“ Central Park -that was your doing?” She tried to keep him talking, agitated. But not so much that he shot her.

“Your brother had put a call into the Memphis paper where the real Conroy Fontaine used to work. I needed more time before he figured out I wasn’t who I said I was.” He smiled raggedly. “And I know you, Sarah. I’ve studied you. You wouldn’t talk to the president just because I asked nicely. I had to pressure you, scare you badly enough that you’d cooperate.”

“The letter. The snake in the kitchen-”

“I’m glad you saved it. I saw you.”

His words hit her hard. Rob was suffering in part because this man wanted to pressure her-wanted her to use her influence with the president. She wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to keep herself from shivering. “You wanted Rob out of commission and me scared and off balance. Well, you’ve succeeded. What about Nate? Hector Sanchez?”

“I told Hector all he had to do was sit in Central Park with a gun and then disappear. It was so easy. I knew he’d be spotted, there’d be witnesses.”

“What did you do, hide nearby and do the shooting yourself?”

“I was a yard away from Hector. He never even saw me. No one did. And I didn’t leave a trace for the feds. I’m that good.” He tried to catch his breath, but the snake venom was making him pant. He glanced around the small cave. “It’s because I grew up here. I know how to hide. People never believed Leola and Violet when they said they saw me out here because I never left a trail. It was like I didn’t exist. I’ve used that to my advantage.”

Sarah’s teeth were chattering now. Nerves, fear. It was damp in the cave, but she wasn’t cold. “Did you give Hector the drug overdose?”

“That was the easiest part of all. He was an addict.”

“And Nate-”

“I meant to kill him. My aim was off. It would have been an easier shot if they’d stayed on the street. Your brother-” He shrugged, wiping his palm over his swollen, bloody snakebite. “I didn’t care one way or the other if he lived or died, so long as he wasn’t asking questions for a while. Dead or alive, I knew I could use him to motivate you to help me.”

“Did Nicholas Janssen send you?”

He scoffed. “No, he thinks he can get a pardon on his own by manipulating your mother. Fool. He wants to come home to northern Virginia and visit his mother’s grave. He’s pathetic.”

“His men-why did you kill them? Aren’t they on your side?” Sarah dropped her hands to her sides, leaning back against the cave wall, slowly edging to her feet. “Oh, I get it. Janssen didn’t know what you were up to. When he found out, he didn’t like it. Five million’s a lot of money if he thinks he can get a pardon free from my mother. You’re both crazy.”

“Janssen wants a pardon more than anything, but he put the hounds on me.”

“And when his hounds found out you were shooting federal officers in Central Park-” Sarah shook her head. “Your guy Janssen wouldn’t want that pinned on him. It’s a much worse crime than federal tax evasion.”

“His men would have killed you, too. Don’t think Nicholas Janssen is just your garden variety tax evader. He’ll pay me. I’ll blame your gardener for his men’s deaths-Janssen’ll have Ethan killed before the week’s out. He should have done it weeks ago.” Conroy was still panting, sweating from the snake venom coursing through his bloodstream. “The big dope wants to find his wife’s murderer.”

“How did you get mixed up with Janssen?”

“You,” he said simply. “I looked you up in Scotland to find a way to get the recognition I deserve. Then I went to Amsterdam. Your parents were there-I saw your mother meet with Nicholas Janssen. I saw her meet with Charlene Brooker. I put it all together.”

Sarah’s stomach twisted. “But-”

“Your mother’s old friend from college had Captain Brooker murdered because she was getting too close to uncovering his real crimes.”

Sarah couldn’t speak. She watched Fontaine unraveling before her, sweating, slurring his words. If he’d just keep talking long enough, he’d weaken, and she could do something-get his gun, tie him up. Or Nate could find her. They could get him medical attention and keep him alive so he could tell them where he had her parents stashed in Amsterdam.

“Talk to the president,” Conroy said weakly, passionately. “He’ll do anything for you. You know he will. No one can undo a presidential pardon. He has the sole right. It’s in the Constitution. He knows.”

“There’s a procedure.”

“He doesn’t have to follow it. Presidents pardon hundreds of people.”

“Conroy-John Wesley, there’s no way he’d pardon Nicholas Janssen just because I ask him.”

“Yes. He will. I know he will. So do you.”

She stood upright, the top of her head grazing the dirt and limestone ceiling of the cave. She couldn’t breathe. “You were there that day. With the snake. You saw.”

“Everything. You saved him, Sarah. You saved his life. He didn’t save you.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple. What happened that day isn’t what people believe happened.” Some of the friendly charm had returned to his voice, but he toppled back slightly, dizzy, undoubtedly, from the snakebite. He managed to keep his gun pointed at her. “Tell him about me. Tell him he has a brother. Once news of the pardon gets out, the press will be all over it. They’ll find out about me. I’ll be long gone, living in luxury, but the world will know who I am.”

Sarah forced herself not to let her thoughts leap ahead. “I’ll do as you ask. Just don’t harm Juliet or my parents.”

He seemed relieved. “All right, then. Go. Call the president. You have one hour.”

“What? Conroy-John Wesley, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to reach him in an hour!”

“An hour. If my man in Amsterdam doesn’t hear from me, he kills your parents and disappears.”

“You’re asking the impossible!”

“I’ll contact you. I’ll know when it’s done.” He smiled at her, as if she were a student he believed in who was having a crisis of confidence. “Trust me. President Poe will grant the pardon if you ask him. Don’t delay. Deputy Longstreet won’t last more than an hour where she is.”

Without warning, he bolted, disappearing around the far edge of the cave. He was agile, fit, and he knew the land.

Sarah crept gingerly out of the cave. She couldn’t hear him moving through the woods. A squirrel chattered at her from the branch of a cedar tree.

She had to find Nate, Ethan, get the police here, sort out what of Conroy’s story and demands was real, what was bluff-what was pure fantasy. She made her way through the woods toward the river and the path that led between her family home and the Poe house. Conroy-John Wesley-hadn’t shot her. He hadn’t beaten her up. Physically, she was fine.

You can do this.

She didn’t dare call out and risk Conroy hearing her, deciding she wasn’t cooperating. How could he have her parents? He was a loner-that was what had so worried Leola and Violet, the idea of a teenage boy out here living on his own, alone. Who could he have working for him in Amsterdam? Was he bluffing about having her parents?

Sarah stumbled on an exposed tree root but managed to keep her footing.

The snakebite would kill Conroy. She wasn’t sure if he had an hour. He had to get medical attention.

She pushed back the thoughts and kept moving toward the river, finally reaching the main path. She felt a burst of relief and started to run.

But she heard something and stopped, listening.

A mockingbird. More squirrels.

And something else. A muffled cry-or her imagination, turning the normal sounds of the woods into a human cry.

She was at the junction of the main trail that ran along the top of the bluff and a steep, narrow path, barely a foot wide, that curved down to a cave worn into the limestone above the river.

It had to be where Conroy had stashed Juliet.