a wan smile. “I thought that was the idea. I’m supposed to be a corpse, right?”

“That part of the charade is over,” he said.

“You did great,” Vikki said. “A real trouper.”

“I might never eat seafood again,” Letty said. “I must have used half the bottle of shampoo, trying to get that smell out of my hair.”

“Sorry…” Joe started to say.

Vikki’s phone pinged. She grabbed it up and read the text message out loud.

Where’s Maya? Is she okay?”

Vikki typed a quick reply.

She’s fine.

Wingfield texted back immediately.

Proof?

Vikki looked expectantly at Letty. “What should I say?”

Letty got up and went into the bedroom, where her niece was turned on her side, clutching Ellie to her cheek. She shut the door and went back to the dining area.

“Point out that it’s after nine o’clock, and she’s asleep.”

“Should we take a photo of her, to prove it?” Vikki asked.

Letty’s reply was sharp. “No. I don’t want her to wake up and think something is wrong. If Evan doesn’t like it, too bad.”

“Good idea,” Vikki said.

It’s after 9. She’s asleep. Long day.

Wingfield’s text was to the point.

No proof, no money.

Joe peered over the agent’s shoulder, reading the text as it appeared. “What a douche. Tell him your guy doesn’t like getting stiffed. No money, no kid.”

Vikki texted Joe’s message, verbatim.

They waited.

“Okay, I’ll take a very small glass of wine,” Letty said, after fifteen minutes of pacing the room. “Otherwise, I’ll never sleep tonight.”

She took the glass of wine and stood at the sliding glass doors, looking out at the rain. What would they do if Evan balked at completing the transaction? Would the FBI have enough evidence to arrest him? How could she prove she hadn’t killed her sister? Would Evan ever face charges for killing Tanya? Would she and Maya have to return to New York? The questions swirled around in her head as the minutes ticked slowly past.