When the pickup was gone, the sound of its engine faded from earshot, and another car door opened and closed. Behind him, George could hear Titus talking to a woman. He looked despairingly at Mike Rilling, whose blood was already fading into the dirt. Poor fool.

The sound of footsteps made him tense. Titus appeared in front of him. He set down a folding chair and left without a word or a glance in George’s direction.

“Keep it short,” Titus said.

“I’ll keep it however I wish, Mr. Eskridge.” Calista Dauplaise sat in the chair. “Hello, George.”

Jenn opened the front door a hair and slipped out onto the porch. She shielded her eyes with her hand. Damn lights were bright. Hendricks stood just inside the doorway, behind her, gun drawn.

“Down on the ground!” the agent barked. “Fingers interlocked behind your head.”

“Let me see some ID,” Jenn yelled back.

“Come down off the porch, ma’am, and we can talk.”

“Not until I see ID.”

The two agents conferred for a moment and then came forward slowly. The rear one had his suit jacket pushed back and his hand at his beltline. “A fragile situation” was what one of Jenn’s instructors called these moments. And they had a nasty habit of slipping out of control over the least little thing.

The lead agent wore an ID on a chain around his neck and waved it at her as they approached. As if she could see it from here. He just wanted her attention on it and not on his partner, who was lurking off to the right and behind him. Someone fancied himself a magician. Look at this hand while the other one’s busy elsewhere. If the other agent drew, Jenn’s view would be obstructed, and he’d have the drop on her.

Her eyes had adjusted to the glare enough that she could make out the outlines of at least five more agents standing behind the SUV’s open doors. Another agent had moved off to her left, flanking her some thirty yards away. It put him at the edge of an effective range for a handgun; he’d want to start moving up to close the distance. Unless the men at the back had rifles. In which case, if this thing went sideways, the house would be nothing but a shooting gallery, and they would wind up shredded paper targets.

A very fragile situation.

The lead agent came as far as Gibson’s car, which was still parked blocking the stairs leading up to the porch. He kept it between them and held up his badge for her to see. If it was a forgery, it was a damn good one. She tapped the back of her leg once and heard Hendricks curse softly.

“Satisfied?” the agent said. “Now, are you Jenn Charles?”

She nodded.

“Is Dan Hendricks with you? Is he in the house?”