"I tried that trade once. I was almost double-crossed by Mrs. Bitch Carrera."

"I'm killing him," Manny said. "Understood?"

Ty ignored his friend. "Then let's get it right this time. Let the boy go, Turner. You don't want to hurt a kid."

"I've investigated you, Sergeant North." This time, Turner's voice held a note of sarcasm and superiority. "Suppose you give me some of that trust fund you've got tucked away?"

Manny looked at North. "Trust fund?"

"My father left my mother some money," he said. "When she died, she left it to me."

Gus frowned. "I wondered how she managed to live off making collages and painting waterfalls. Christ, you have a father after all, huh? How much money he leave you?"

"I'm comfortable."

"How comfortable?" Manny asked.

North ignored both of them. They were all, he knew, focused on the job at hand. "I don't think Turner saw you," he told Manny. "I'll keep him talking. You want to get up there?"

Manny nodded. "I'll see what Carine's up to. A rock. I hope it's a big one." He glanced at North. "The Ran-courts have rifles. I'll see what I can grab. But if things go south up there, I'm going in."

"Valerie Carrera's dead." Turner's voice seemed louder, almost echoing across the valleys and ravines. "Someone should have found her body by now. Did you pass her on your way up here?"

"Tyler! Mom!"

Eric Carrera. His voice wasn't as strong as Turner's, but it was distinct. Manny couldn't stand it and jumped up. "Your mom's alive, son."

North grabbed him and jerked him back down behind the stone wall, but Manny was already diving. A shot sounded, hitting a rock two feet to their left, just above their heads, sending a chunk flying. It struck Manny on the right side of his head, tearing out a two-inch strip of flesh above his ear. "Negotiate, my ass. He's fucking out to kill us. Damn boonies, or we'd have a tac team here by now."

"There's only the one road up. They're not going to come in here with guns blazing. They'll plan it out first." North reached for a bandage in his med kit and handed it to Manny. "At least we know where Turner is."

Manny patched his bleeding head. The flying rock probably would have knocked anyone else unconscious. "Yeah. He's up in the fucking shed with my kid, shooting at us."

"At least Eric can talk," Ty said. "That's a positive."

Gus tried to move but moaned in pain, gritting his teeth. "Hank's up there-I'm betting Turner hasn't hurt him yet. He'll want to keep all his bargaining chips as long as he can."

Blood had dripped down the side of Manny's face onto his neck, but he didn't seem to notice. "He wants us dead, but on his terms."

North nodded. "We contain the situation. We keep Hank and Eric alive until we get help up here."

"Easiest way is to kill this fuck," Manny said, crouching down low, then moving quickly, making his way from cover to cover up the hill.

Thirty-Two

The shot had been close enough that Carine had felt its concussion, as if the air around her was compressed, the oxygen sucked out of it by the velocity of the gun burst. Itwassounexpected,sostartling,she'dalmostscreamed, and ended up biting the inside corner of her mouth.

Turner didn't have her. In fact, he'd slipped out of the warming hut and was moving around back, near her position in the trees. She was cold-no hat, no gloves, just her barn coat. At least she was basically out of the wind.

"Carine," Turner said softly, dried leaves crunching under him, "I know you're here. I have a soft spot for you. Join me. You didn't know about North's trust fund, did you? We can get away from here. I won't hurt anyone if you come with me."

Maybe North had a trust fund, maybe he didn't, but she didn't believe Turner planned to do anything but shoot her the first chance he got. Either he really was losing his grip on reality or he was just pretending to, toying with her, manipulating her. She sank low behind a low-branching white pine. If she moved, he'd hear her-she couldn't see him, but she knew he was close.

"I'm sick. I have cancer. It's all through me. No one's fault."

If true.

"It gives me perspective." His voice was eerily calm, almost toneless. "I know what I want before I die. Who I want to see die first. But I'd give that up if I could spend my last days with you."

She stiffened to keep herself from shivering with fear, the cold. She didn't dare look around the tree, make even the slightest sound.

"Tony-Louis-and I had a good thing going. I planned to live out my last months in style. I had a wife." His voice cracked. "The smuggling was to help set her and her idiot brother up for the future."

Carine had no choice but to let him talk. If he was talking-hunting her-he wasn't shooting anyone else. But had he seen her, heard her? Was he just playing with her before he pounced?

"Jodie Rancourt took up with Louis a year ago, before you took the pictures of our base of operations. She knew he was up to something, but she liked the sense of danger, the risk. She let us try out her and her husband's expensive guns."

Good God, Carine thought, wishing she had a tape recorder.

"He had them for show," Turner said as he crept around in the woods to her right, nearer the Rancourt house. "Louis wanted to kill you. I stopped him. I wanted to get the camera, make sure there were no incriminating pictures and make sure you were too scared to talk. Then the PJs and Hank Callahan showed up on the scene. I had to cut my losses."

She spotted him in the trees, up on the hill above her, still to her left, but if she stayed where she was, he'd see her. She picked up her rock and eased around the other side of her pine, making relatively little noise in the bed of red-brown pine needles. She hit grass, then quickly slipped into the back door of the hut.

Maybe it was what he'd planned all along. Corner her. Shoo her into the hut with Eric and Hank.

Eric was in the corner, sobbing and choking for air. Carine knelt down, setting the rock on the floor next to her, and quickly undid the bungee cords around the boy's wrists and ankles. "You heard your dad out there, right?"

The boy nodded. "He-he only tied me up this morning." But talking was clearly difficult for him, and once free, he immediately grabbed his inhaler, then sagged and threw it down. "None left."

"Look-sit tight," Carine said. "I'm going to untie Hank. Turner's outside looking for me. Maybe your dad and Tyler will intercept him."

She quickly ran to the front of the hut, where Hank was bound and gagged next to the small potbellied woodstove. Carine pulled the gag.

"Eric-he's going out the back. If Turner sees him-" Hank sat up straighter. "Go after him, Carine. I'll be okay."

He was bound with thin rope, the knots pulled tight. She tugged at them, trying to stretch the rope. "I can't get them without a knife."

"Go!"

She could hear Turner out front, stepping onto the ground-level porch. "What the fuck's going on in there?"

"We're out of time," Hank hissed.

She ducked down and ran toward the back of the hut, diving outside and down behind a woodbox next to the door. Eric was up by her pine tree, but he didn't stay put. He made a mad dash up the hill, into the woods, thrashing through the dried leaves.

Carine took a breath, pretending she was the one making the noise. "Gary," she said. "I told everyone you weren't trying to kill me that day last fall. The shack- you set it on fire?"

He was inside, moving toward her position. "I had to burn down the evidence. Manny Carrera was almost there-"

"He would have waited for the police. He was unarmed."

"I couldn't take that chance."

"What happened?"

"My wife was there. She tried to talk me out of burning everything down. She didn't want to give up. She and Tony Louis-they thought we could kill all of you."