Shoot Him If He Runs (Stone Barrington 14)

“Is he still here?”

“He seems to like the island.”

“Of course; bring him along. Seven-thirty?”

“That’s grand; we’ll look forward to it.”

Holly hung up, went into the house, got her laptop and took it out to the patio, where lunch was just being served.

“What’s with the computer?” Stone asked.

Holly glanced at the butler, who finished serving and went back inside. “Pepper is going to e-mail me the photographs of Robertson, Pemberton and Weatherby that were attached to their applications to buy a house here, and then I’m going to take Genevieve’s brilliant suggestion and e-mail them to Lance, if I think one of them might be Teddy.”

“Good.”

“By the way, the jet is picking us up at noon the day after tomorrow.”

“Regardless of what we learn?”

“These photos are our last gasp; if none of them is Teddy, we’re out of here. If one of them is Teddy, we’re out of here, too. Dealing with him is somebody else’s job.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Me too,” Dino said. “The sight of that shark off our beach nixed the place for me. I’m not going back in the water past knee-deep.”

“Oh, Dino,” Genevieve said, “the shark was just doing what sharks do. We’ve only seen him once, and he probably won’t be back.”

“I’m not going in the same ocean with him,” Dino said, digging into his seafood salad. He held up a forkful. “I’m happy to eat his lunch, but I’m not going to be his lunch.”

They ate in a leisurely fashion, and after an hour had passed, Holly checked her e-mail.

There was an e-mail from Ham: “Are you coming by here on your way back to D.C.?”

“I’ll see if we can stop by and pick up Daisy on the way back,” she responded, “but I won’t be able to stay. Give my love to Ginny.” She signed it and sent the mail.

“Nothing from Pepper?” Stone asked.

“Nope.”

“How long was it supposed to take?”

“He said a few minutes to hack into the government computer, and he’d have them to me in an hour.”

Stone checked his watch. “It’s been an hour and a half.”

“Maybe he got busy at work.”

Another hour passed, then two hours, and still nothing had arrived from Pepper. Late in the afternoon, Holly called Lance.

“Lance Cabot.”

“It’s your humble servant; something’s wrong.”

“What?”

“Pepper was supposed to e-mail me the photos within an hour after we talked. It’s been five hours, and I’ve heard nothing.”

“I suppose he could have become occupied with something else at work, but still, that doesn’t sound right.”