One side of his mouth turned up but it was no smile. “I should be asking the same of you,” he snarled as he bounded up to her.

“Can’t an island girl take a stroll? I love banyan trees, see, my faddah, he—”

“I haven’t seen him,” Jock said and stopped before her. “He’s just vanished like.”

Her gut twitched with uneasy feeling. “Wendell, you mean? Maybe they sent him on assignment.”

“He’s not. I got it on authority. I’m worried. I’m worried he might’ve told them where to get off instead.”

“Get off? Oh. Instead of what?”

“Instead of just getting his damn points and peace of mind and cure and getting posted the hell out of here.”

She nodded, glaring at the ground. It was clear to her now. They must be holding Wendell underground, below The Preserve. But no one went down there. Only Selfer could probably get her down there, but he refused to discuss the subject.

“What are you doing with those binoculars?” Jock said.

She winced and he could probably tell he’d caught her off guard. He certainly wasn’t drunk. Now she wondered if he’d been tracking her out here. He was a Marine guy after all.

She patted the binoculars inside her bag. “Just . . . taking in the volcanoes,” she said. “I was hoping there might be a way to climb up these roots for a better look.”

Jock nodded up at the roots. “Might be better if it was hollowed, then you make your way up without being exposed, but you’d still need a good perch with leafage for, uh . . .”

“For a sniper?”

“For the OP,” Jock insisted. “Observation post. It’s not always about killing.”

“No,” she muttered. “I guess not.”

This was an awkward moment for them. Neither had gotten too close to each other, even though each had to realize that the other knew a special side of Wendell Lett. Jock fell silent a moment. He kept facing her as if pretending to chat, should anyone be watching. But he peered side to side from the corners of his eyes.

“No one’s behind you, either,” she whispered.

“Let’s assume they’re holding him underground,” Jock said out one side of his mouth. “You think you could get to him?”

“Get to him how?”

“You know, with your contacts.” Charlie Selfer, he meant. Tricking him if she could.

“What then?”

“I’m not going to let the man rot, even if he is a doggie.”

She fought an urge to look around her now.

“No one behind you, either,” Jock added. “Just outback.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jock glanced in the direction of the lava tube. She held out her hands, shrugged.

“Just, let’s keep this between us,” Jock said. “Wendell’s life might depend on it.”

“I will let you know. Okay?”