Sting

“Where did he get a phone? When?”

“Where? Anywhere. When? Hell I know,” Joe grumbled. “He may have had it secreted somewhere all along. He could have a dozen of them. An inexhaustible supply of disposable SIM cards.”

“He sounded scared, though.”

“Well he should be. If he talks himself into believing that Panella is willing to let bygones be bygones, he’s an idiot.”

“I don’t think he’s an idiot.”

“Neither do I. For all his bluster, he’s scared. Why else would he volunteer that information about Jordie?”

“Do you think it’s true?”

Joe rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t know. But—” He broke off when his phone chirped. He reached for it quickly, thinking that maybe the fugitive was calling back. But after seeing the caller ID, he said to Hick, “Morrow,” and braced himself for bad news. Had Jordie Bennett been found? Or only what was left of her?

“Hey, Morrow.” Joe listened for several seconds then frantically motioned Hick toward the driver’s side of his car, saying into the phone, “We’re on our way.”

Even if he and Hick would have been comfortable taking the chopper back out, Joe wouldn’t have asked a pilot to risk flying in this weather. So they had to drive, and it was like doing so underwater. Windshield wipers were useless against the cascade.

An hour and a half outside New Orleans, Hick was leaning forward over the steering wheel and gripping it with both hands. Joe said, “Is there a black equivalent to ‘white-knuckling’?”

Without taking his eyes off the road, Hick gave a wry smile. “Don’t know of one, but it applies.”

“Should be coming up on the turnoff soon.”

To Deputy Morrow’s knowledge there wasn’t a physical address for the barnlike structure in which Shaw Kinnard was holding Jordie Bennett hostage. But he’d provided Joe with the nearest highway intersection, which Hick had located by using the car’s GPS. From there, Morrow had given him oral directions by phone.

Now, as they rounded a bend in the rural road, Hick said, “This must be the place.”

Through the rain, light bars of several squad cars were flashing their tricolor warning. Some of the vehicles were parked end to end along the shoulder; one was sideways in the middle of the road. A state trooper, outfitted in a slicker, alighted from the passenger side and came over as Hick rolled to a stop and lowered the driver’s window.

A waterfall of rainwater flowed from the brim of the trooper’s hat as he dipped his head and peered in at them. “Agent Wiley?”

“I’m Wiley. This is Agent Hickam.”

The trooper acknowledged them in turn and introduced himself. “The building’s about half a mile up the road, which has turned to mush in this rain.”

“Is this the only road in and out?”

“Yes, sir. Dead-ends at the building, which backs up to wetlands.”

“We don’t know if he has a vehicle, but we have to assume so. If he somehow eludes us—”

“He’ll have to get past all of us here, and that ain’t gonna happen.”

Joe liked the trooper’s confidence. “We don’t know what kind of arsenal he has, so be careful.”

“Y’all, too.”

The trooper backed away and signaled the driver of the unit parked sideways to pull forward. Once they were past the roadblock, Hick followed the trooper’s flashlight as he motioned him into a left turn.

The road was mush. They slip-slid for the approximate half mile until they came to a ditch on the verge of overflowing. Beyond it loomed a structure described to Joe by Morrow as a cross between a barn and a garage on steroids.

Parked in front of it were numerous squad cars, several official SUVs, and two ambulances. Law enforcement personnel were outfitted in rain gear, making it difficult to differentiate the various departments represented unless their backs were to Joe and he could read the reflective letters on their slickers. Most reassuring to him was that there were plenty of them, signifying a lot of firepower.

As Hick carefully steered their car across the road spanning the swollen ditch, one of the officers separated himself from the rest and came slogging toward them. It was Morrow. Beneath the brim of his hat, his face was set with tension.

Joe motioned for him to join them inside the car. He opened the backseat door and got in, mumbling an apology for slinging rainwater. Joe asked him if there had been any change since they’d last talked.