'My cousin?' Faith asked from the doorway, equally dumbfounded. 'Really?'

Delores's mouth curved. 'Really. He's very sweet. He never came in, just sat out on my porch working on his computer all night, even though the mosquitoes ate him up. He said he'd come back tonight, but he didn't, and I got worried. He wasn't answering his cell phone. Then I turned on the news.'

'It got shot up,' Scarlett said. 'We didn't know you were worried or we would have called you. Unfortunately Marcus and I are headed out. We'll be back, but Faith's staying.'

Faith put her arm around Delores's shoulders. 'Come and meet everyone.'

'Oh no, that's all right. I'm not here to intrude. I was just so worried.'

'So is everyone here,' Faith said. 'And you're not intruding.' She gave Scarlett a look that was both hopeful and scared. 'Be careful.'

'Always.' She turned to Marcus. 'You ready?'

Jaw set, he nodded, even though his gut was an absolute mess. 'As I'll ever be.'

Isenberg stood up, her expression severe. 'This is not a suicide mission, Mr O'Bannion. If your lives are in danger, you fall back.'

Marcus said nothing. He wasn't about to give her a reason for canning the op, but he was not leaving Gayle in that cage.

Isenberg rolled her eyes. 'For God's sake.' She stuck her head out the door, looking into the hallway. 'Officer? I'll take it now.' An officer came into view holding a backpack, which Isenberg took, then shoved into Marcus's hands.

It was heavier than he'd expected. He unzipped it with a frown, his chest growing tight as he realized what the lieutenant had done. 'Thermal blanket, first aid kit, water, protein bars, and bolt cutters.' He looked at Scarlett. 'Collapsible, so they're easier to carry.'

Scarlett gave her boss a grateful smile. 'To free Gayle. Thank you, Lynda.'

'Just don't be stupid, Scarlett,' she snapped, but there was no heat behind her words. Only concern. 'One more thing. Agent Coppola is lead on this op. You report to her.'

Scarlett's grateful smile faded. 'Why?'

'Because you are emotionally invested,' Isenberg said. 'I want you both back alive. If Coppola says fall back, you'd sure as hell better say "yes, ma'am". Am I understood?'

Scarlett's nod was curt. 'Yes, ma'am.' She leaned up on her toes and pecked her father's cheek. 'See ya.'

Jonas tilted her chin, locking gazes. 'Your LT made the right call. You are invested.'

'I know,' she murmured. 'I don't have to like it.' She rocked back on her heels. 'Let's move out.'

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 10.28 P.M.

Ken drew a deep breath, keeping his cool despite the gun shoved in his back. His son's gun. He'd been in far tenser situations, but Sean had taken him by surprise and had the upper hand. 'I have to say,' he said mildly, 'that I always thought if either of you staged a coup, it would be your sister.'

'Surprise, surprise,' Sean said coldly, and shoved the barrel harder. 'Start walking. Slowly. Any sudden moves and I'll blow your fucking head off.'

Ken began walking, carefully evaluating his son's stride, his balance, his hold on the weapon. Despite his bravado, Sean had never been in the field, had no experience in these matters. The hand that held the gun trembled, and Sean walked a little too close. Ken had no doubt that he could disarm him easily, but he wanted to know what he was up to first.

He also wanted a clear path away from his son should the disarming not go as planned. So he decided to wait until they were outside before he made his move.

'Why?' Ken asked, putting a tremor in his voice.

'Just walk.'

'If it's the money, we can discuss this.'

Sean laughed. 'It's not the money. I've already taken it all back. Your offshore account has a zero balance.'

Ken stumbled a step, genuinely startled. No one knew about the account in the name of the alias he'd kept secret for years. 'You're lying.'

'Fine,' Sean said easily. 'I'm lying. Mr William J. Bosley.'

Shit, Ken thought, still holding on to his calm. Then Sean rattled off the number of Ken's bank account with a quiet chuckle and his gut turned to water. 'How?' he asked softly, waiting for Sean to make a wrong move or step.

'The same way I found out you were tracking us through our phones. I'm the IT guy. I control all the software, all the devices. Even the ones you believe are private.'

Ken had trusted him completely. Obviously he'd been very wrong. 'Why?'

'Why?' Sean sounded incredulous. 'Really?'

'I rarely ask questions to which I don't want answers,' Ken said sharply. 'Don't play games with me. I asked you why.'

