Including the wrong people.

The mama osprey dive-bombed toward her nest and Quinn, the intruder.

Moving fast, out of the angry bird’s path, she paddled straight for shore, using the wind to her favor. The closest, easiest spot to reach was the stretch of marsh where she’d found Alicia.

No wonder she ended up here, Quinn thought, leaping out of the kayak into the water and dragging it ashore.

“Quinn…help me.”

She thought she’d imagined the voice. Alicia?

“Quinn!”

Quinn picked up her kayak paddle. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Steve.” He was on his hands and knees in a snarl of brush and small trees, blood dripping down his left arm. “Please-Quinn, I need your help.”

Paddle in hand, Quinn shook her head. “FBI’s on the way. You need to tell them everything, Steve-you hear me? Everything.”

“I know, I know.” He staggered to his feet, half sobbing. “Just help me…”

Quinn couldn’t work up any pity for him. “You’re a son of a bitch, Steve. You switched my prescription ibuprofen for some kind of antidepressant. You knew Alicia would react-”

“I didn’t make the switch. I just told them about her reaction. If it’d been me-I never would have left any pills behind after she died.”

“It was you in my cottage-”

“They wanted to know what she was up to-how much she knew about them.” His voice croaked, more blood dripping down his arm, the shirt sleeve red with blood. He seemed to be in genuine agony. “I told them nothing, only that she wasn’t spying on them. They wouldn’t believe me. I had to tell them about her reaction to antidepressants. I hoped it’d just give them room to maneuver. I thought the pills would make her weird, not suicidal.”

“She didn’t kill herself. You killed her.”

“Her shoulders hurt from kayaking.” He stopped, bending over as if he had a stomach cramp and couldn’t take another step. “She told me she found your old prescription.”

“And you told-who?”

“The Nazi. The SS guard. That’s what I call him. Travis Lubec.”

Lubec, Quinn remembered, had engineered his boss’s rescue in the Dominican Republic and was instrumental in converting Crawford’s Chesapeake Bay compound into Breakwater Security.

She thought of Huck, wondered how much he knew, how she could get this information to him. “Damn it, Steve. Why?”

“Quinn, I’m not like you. I’m weak.” He stood up straight, leveling a pistol at her. He must have had it tucked in his pants-Quinn hadn’t seen it. “I’m sorry, but Crawford’s guys have me by the short hairs.”

“Damn, Steve. Look what you’ve done…”

“Lattimore didn’t listen. I tried to warn him. They’ll either convert him or kill him as an example of their power and purity.”

“They’re true believers in their cause.”

“Oh, yeah. Big time. They’re going to save us from ourselves.”

Quinn nodded to the gun. “You don’t need to keep that pointed at me. I’ll do what you want me to do.”

He motioned halfheartedly for her to go ahead of him, onto a narrow footpath. “Just walk.”

The path wound through the buggy, marshy wetland, and Quinn hoped they’d startle a snake, and Steve would drop his gun. She thought of the ospreys and the gulls, soaring above the coastline, seeing everything.

She came to an abandoned hut.

The hut in Alicia’s pictures.

Quinn felt her throat catch. “Steve-what’s going on?”

He pushed open the door, but there was no sign of any crates. Any illegal weapons and explosives stored there when Alicia was alive had been moved out.

Travis Lubec stepped out of the hut with a sniper rifle, tapping Steve in the chest with it. “Nice work. Always can count on you to be a weasel.”

White-faced, bleeding, Steve turned to Quinn. “My gun’s empty. Lubec caught me searching your cottage. He’d have shot both of us if I didn’t cooperate.” He began to sob. “If it’d been just me, I’d have let him put a bullet in my head. I’m so sorry. I had no choice.”

Quinn reined in her fear and tilted her chin up, eyeing Steve coldly. She had one chance to get out of this-convince Lubec she was on his side, at least long enough to buy herself time. “Lubec’s right. You are a weasel. Even now, you’re hoping the feds saw us and will come to your rescue.” She shook her head. “But I took steps to prevent them from following me.” Nonsense, of course, but she hoped Lubec would be confused or thrown off enough by her act to give herself a chance to alert Huck or Diego. Diego and Kowalski were hopefully en route-Diego must have seen her in her kayak, at the buoy, and realized she’d found something.

Steve’s eyes widened. “What?”

Brazenly standing between the men, Quinn knew she couldn’t stand there and let Travis Lubec shoot even a coward like Steve Eisenhardt in cold blood.

“How do you think Sharon Riccardi found the thugs to snatch Crawford off his boat in December?” Quinn asked.

Lubec stared at her. “What are you talking about?”

“I know-you must be confused. You weren’t in the loop. I helped Sharon. I have contacts all over the world. She needed expendable mercenaries-thugs-and I found them for her.” Quinn sighed, glancing at Steve, who was applying pressure to his injured upper arm with the palm of the opposite hand. Blood oozed between his fingers. She turned back to Lubec. “I’m not your enemy. I’m on your side. I’ve been working quietly, anonymously, on your behalf for months. Why do you think I left Justice? I needed the autonomy. I’m the one who told Steve about Alicia’s reaction to antidepressants.”

“Pills for the weak.”

“I agree.”

Lubec clearly wasn’t entirely convinced by her performance. “Who knows about you?”

“No one. I’ve been more subtle than that. I’ve covered my tracks. You want to know what I know, don’t you?” She narrowed her eyes on him and went still deep inside herself. “Then take me to Oliver Crawford. I tried to get to him at the party this afternoon, but I was interrupted. I’ve spent a lot of time and exerted a great deal of effort to lay the proper groundwork.”

“You’re one of us, huh?” Lubec pointed his rifle at her. “I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t care what you believe or don’t believe. You’re not going to kill me when you don’t know for certain whose side I’m on and whether or not I have information you need. And you’re not going to complicate our situation by killing Steve right now.”

Lubec rifle-butted him in the head and the gut, sending him down in a heap, and turned to Quinn, even as she pushed back her revulsion. “Let’s go.”

Vern Glover couldn’t stop moving. Huck kept up with him on the walkway to the converted barn. Glover had rattled the steering wheel all the way back from Quinn’s cottage, and now he was moving fast, agitated, on some kind of adrenaline rush. The party-goers and caterers had left Breakwater, an almost strange silence overtaking the sprawling property.

“Something’s going down, Vern,” Huck said. “I’m not stupid. I can tell. I want in.”

Vern shook his head, not slackening his pace. “It’s crazy. It’s too much, too soon.”

“What is, Vern?”

“Lubec licks Crawford’s boots. The guy’s rich, but he’s reckless-half-crazy.” Breaking his stride slightly, Glover glared at Huck. “Quote me, and I’ll kill you.”

“I don’t like recklessness. That’s what gets people killed.” Huck kept his tone calm, focused, knowing Vern would respond to self-control. “What about the Riccardis?”

“ Sharon ’s trying to run damage control. Joe, he’s in the dark. Like you.”

“I don’t want to stay in the dark. Can you get me in?”

Vern took a sharp breath. “I don’t know, Boone. I don’t trust anyone. The feds grabbed my best buddy right from under my nose. Some undercover fed fuck.”

At your service, Huck thought. “The feds don’t play by the rules. Any of them.”

“That girl who drowned was one of them.”

“A federal agent? I thought she was a lawyer-”