“You’re talking about Dan Keane—”

“All right, I’ll answer my own questions: DEA gets gutted by decriminalization.”

Bob felt his anger rising. This was groundless, unfair.

“I’ve known Dan for a dozen years. Nobody hates the drug trade more. Nobody has fought harder against the traffickers.”

“Right. And maybe he hates them so much that he doesn’t want to stop fighting them.” The simple logic of the conclusion struck Bob dumb for a moment. But logic wasn’t always the truth. He’d spoken to Dan not thirty minutes ago. It was unthinkable…

“It just can’t be. I won’t buy it.”

“All right,” Canney said. “You know the guy. I’ll go with your judgment.”

“There’s another explanation,” Bob said. “We just haven’t thought of it yet.” Another explanation… had to be… But what? Who?

20

“I’ve looked all over town and can’t find her,” Snake told Salinas.

He’d used the phone in his motel’s parking lot for the call. Not the best section of A.C., but his appearance attracted less attention here.

“That is because she is not in town,” Salinas said. “She has fled into the big woods in the center of the state.” Snake winced as another stab of pain shot through his head and eye. The pills had eased the agony since this afternoon, but these stabs were still frequent enough and severe enough to keep him on edge.

Poppy pain… all because of that bitch. What the hell was the matter with her? The damn kid belonged to someone else, yet she’d attacked him like a mother lion protecting one of her own cubs… hadn’t even sounded human, screeching like that.

Crazy bitch.

“ ‘Big’ woods? This is Jersey. There’s nothing big here.”

“The others who are looking for her disagree. They are launching a wide search for her tomorrow. And they expect to find her and the package. Tomorrow.” Salinas left the words hanging, and the emphasis was not lost on Snake.

Tomorrow…

Snake closed his good eye and tried to organize his thoughts. If they found Poppy, they’d find the tape.

Maybe she hadn’t had the tape with her this afternoon, but after the big scene he’d made about it, he was willing to bet the rest of his life that she’d gone back and got it and listened to it, and knew what a bargaining chip she had.

The tape would land him in a federal prison and force Salinas to close up shop and leave the country. Salinas would be gone, but he wouldn’t forget. No matter what the prison, no matter what the security, Salinas would see to it that somebody got to him.

And even if Poppy had lost the tape, she could still finger him as the guy who set up the kidnapping. And then, as the only guy who could link Salinas to the plot, how long would he last?

Either way, betting the rest of his life didn’t seem a particularly heavy risk. So tomorrow it was do or die—literally.

But he was Snake. He could do it.

And not just to save his skin. Poppy had hurt him twice now—twice. Both times she’d taken him by surprise. No third time. No messing around with threats. He’d pop her as soon as he saw her and search her body and the truck. And if he didn’t find the tape, then so be it. But no games this time: Poppy was dead.

“I think you’d better come in,” Salinas said. “We need to make contingency plans should this tape be found.” Snake knew what that meant. Fat chance.

“I’ve still got tomorrow. Plenty of time.”

“You are one man. They are many, with helicopters. You cannot hope—”

“If I can get a little goddamn support, I can get to her first, dammit!” He wanted to scream at Salinas. Didn’t he know who he was dealing with?

This is Snake talking here. I can turn the tables on the feds and stupid greaseballs like you any day. I can take this big-ass search and turn it to my advantage.

“What sort of support do you need?”

“Mostly information. You’ve got a pipeline. Here’s what I need.” Snake began reeling off his list.

21

“That was you?” Katie said, pointing to the photo in the scrapbook.

Poppy sat on the sofa in Uncle Luke’s front room and stared at her seventeen-year-old self, dressed in her old number 23 basketball uniform, hair pulled back into a ponytail that trailed halfway down her back, long legs bare, knobby knees bent, poised at the foul line to make a free throw.

Only ten years ago… yet it totally seemed like some one else, like a photo from another century.

She looked at that fresh face, those clear eyes that had a whole different future planned out… no idea at all what the next ten years would hold.

“Yeah, that was me.” The other me.

She glanced at her Uncle Luke. “I can’t believe you like saved all this stuff.”

“What else was I going to do? After your father died, I couldn’t just throw it out. And besides…” He turned his head away.

“Besides what?”

“He asked me to keep your scrapbooks and trophies. He said he… he knew you’d come back some day.” Poppy closed her eyes and tilted her head back. She didn’t want to cry again.

All the pain she’d caused in her life. What was wrong with her? She’d been around for like a quarter century… Jesus, you’d think I’d be able to get something right by now.

“Uncle Luke.” An urgent-sounding knock on the door interrupted her. In a surge of panic, she wrapped her arms around Katie.

“Wait!” she said in a fierce whisper. “Don’t answer that!” But then a voice called from the other side.

“Luke! It’s me—Matt!” Poppy relaxed, but only a little. Uncle Matt. That was okay—she hoped.

Uncle Luke gave her a strange look, then opened the door. Uncle Matt, a thinner, bearded version of Uncle Luke, stepped in, all excited and talking a blue streak.

“Luke, there’s been men in town asking about—” His voice cut off as he spotted Poppy and Katie.

“Hi, Uncle Matt.”

His eyes widened. “Is that you. Poppy?” She nodded.

He gulped. “Then it’s true. People are looking for you. They say they’re from the government and that you—”

“Don’t believe them,” she said, quickly overcoming her shock. How could anyone—Mac, the feds, anyone— know to look for her here?

“Not even about being from the government.” She gave them a slightly cleaned-up version of events, something to the effect that she and Katie had witnessed a crime and the bad guys were trying to shut them up. She was trying to get Katie back home to her dad but her plans kept getting messed up.

“So those guys who’ve saying they’re feds might not be the real thing?” Uncle Luke said.

Poppy nodded and hid a smile. Announcing you were from the federal government—or any government, for that matter—was one sure way to get people in these parts to clam up.

“You always were trouble. Poppy,” Uncle Matt said. “You went and broke your father’s heart. You know that, don’t you.”

“Easy, Matt,” Uncle Luke said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We been through all that. What we got to do now is put her someplace where no one’ll find her till we straighten out who’s who.”

“That’s easy enough,” Uncle Matt said. “Hide her with the Appletons.” Poppy would have leaped off the sofa if Katie hadn’t been on her lap.

“Oh, no! Not them!”

“Where else you gonna stay, girl?” Uncle Matt said.

“They’ll be checking every Mulliner in the pines. But nobody’ll be checking the Appletons, even if they could find them.”

Oh, Jesus, she thought. Not the Appletons.

“He’s right. Poppy,” Uncle Luke said. “I’ll lead you out there come first light. Soon as I can see the road. Don’t worry. They won’t turn you away. You’re kin.” She knew. And the thought made her queasy. She’d almost rather face Mac again than move in with the Appletons.