'Because my mother did not run off with her yoga instructor,' Sean said, his voice harsh with venom. 'Because she did not abandon me, even though that's what you've told me for years. She didn't leave me voluntarily. You killed her.'

Well, fuck. 'How did you find out?' Ken asked, keeping his voice mildly curious.

'Reuben. He told me that you killed her and . . . disposed of her. That she was in that pit along with all of the others you've had killed over the years.' Sean's voice shook, but his hand clenched on the gun, steadying himself. 'You put my mother through that damn woodchipper.'

Sonofabitch. 'That's a lie,' Ken lied. 'Why would Reuben tell you such a thing?'

'Because I caught him on video with underage girls. More than two dozen times, all different girls,' he added bitterly. 'He was unwilling to go to jail for his perversions so he offered me a trade. The videos I'd taken for the video he'd taken. Of you, killing my mother.'

Shit. Goddamn that Reuben.

They were almost to the garage. He'd overpower Sean and . . . He considered his options. He would kill the kid. Once he'd gotten back the money Sean had stolen from him. But he needed Sean physically able to communicate with his voice or a pencil, either would do. Bottom line, he needed Sean to be able to give him passwords and account numbers.

He had a little time before O'Bannion arrived, so he had time to get Sean to spill his secrets. He'd use the same methods against Sean that he'd used against Demetrius.

'Reuben told me that she'd been working with the cops to turn us in,' Ken lied. Sean's mother had hated cops. She'd actually been planning to blackmail Ken and his entire team. 'But now I know you can't trust anything Reuben says. He's stolen money from me. Both he and Demetrius did.'

'No they didn't,' Sean said. 'I moved that money around. Took Joel forever to find the discrepancy. Joel lied to you too, by the way. There was money in his account too. He moved it elsewhere and is keeping it for himself.'

Ken looked over his shoulder, surprised again. 'You wanted me to kill Demetrius.'

Sean gave him a duh look. 'I sure as hell didn't want to have to do it myself. Demetrius was insane, especially when he was on the steroids.'

I tortured and killed Demetrius. Because of a lie. Well, no, he corrected himself. He'd killed him because he kept botching up the elimination of Marcus O'Bannion. That part was legit. But he wouldn't have tortured him for that. He would have made it a quick and painless shot to the head. 'Where is Reuben?' he demanded.

'That I don't know. I thought maybe you'd killed him too.'

'I didn't.'

'Too bad. Reuben needed killing. He was a train wreck.'

They were approaching the entrance to the garage. There were two steps down between the laundry room and the garage interior. That would be Ken's chance. If he fucked it up, he believed Sean would be capable of shooting him in the back.

Ken descended the first step, then . . . He whipped around, grabbing Sean's hand and jerking the barrel of the gun toward the concrete floor. At the same time he twisted Sean's wrist hard.

Sean grunted in pain and drove his elbow into Ken's throat. Ken gasped, but used the height difference against his son. Sean was still a step above him, so he grabbed at Sean's elbow as he fell backward, and both men went down.

Ken hit the concrete floor with a back-cracking thud, Sean falling on top of him. But while Ken's back hurt, he'd had far worse pain. Sean had not, and was now a quivering, shaking mess. In a split second, Ken had his son rolled to his back and had wrested the gun from his grip.

Taking no chances, he fired twice, shooting Sean in the knee and in the side. He'd hit none of his important organs, but had robbed him of his mobility. Sean screamed and clutched at empty air, because Ken was already on his feet, the gun pointed at those more vital organs.

'All right, son,' he said coldly. 'Let's talk passwords.'

Thirty-six.

Cincinnati, Ohio

Wednesday 5 August, 10.45 P.M.

'Almost there,' Scarlett said quietly. They were less than ten minutes from the site where Marcus would walk into a certain trap. She wanted to talk him out of it, but knew that she couldn't. If he left Gayle with that monster to save his own skin, he'd never forgive himself.

It was who he was and she accepted that.

'Would you have really done it?' he asked. 'Given up your badge?'

'I told my dad that if I were forced to choose, I'd choose you. I never said I'd give up my badge, but that's what it translates to. But you know, if it came down to that, I wouldn't want to stay, anyway. I'm a good cop. I have integrity. If I didn't believe in it, I wouldn't do it. If the department and I came to an impasse, I wouldn't be the one to yield.'

'I'm . . .' He stammered, flustered. 'Thank you.'

