Pell rose and stirred the fire with a poker to keep the pages burning. He dusted his hands off. He held up his sooty fingers. “Makes me feel at home. I’ve been fingerprinted probably fifty times in my life. I can always tell the new clerks. Their hands shake when they roll your fingers. Okay, then.” He turned to Dance. “Now, I understand from your call earlier to Mr. Writer here you figured out about Rebecca. Which is what I have to talk to you about. What do you know about us? And who else knows it? We’ve got to make some plans and we need to know what to do next. And understand this, Agent Dance, you’re not the only one who can spot liars at fifty paces. I have that gift too. You and me, we’re naturals.”

Whether she lied or not didn’t matter. They were all dead.

“Oh, and I should say that Rebecca found another address for me. The home of one Stuart Dance.”

Dance felt this news like a slap in the face. She struggled to keep from being sick. A wash of heat, scalding water, enveloped her face and chest.

“You son of a bitch,” TJ raged.

“And if you tell me the truth, your mom and pop and kiddies’ll be fine. I was right about your brood, wasn’t I? At our first get-together. And no husband. You, a poor widow, Rebecca tells me. Sorry about that. Anyway, I’ll bet the kiddies’re with the grandfolks right now.”

At that moment Kathryn Dance came to a decision.

It was a gamble, and under other circumstances it would have been a difficult, if not impossible, choice. Now, although the consequences would probably be tragic, one way or the other, there was no option.

No weapons—except words, and her intuition. A to B to X…

They would have to do.

Dance shifted so she was facing Pell directly. “Aren’t you curious why we’re here?”

“That’s a question. I didn’t want a question. I wanted an answer.”

Make sure he remains in charge—Daniel Pell’s trademark. “Please, let me go on. I am answering your question. Please, let me.”

Pell looked her over with a frown. He didn’t object.

“Now think about it. Why would we come here in such a big hurry?”

Normally she would have used a subject’s first name. But doing so could be interpreted as an attempt to dominate, and Daniel Pell needed to know he was in control.

He grimaced impatiently. “Get to the point.”

Rebecca scowled. “She’s stalling. Let’s go, baby.”

Dance said, “Because I had to warn Morton—”

Rebecca whispered, “Let’s just finish up and get going. Jesus, we’re wasting—”