Teddy thought he heard something and paused in the hall, deciding against slipping his.380 out of his ankle holster. He'd strapped it on before he'd slipped into the marsh at the crack of dawn. He had no permit-being a recently released felon, he couldn't legally own a firearm. Anyway, a gun would automatically complicate his just-here-to-check-on-Kyle story.

Maybe the wind had kicked up or it was just the old house creaking.

He listened another few seconds, heard nothing and retraced his steps back to McGrath's room. There was a backpack to go through. It'd only take a minute or two.

But there it was again, and this time Teddy realized it was coming from behind a door in the hall.

The goddamn attic.

Someone was up there? Hiding, sneaking around, doing nothing?

As far as he could see, there was no good reason for anyone to be up there. They'd have heard him call. So what was the deal?

Moving quickly, he snatched open the door.

The kid, Kyle Castellane, fell out on the floor, rolled onto his back and gulped in a breath as he stared in shock up at Teddy. "You!"

Teddy was no less surprised. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He jerked Kyle to his feet, his face bruised and swollen from last night's thrashing. He was scared. "Look, I don't want any trouble. Just let me go."

"Anyone else up there?"

"No."

"Side door's locked. You sneak in through the front?"

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

Even after last night, even as scared as he was, the kid had to be sullen and combative. Teddy bent the kid's arm around his back, taking it just to the point where Kyle would know another half inch and he'd be in a cast.

"We're going downstairs," Teddy said.

"Okay, yeah, just don't break my arm."

Teddy shoved the kid down the stairs, but they didn't get far. Detective Zoe was on the scene. Teddy hadn't heard her come in. She'd come almost two-thirds of the way up the stairs.

"What's going on?" Her voice was firm and calm, without a hint of fear. "Stop right there and explain."

Kyle sputtered. "Zoe, Jesus, thank God, this crazy son of a bitch-"

Teddy put pressure on the kid's arm, prompting a loud yell of pain. Zoe started to react, but Teddy shoved Kyle face-first down the stairs, forcing her to choose between helping to break the kid's fall or getting out of the way.

She chose to help. It was a long way for Kyle to go, and he was out of control-he could break his neck. He careened into her, and Zoe managed to pull him toward the wall and down onto the steps with her, instead of letting his momentum carry them both down the near-full flight of stairs.

Teddy had a split second's chance before she'd be able to untangle herself and go cop on him. He scrambled down the stairs, leaping over her and Kyle.

But Zoe was quick. She disengaged herself and charged downstairs after him. He glanced over his shoulder, saw she wasn't armed and decided it wasn't in his interest to stop and try out a story on her. She'd be calling the police. She wouldn't be listening.

In a maneuver he'd practiced on his own a hundred times, Teddy, still running, whipped the Llama out of his ankle holster, turned and fired over her head. She was a cop. She'd know he didn't mean to kill her, once she had time to think. Right now she dove, pulling a hardwood chair in front of her for cover-it was the best she could do with him right there, shooting.

The bullet shattered the glass front of the china cupboard.

Teddy kept running, making his way into the side entry. He wouldn't get down the driveway on foot. Zoe West was a runner-she had him in the fitness department.

But at least now she knew he had a gun, and that'd slow her down.

He spotted her keys on the kitchen table and didn't hesitate. He detoured into the kitchen, snatched the keys and ran back into the entry. Zoe was on her feet. He didn't take the time to wave his gun or shoot her-he charged outside and jumped into her little car, sticking the key in the ignition. His stupid hand was shaking. Jesus! He'd trained for this sort of moment. It was as near to combat as he'd ever gotten. Last night, beating up Kyle, didn't count. No guns. And when he was ar-rested-what a letdown. They'd put cuffs on him, read him his rights and walked him out the door.

He made it down the driveway, out onto Ocean Drive. He barreled up the side street and pulled in behind his truck.

He stared at his gun, his fingers stiff on its grip.

What had he just done?

"You shot at an ex-cop and stole her car, you stupid fuck."

The cops would be after him for sure now. Status quo, right. He'd upped the ante all by himself.

Teddy pushed that one out of his mind. He'd deal with Luke later. Right now he had to figure out transportation. Going any farther in Zoe's car would just invite more trouble.

He left the keys on the VW's dashboard as a way-late gesture of good will, returned the Llama to his ankle holster and climbed into his truck. He had a few minutes, anyway, before the whole goddamn state was after him. He needed to ditch his truck.

His heart was pounding. Damn, he was supposed to be keeping an eye on Zoe West, not shooting at her. She was hanging around with the freaking FBI. Great. Just great, Teddy thought. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on McGrath, too, not provoking him.

Hell. Talk about biting the hand that feeds. This wasn't maintaining the status quo. Luke'd be furious. Teddy figured he'd just totally screwed himself out of any chance at a bonus. Then again, who knew? He wasn't caught yet, and he still had guns, ammo and grenades.

Twenty-Four

Teddy Shelton had run off. Kyle had run off. A bullet had shattered the old glass in Olivia's china cupboard. Zoe, absorbing what had just happened, set the dining-room chair back on four legs. Her right shoulder ached from saving Kyle from a broken neck. Nice of him to stay and help her.

"Sorry, Zoe," he'd said as he'd run past her.

She could have thrown her chair at him, but there was glass all over the floor and she basically didn't trust herself not to kill the little bastard.

Only now did she notice the blood on her hand. She grimaced, realizing a shard of glass must have grazed her left wrist. The cut stung and was oozing blood, but it didn't look deep.

She cursed and gave the chair a kick.

When she'd entered the house through the side door and tossed her keys on the kitchen table, she immediately realized she had company. At first she assumed

J.B. had made it back before her. He'd gone down to the docks after lunch, and she'd stayed at the café to chat with her sister and some old friends after the lunch crowd had thinned out.

But she heard Kyle yell and charged upstairs-not the smartest choice she'd ever made. After that, she'd called upon her training as best she could to protect herself and her sister's idiot boyfriend.

In a hundred years, her great-aunt had never had a break-in.

Her hand throbbing now, Zoe stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed the phone, dialing 911 as she probably should have when she realized it wasn't J.B. in the house with her. She wasn't a cop anymore.

Kyle must have been terrified. He'd taken a thrashing from Teddy Shelton last night, too. Zoe couldn't blame Kyle for bolting. Fight or flight. He'd fled.

The dispatcher came on and asked her the nature of the emergency. As Zoe described the situation, she wrapped her hand in a dishcloth, blood soaking into it.

J.B.'s Jeep pulled into the driveway. She felt a rush of relief at having someone with her and, at the same time, renewed annoyance with herself for not having done a better job of handling the situation. Kyle was gone. The bad guy was gone. She was bleeding.