She smiled at him. 'If you want to thank me, call Deacon. He's late checking in. If I call, he'll yell at me.'

'Thirty seconds late,' Marcus said, 'but I'll call. For you.' He dialed Deacon's number and put him on speaker.

'Thirty seconds, people,' Deacon growled. 'That's all the late I was. But' his voice became lighter 'we have what you asked for. You want me to read it or send it?'

'Both. Send it to my phone,' Scarlett said. 'I'll pull over to look at it.'

'You're welcome, Detective Meanness,' Diesel said.

Scarlett grinned. 'Thank you, Diesel. I'm sorry I threatened you, but you deserved it.'

'I did,' Diesel agreed. 'And I have to admit, it was kind of hot.'

Scarlett started to scold him, then looked over at Marcus. He was nodding vigorously. 'Very hot,' he mouthed, and she swallowed her rebuke, giving Marcus a wink instead. Terrified for Gayle, he was holding on to his composure by a thread. If a little flirtation helped him, Scarlett could flow with it.

'I'm pulling over now,' she said, 'and, Diesel, you are going to forget we ever had this conversation.' By the time she'd stopped the car, the letter had arrived in her email inbox. She and Marcus huddled over her screen, studying the note while Deacon read it aloud.

When they'd finished, Scarlett frowned, completely disappointed. 'It's exactly as Gayle said. Dammit. Thanks anyway, guys,' she said into the phone's speaker. 'I was hoping.'

'Wait a minute,' Marcus said. 'Not so fast.' He expanded her phone's screen and glanced over at her with a smile of satisfaction. 'Look at the return address. That's not where the McCords lived. But it is about five miles from the entrance to the park where we're supposed to meet Sweeney.'

'Oh my God do you think . . . Could she have put Sweeney's return address on her letter?' Scarlett asked. 'Why would she? How would she even know it?'

'She did it so that we'd check it out,' Diesel said. 'I bet Leslie McCord realized her and her hubby's numbers were up and she wanted someone to know who'd done them in. As for how she knew the address . . . Maybe she'd visited, or even followed Sweeney after a meet. Anders took photos to cover himself. Maybe the McCords wanted a little insurance too.'

'But why not just tell you?' Deacon asked.

Scarlett got it. 'Because she was worried about what would happen to her, but Woody was trying to cut a deal with the prosecution. She didn't want any evidence floating around to indicate that her husband actually was guilty.' She let out a breath of air, 'So, let's rethink our plan. We have a little more than an hour now. It is entirely possible that we're wrong. If so, I want to be able to quickly punt back to plan A meeting Sweeney where he specified. To that end, we should leave at least Adam in place. We can call Kate to meet us at the address Leslie McCord left us. If we're wrong about Gayle being there, then Kate will be our backup.'

Adam Kimble had camped in that park and knew the layout, so they'd all agreed that he'd go ahead, scout out the area and find a tall tree with a good vantage point of the meeting place. Kate was a sharpshooter, so the base plan had been that she would accompany Adam, finding her own tree.

'Adam and Kate should be at the park by now,' Marcus said. 'Let's tell Kate to meet us at the McCord address.'

Scarlett nodded. 'Kate can be our lookout while we search the place for Gayle.'

'First priority is to get Gayle out, then find Sweeney,' Marcus said. 'I say we give ourselves until 11.30 to find Gayle. If not, I go to the meet as agreed, miked up so that you all can hear. If Kate can safely find a new tree in time, she should. Otherwise, she's Adam's backup on the ground.'

Once they had a visual lock on Gayle, they were to shoot Sweeney to injure, but not to kill. Not unless Sweeney did something stupid, like attempt a double-cross, and then all bets were off and Adam and Kate were to do whatever necessary to bring the bastard down.

Scarlett and Deacon were to remain far enough back so that their presence would go undetected. Unless, again, something went wrong with the trade, or Sweeney simply started shooting. Then they'd sweep in and, like Adam and Kate, do whatever needed to be done to stop him. Not allowing Sweeney to escape was the one thing they'd all agreed on. Either they brought him in alive or they took him down. Permanently.

Marcus gave Scarlett a frighteningly sober look as he added into the speaker phone, 'And, guys, if it comes down to saving only one of us, choose Gayle. Promise me.'

There was silence on the line. Scarlett's lips tightened. She wasn't entertaining that as a possibility. If she did, she'd crack and be utterly useless to everyone.