She slid between Cole and Theo who had come over to join her. She squelched the desire to reach up and attempt to tame her unruly hair. She thought her pulse must be throbbing cartoon-style in her neck.

“You’re coming with me,” Dig said, all traces of the smile gone.

She wanted to smash her fist into that smug cleft chin of his, but she wanted even more to run.

“How did you find me?”

“That’s irrelevant. We have to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Diggory.”

“Yes, you are.” He sighed and turned to face down river toward the sea. His eyes narrowed. He wasn’t looking at her when he said, “It’s about your father, Riley. They sent me to get you.”

“What? Who sent you?”

He turned and looked at her with a face that asked her why she was even asking. “You know, State.”

“What are you talking about?” Her mind whirled with thoughts of her passport, her father’s dementia, the possibility of another terrorist attack somewhere in the world outside these small islands.

“He’s had a stroke, Riley.”

His words hit her like a physical blow and she took a short step back. “What? When?”

 His blue eyes seemed to sear into her, burning even more than her skin. “He’s asking for you. The doctors say it doesn’t look good.”

“But —” She wanted to say something intelligent that would make him be quiet, but she couldn’t find the words. She bit the insides of her cheeks when she felt her throat tighten. She’d be damned if she’d let any of them see her cry. Her father? But they said he’d live another ten years.

“Riley.” Cole put his arm around her shoulders as though he expected her to swoon. He steered her away from Dig. “If what he says is true, then I’m very sorry about your father. But you don’t know what’s true for the moment.” He glanced back over his shoulder, then turned back to face her. “Who is this guy?”

“It’s a long story, Cole.”

“It’s the guy from the photo, isn’t it? The one on the boat with the Brewsters.”

She nodded. She was looking for the pattern in all these connections: Dig, the Brewsters, her father, Michael, and now Cole Thatcher.

“How can you believe what this guy says?”

She couldn’t. She knew that. Dig was the most talented liar she’d ever known. But she couldn’t entirely not believe him, either. She’d been looking for an opportunity to get answers out of this man. So maybe this was it.

Diggory called out to her. “Phone him, Riley. Call your father’s townhouse.”

She went for her pocket, but remembered that everything, including her phone, was soaked. Her mind felt waterlogged, too.

She walked back over to Diggory. “Can I use your cell?”

“My battery’s dead. You can phone from the airport.”

“Dig, I don’t think I can get on a plane right now. I don’t even have my passport. I have to be in Pointe-à-Pitre on Monday for a hearing and I have —”

While she was talking, Diggory reached inside his jacket and produced a small blue folder with gold lettering that read U.S. Passport. He handed it to her. “I took care of it. Here.”

She opened the cover and saw the old photo taken before she left for her posting at Lima. She thumbed through the dozens of visas stamped in the back. It was hers. She looked up at him. “I don’t understand.”

“I have us booked on this afternoon’s American flight to San Juan. We’ll get into DC before midnight. Let’s go.”

She clutched her passport to her chest. “Diggory.” She wondered again if she knew who was playing for what team. She held up her passport. “How did you get this?”

“Riley, we don’t know how much more time your father has. We can talk about this on the way.”

She turned away from Dig and saw Cole’s green eyes fixed on her. She walked up and stood in front of him. “It’s my father,” she said, her voice soft.

Cole glanced over her shoulder, then took a deep breath and returned his eyes to hers. “Even if it’s true, Riley, you don’t have to go with him. I can get you to the airport.”

She saw the pain in his eyes.

Dig’s deep voice intruded. “The flight is overbooked already.” He coughed as though to clear his throat. “I had them bump two passengers to get us on. We miss this flight and the next one’s not until tomorrow and that might be too late.”

She mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.” She wanted to tell him she knew what she was doing. That she knew better than to trust Diggory Priest, but she hoped to find more answers down this path. Then she spoke aloud without turning to look at Dig. “What about them?” She pointed at Cole and Theo.

“They’re free to go,” Dig said. “They’ve nothing to do with this.”

She placed a hand on Cole’s shoulder. “Take care of my boat, okay? I have no idea when I’ll be back.”

He reached up, covered her hand with his. “Don’t go with him, Magee. Please.”

She gave his shoulder a squeeze and withdrew her hand. “The combination for the hatch padlock is 1996, the year she was built. I’ve got business cards on my chart table with my contact information. I’ll get a new phone in DC.”

“How do you know he isn’t lying to you?”

She glanced at the waiting taxi, and then turned to meet his gaze. “I don’t. But I’m not a fool, and I can take care of myself. I’ll call my father’s housekeeper before I get on the plane.” She leaned in and brushed her cheek against his for an air kiss. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered.

Diggory took her arm and led her to the minivan. He slid open the side door and Riley climbed inside without looking back.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Indian River, Dominica 

March 27, 2008

3:35 p.m.

The taxi van had long since disappeared from view, but Cole stood in the middle of the parking lot staring at the patch of road where he had last seen it.

“Sorry, mon,” Theo said.

“I can’t believe she left.”

“If you want, Zeke could drive us to the airport and you could try —”

“No,” he said, shuffling his feet in the dirt. He needed to move, to do something, anything. “It’s not like he kidnapped her. She made her decision. Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He was still carrying the soggy backpack, and he slung it off his shoulders and extended it to his friend. “Here,” he said as they walked toward Zeke’s van.

“I’ll take that.” It wasn’t Theo who answered him.

Cole spun around. Walking up the dirt embankment from a boat that was now tied to the wooden dock were Pinky and Spyder Brewster. Spyder’s T-shirt was caked with mud, and his yellow teeth flashed in a wide grin when he waved at them with the gun in his hand.

“What’s up, Doc,” he said.

“You look like hell, Spyder,” Cole said. “What happened to you?”

The grin faded when he looked down at his shirt. “Some old fart jumped us up river there.”

“Looks like he got in some pretty good licks.” As the two men got closer, Cole saw that one of Spyder’s eyes was swollen. Pinky, in his long white clothes, looked unscathed. “And it looks like your brother didn’t exactly jump in with his support. No surprise there.”

“Shut up about my brother. He don’t need to get dirty. He’s smart enough to bring a gun.” Spyder tried to brush some of the dried mud off the front of his shirt. “That dude knew karate or some shit. Fought pretty good for a old guy.”

Theo said, “You didn’t shoot him, did you?”

“Nah. Pinky might’ve winged him. Didn’t kill him, though. Dude disappeared into the jungle. He run off our boat and driver, but we stole another one from a bunch of foreigners.” He smiled wide and Cole could see the dark gap where one of the man’s upper eye teeth was missing.

Cole was tired. Tired of everything going wrong. Tired of these two idiots. He wanted to get back to his boat with this thing Theo was calling a cipher disk. “So what do you want, Spyder? Riley already left with your buddy there.”