Marco pockets his Beretta inside his shoulder holster, and he pulls out a folding knife with a rubber grip and a curved serrated blade. He kneels next to Claire. He presses the point against her cheek, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but close.

“Don’t, Marco,” I say.

“She’s got pretty eyes,” Marco says. “It would be a shame to have to cut them out.”

“Don’t fucking touch her!”

Marco turns to me, keeping the blade against her skin. “You see,” he says, “this is what I didn’t have last time we met. Leverage.”

“Let her go, and I’ll tell you where they are,” I say.

“No,” Marco says. “Tell me or I hurt her. I won’t kill her, Logan, not yet, but I will hurt her.”

Last time Marco and I had a standoff, I had all the cards. This time, he does.

“I hid them at Lake Aloha,” I say, reluctantly. “It’s a lake outside of town. You have to hike there. She and I went up there last week and I got a few.” I gesture with my head toward the bathroom. “They’re in a bottle of ibuprofen in my medicine cabinet.”

Marco gives Jasper a nod, and the big guy goes into my bathroom. He comes back with a bottle of Advil. He shakes it and the tablets rattle around inside. He opens the bottle and pours maroon pills into his palm. He inspects them and dumps them on the floor. He pours another handful and sifts around in it. He holds his palm for Marco to inspect.

“Ah,” Marco says, digging two pea-sized diamonds from among the pills. He inspects them, staring obsessively as if he’s caught in a hypnotist’s trance.

“Here’s another,” Jasper says, and Marco plucks a smaller diamond from Jasper’s meaty hand and holds it up to his eyes.

“This one would be perfect for an engagement ring,” he quips, ruffling Claire’s hair.

“The whole bag is up there,” I say. “Three million on the low end. Five if you’ve got the right buyer. Let Claire go, and you can have them all. I’ll take you right to them. You just have to let her go.”

“No.” Marco shakes his head. “That’s not how we’re going to do this. We’re going up there together, all four of us.”

CHAPTER 16

THE VAN PULLS into the parking lot and rolls to a stop in an empty space facing the lake. I sit in the passenger seat, my wrists tied with duct tape. Behind us in the van, Claire sits with her hands and feet bound and tape over her mouth. She is trying not to cry, and failing. Jasper is twirling a lock of her blond hair with his finger.

“Don’t worry,” I say to Claire, craning my neck to see her. “We’re going to be okay.”