Honor protested. “What if there’s an emergency at her fitness center? No one would know how to reach her.”

Tori waved off that concern. “It’s a building, you and Em are my family. Besides, it’s insured to the hilt.”

Finally, all the details that they could think of had been discussed, and it came time for Honor to part with Emily.

Struggling to keep her tears in check, Honor hugged her close, reminding herself that as heartwrenching as it was to let her go, it was the best thing she could do for her child. The risk of Emily’s becoming collateral damage if she stayed with her and Coburn was simply too great.

Honor was laying her own life on the line, but it was something she had to do for Eddie’s sake. And even more for her own.

Emily was too excited over the prospect of having time with her Aunt Tori to notice Honor’s emotion. “Are you and Coburn coming to the lake, too?”

“Maybe later. Right now, you’re going with Aunt Tori all by yourself. Just you! Like a big girl. Won’t that be fun?”

“Is this part of the ’venture?”

Honor tried to keep a brave face. “It’s the best part.”

“Sleeping on the boat was the best part,” Emily countered. “Can we sleep there again sometime? And maybe I could drive it.”

“We’ll see.”

“That’s what Coburn said, too, but I think he’ll let me.”

Leaning down to her, Honor said, “You need to be on your way. Give Mommy a kiss.”

Emily bussed Honor’s cheek enthusiastically, then held her arms up to Coburn. “Coburn. Kiss.”

He’d been acting as though on sentry, obviously ill at ease with being so exposed and impatient with the protracted farewell scene. Now his head snapped around and his gaze dropped to Emily.

“Kiss,” she repeated.

After a long, expectant moment, he bent down. Emily looped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Bye, Coburn.”

“Bye.” He stood up, pivoted quickly, and started walking quickly back toward the truck. “Hurry up,” he told Honor over his shoulder.

Emily scrambled into the backseat of the Mini Cooper. Honor wasn’t happy about her riding without her child seat, but Tori promised to drive with special care until she could stop and buy one.

When it came time for the two women to say goodbye, Tori eyed her warily. “You’re sure you’re doing the right thing?”

“I’m not at all sure. But I’ve got to do it anyway.”

Tori smiled ruefully. “You always were the Girl Scout.” She hugged Honor tightly. “I can’t even pretend to understand it all, but even I’m smart enough to realize that you’re trusting me with Emily’s life. I’d die before letting something bad happen to her.”

“I know you would. Thanks for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

The two friends shared a long look of unspoken trust, then Tori got into the Mini. As Honor closed the car door for her, Tori said through the open window, “I don’t care who or what Coburn is, I just hope you’re finally getting laid.”

Chapter 30

Clint Hamilton had been on the telephone for ten minutes with Tom VanAllen, who was giving him a full account of the morning’s events. He sounded reluctant, hesitant, and apologetic, which didn’t surprise Hamilton, because the upshot of the report was that Coburn had outfoxed and eluded the authorities again.

When VanAllen concluded, Hamilton thanked him absently, then remained silent for nearly a full minute while he absorbed and analyzed the new information. Finally he asked, “Any sign of a struggle aboard the boat?”

“I’m sending you some pictures by email. Our agent took interior and exterior shots. As you’ll see, it’s a shambles, but if you’re asking if they found fresh blood or anything like that, then no.”

“Coburn left the phone there, and it was on?”

“Deputy Crawford and I agree that he left it behind intentionally.”

“To draw everyone to the boat, while he was going the opposite direction.”

“Yes, sir.”

Hamilton had no doubt that had been Coburn’s intention. “The footprints. Did they indicate that Mrs. Gillette was being dragged from the boat? Heel skid marks, anything like that?”

“No, sir. In fact, Crawford has come right out and suggested that she’s not a hostage as originally believed.”

“I sense a furthermore.”

“Well, we’ve been given no indication that she’s attempted to escape from Coburn.”

“How could she without risking her child’s safety?”

“I understand, but, as Crawford pointed out, she obviously had access to her telephone, yet she didn’t use it to make any distress calls.”

Everything that Tom was saying lent even more credibility to what Hamilton had heard from the widow herself during their phone conversation yesterday. Forsaking law and order, trusted lifelong friends, and even her father-in-law, who by all accounts was her personal guard dog, Honor Gillette had allied herself with Lee Coburn.

“What about the tire tracks?”

“Their footprints led us right to them a couple hundred yards from the boat. The tread is clearly defined and has already been typed. The tires came as standard issue on several makes of Ford pickups, model years 2006 and 2007.”

“Jesus. That narrows it down to several thousand pickups in Louisiana alone.”

“It’s a daunting number of vehicles, yes, sir.”

“I’m sure the locals are running checks on stolen Ford pickups.”

“None reported so far.”

Not surprising. Coburn would have chosen his vehicle wisely.

“State agencies have ordered that every Ford truck of those model years be stopped and checked,” VanAllen was saying. “Meanwhile, Mr. Gillette is very concerned about his daughter-in-law and granddaughter. He came straight here from the shrimp boat and was—”

“Explain to me what he was doing there when the authorities arrived.”

VanAllen shared Deputy Crawford’s suspicion that Doral Hawkins and Stan Gillette had a direct pipeline into the Tambour P.D. “Crawford thinks they’ve got moles inside the sheriff’s office, too. Courthouse. Everywhere.”

“The good ol’ boy system,” Hamilton remarked.

“Yes, sir.” VanAllen continued by describing Stan Gillette’s state of mind. “He went ballistic over Crawford’s insinuation that his daughter-in-law was ‘in cahoots’—his words—with Coburn. He caused quite a scene in our lobby, insisted on seeing me personally, gave me an ass-chewing for not putting this ‘upstart deputy sheriff’ in his place. Said I was being derelict in my duties and that if his family wound up dead, their blood would be on my hands. Which,” he said around a sigh, “I know without his telling me.”

Hamilton considered his decision for several seconds, then said, “Tom, Mrs. Gillette and her little girl are in danger, but not from Coburn. He’s one of ours. He’s an agent.”

After a momentary pause, VanAllen said, “Crawford asked me point-blank if he was. I said no.”

“Where did he get the notion?”

“Rumor mill, he said.”

That was troubling. The rumor had to have originated in Tom VanAllen’s own office, based on the fishing Hamilton had done yesterday. Apparently his inquiries hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought. Shelving that issue for the moment, he gave Tom background information on Coburn.

“I recruited him straight out of the Marines and trained him personally. He’s one of the best undercover agents in the bureau. He always worked deep, but never as deep as he did at Marset’s company.

“He took Mrs. Gillette and the little girl from their home for their own protection. I spoke with her on the phone yesterday. Neither she nor the child has suffered any harm from Coburn. Nor will they. On that score, you can ease your mind.” He paused, then said, “What you should be concerned about is the seepage of information out of your office.”