Seeing that she noticed, he said, “I came around along the creek bank.”

Emily was bouncing up and down on her toes. Without taking his eyes off Honor, he fished a Tootsie Pop from the pocket of his jeans and handed it down to her. She didn’t even ask Honor’s permission before ripping off the purple wrapper.

“What do you say, Emily?”

“Thank you, Coburn. I love grape. Grape’s my favorite.”

Sourly, Honor thought that any flavor Coburn had brought her would have instantly become her favorite. She didn’t even ask permission to have the candy before lunch, but stuck the lollipop into her mouth.

Honor let it pass. “Why did you come by way of the creek? Where’s the car?”

“I left it back a piece. Someone could have found you. I didn’t want to drive into a trap.” He looked at her knowingly. “You thought I’d ditched you here, didn’t you?” Without saying more, he stepped off the boat and began walking toward the road.

Emily pulled the Tootsie Pop from her mouth and wailed, “Where’s he going?”

“Good grief, Emily, he’ll be right back.” Her daughter’s blind admiration for him was beginning to grate.

In only a few minutes he returned, driving a pickup truck, whose black paint job had been scoured gray by the salty Gulf air. It was several years old and boasted an LSU Tigers bumper sticker. It looked to Honor like hundreds of other black pickups that had suffered the effects of the corrosive coastal climate, boasting an LSU Tigers bumper sticker. Which she was sure was the very reason he’d stolen it.

He brought it to a stop near the boat, got out, and lifted several bags from the bed. “Give me a hand.” He passed the bags up to Honor and went back for more. After handing them up to her, he said, “I’m gonna hide the truck.”

“Why?”

“Somebody could shoot out the tires.”

She didn’t ask how he thought the three of them could make it to the truck on foot in the event of a shootout. Obviously he was more experienced than she in these matters.

By the time he came aboard and clumped down the steps, she’d made three peanut butter and banana sandwiches. She and Emily sat on one bunk, he on the other. Happily Emily asked, “Is this a picnic?”

“Sort of.” Honor leaned down to kiss her forehead, feeling apologetic for snapping at her earlier.

The sacks Coburn had carried in contained foods that were ready to eat and didn’t require refrigeration. He’d also brought a pack of bottled water, a battery-operated lantern, an aerosol can of insect repellent, wet wipes, and a squeeze bottle of hand sanitizer.

Once she’d been fed, Emily yawned. She protested when Honor suggested that she lie down and rest, but she was soon asleep.

Coburn helped himself to a package of cookies. “You worked wonders on the place.”

Honor looked across at him from where she sat fanning Emily with an outdated magazine she’d found in a drawer. “Are you being sarcastic?”

“No.”

After he’d left, she’d put the broom to use, sweeping trash from off the floor and cobwebs from every surface. She’d found a couple of sheets folded up in the storage box that formed the platform for one of the bunks. She’d taken them on deck to shake them out, then had spread them over the bunks. The sheets no longer had bugs or larvae in them, although they still smelled of mildew. They were, however, less objectionable than the stained bare mattresses.

“I didn’t venture into the head,” she admitted.

“Probably wise. I saw a couple of buckets on deck. I’ll fill them with creek water. You and Emily can use those.”

She was glad that troublesome subject had been addressed, but she moved away from discussing it further. “Now that we’ve got water, I can wipe down some of the surfaces we’re forced to touch.”

“Be stingy with the water.”

“I will.” Then she asked him the questions that had been plaguing her. “Were you able to reach your man? Hamilton?”

“I tried. Same woman answered. I demanded she put him on. She insisted that I was dead.”

“What do you make of that?”

He shrugged and bit into a cookie. “Hamilton doesn’t want to talk to me yet.”

“What do you make of that?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re not worried?”

“I don’t panic unless I have to. Wastes energy.”

She stored that for later rumination or discussion. “Did you check Fred’s cell phone for stored numbers?”

“There were none, which is what I expected. And only one call in his log, that last one to his brother. This phone was a throw-down.”

“A burner,” she said, remembering the term he’d used before.

“No records. Disposable. Virtually untraceable.”

“Like yours.”

“Saved for a rainy day. Anyway, my guess is that he used this phone to stay in contact with his brother and The Bookkeeper, and that he immediately erased numbers from the call log. If I ever get it into the hands of techies, they can tear into it and see if possibly there’s any intel to be had. But for right now, Fred’s phone isn’t of much help to us. All the same, I’ll keep the battery out of it.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t kept up with the technology, but I think there are experts who can locate a phone even if it’s turned off. All they need is the phone number. As long as there’s a battery in the phone, it’s transmitting a signal.”

“Is that true?”

He shrugged. “I’ve picked up buzz.”

“How long would it take? To locate a phone, I mean.”

“No idea. That’s not my area of expertise, but I’m not going to take any chances.”

Forty-eight hours ago, she wouldn’t have imagined herself having a conversation about intel and burners and such things. Nor would she have imagined a man like Coburn, who could eat Chips Ahoy at the same time he was discussing a man he’d killed only a few hours earlier.

She didn’t know quite what to make of Lee Coburn, and it was disturbing that she wanted to make anything of him at all.

Changing the subject, she asked, “Where’d you get the truck?”

“I got lucky. I spotted a rural mailbox with lots of mail in it, a dead giveaway that the residents are away. House sits way back off the road. The truck keys were hanging on a peg inside the back door. Just like at your house. I helped myself. Hopefully the owners will stay gone for at least a few more days and the truck won’t be reported stolen.”

“I assume you switched the license plates with another vehicle.”

“S.O.P.” Reading her blank look, he said, “Standard operating procedure. Remember that if you decide to pursue a life of crime.”

“I doubt that will happen.”

“So do I.”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for living on the edge.”

He gave her a slow once-over. “You may surprise yourself.” When his gaze reconnected with hers, it was hot and intense.

Uncomfortably, she looked away from it. “Did you buy or steal the groceries?”

“Bought.”

She remembered the money he’d been carrying in the pocket of the jeans. “You weren’t afraid of being identified?”

“The cap and sunglasses were in the console of the truck.”

“I recognized you in them.”

He chuckled. “They weren’t looking at me.”

“They?”

“I stopped at a bait shop out in the middle of nowhere. Slow day. No other customers in the place. Only the bottled-water delivery truck in the parking lot.”

She cast a glance at the twenty-four bottles encased in plastic. “You stole that off the truck?”

“Piece of cake. When I went into the store, the deliveryman was behind the counter with the cashier. His hand was inside her pants and his mouth was on her nipple. They had eyes only for each other. I grabbed my stuff, paid, and got out quick. They won’t remember me at all, only the interruption.”

Honor’s cheeks burned with embarrassment over the images he’d conjured. She wondered if the story was true, and even if it was, why had he painted such a vivid picture? To fluster her? Well, she was flustered, but if Coburn cared or noticed, he gave no indication of it as he checked his wristwatch.