"He ought to be more ticked at Angela's murderer than me."

"You know Cutter will do right by her."

"Cutter thinks this is business as usual. It's not, d.a.m.n it."

"He thinks you're a loose cannon."

"Maybe I am."

"Your att.i.tude isn't helping."

"I'm not in this to rack up points."

"Good thing, because you're not."

Silence hissed over the line for an instant. "I need a favor."

Jake groaned. "I knew that was coming."

"I need to know what Angela was working on."

Jake swore, then noisily cleared his throat. "I'm sorry about what happened to her, man. She was a good agent."

"Yeah." Madrid closed his eyes, surprised by the powerful swipe of grief. He hadn't loved her for a long time, but there had always been something between them that neither time nor distance could dull. "Cutter won't talk to me."

"Neither should I if I want to keep my job."

"I need to know what she was into, Jake."

"Maybe you ought to let Cutter handle this the way he thinks it should be handled."

"I need to do this." Madrid tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, but he didn't quite succeed. "d.a.m.n it, don't stonewall me."

Jake sighed, but the sound was fraught with resignation. "I'll do some digging, see what I can find out."

"I need to know what Angela was doing in Lighthouse Point, California. I need to know if she'd been sending reports back."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Find out everything you can on the local PD here."

"They dirty?"

"Too early to tell, but I don't like how the dots are connecting."

"I'm liking this less and less."

"And dig up everything you can find on Jessica Atwood. She's originally from Phoenix. Recently divorced. She and Angela went to college together."

"Any particular reason why you're interested in Atwood?"

"She's in this up to her neck," Madrid said.

"Hope this is worth it."

"It will be."

"I'll call you tomorrow."

"I owe you, Vanderpol."

"You can bail my a.s.s out of the doghouse when Cutter relegates me to filing reports and answering the phone."

At that, Jake disconnected, leaving Madrid alone with his thoughts and the patter of rain against the roof.

JESS WOKE with her heart pounding hard against her ribs. She wasn't sure what had wakened her. The cottage was quiet. Dawn hadn't yet broken; the single window was still dark. She could hear the wind whipping around the eaves, the low rumble of thunder in the distance, the ping of rain against the roof.

Movement on the other side of the room sent her bolt upright. A scream hovered in her throat for an instant before she realized it was Nicolas. The little boy was at the window, rocking back and forth.

"Mah-mah," he said. "Mah-mah."

Sympathy washed over her with such force that for a moment Jess had to blink back tears. He looked so small and alone. He'd lost so much.

The need to hold him, rea.s.sure him, sent her from the bed. At his side she knelt and put her arm around his little shoulders. "Hi, sweetie. Are you okay?"

"Mah-mah. Mah-mah."

She brushed the hair away and kissed his forehead. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

Jess didn't know much about children, even less about children with special needs. He seemed agitated, but she didn't know why. She had no idea how to calm him. "It's going to be okay, kiddo."

"Mah-mah."

She tried to gently guide him back to the bed, hoping he would sleep, but he resisted. It was as if he didn't want to leave the window. "Mah-mah. Mah-mah."

"It's okay, sweetie."

"Mah-mah!"

"Honey, what's wrong?"

The bedroom door flew open. A yelp escaped her as she spun. Mike Madrid stood silhouetted in the doorway, a tall, menacing figure with a gun.

His eyes flicked from her to Nicolas and back to her. "Get dressed."

The tone of his voice snapped her out of her momentary stupor. "What is it?" she asked in a low voice.

"We've got company."

For an instant she was too shocked to speak. Then the fear took hold. "Who? How did they-"

"I don't know." Crossing to the window, he parted the curtains. "Are you strong enough to run?"

"I think so." She glanced at Nicolas. "I'm not so sure about him. He seems...upset."

"I'll take him." Madrid turned to her, pulled back the slide on the pistol. "I said get dressed. Now." He turned back to the window.

Jess grabbed her clothes off the chair next to the bed. She stepped into her jeans, dragged the sweatshirt over her head. She looked wildly around for her shoes, found them near the door and jammed her feet into them.

"Where are we-"

The window shattered. Gla.s.s pelted Madrid and tinkled to the floor. Rain and wind whipped the curtains into a frenzy. He reeled back, then dropped to a shooter's stance and fired off six rapid-fire shots.

"Take Nicolas out the front," he said over his shoulder. "Run down to the beach."

Darting across the room, she took the boy's hand. He was still rocking, whimpering like a hurt animal. Through the broken window she heard shouting. She glanced at Madrid, and a fresh wave of terror enveloped her. As if in slow motion she saw him raise the pistol and fire. Someone from outside returned fire.

He swung around, his face angry. "Run, d.a.m.n it! Go!"

Tightening her hold on Nicolas's hand, she sprinted toward the front door, flung it open. Rain and cold greeted her like a slap, but she barely noticed. All she cared about was getting the little boy to the relative safety of the beach.

"Come on, sweetie," she said as she took him across the deck and down the steep wooden stairs where the ocean pounded rock and sand.

She could feel the pain in her arm coming to life now, the throb keeping perfect time with the wild beat of her heart. But Jess didn't slow down.

When they reached the wide stretch of beach, the crash of the surf was deafening and salty spray dampened her clothes. The horizon was gray with the promise of dawn. She looked around, but didn't know which way to run.

Nicolas tugged her arm to the left. For an instant she debated, then went with him. The sand sucked at her shoes as she ran. The ocean roiled to her right; to her left jagged rocks jutted from the sand, offering the perfect cover for an ambush.

She was midway to a neighbor's wooden stairs when a man lunged at her from behind a rock. Jess screamed, swung around to run in the opposite direction. The gunshot that hit the sand less than a foot from them stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Stop right there or I swear I'll kill you both where you stand," said a guttural voice.

Dizzy with terror, Jess raised her hands to shoulder level and slowly turned to face the man. "What do you want?" she panted.

"I want you dead." His mouth twisted into an ugly smile as he leveled a deadly looking pistol on Nicolas. "Both of you."

"Don't hurt him," she cried. "He's just an innocent little boy."

The man looked about as sympathetic as a snake about to devour a mouse. With the gun never wavering from Nicolas, he tugged out his cell phone. "I got 'em. On the beach just south of the house." He paused. "Do you want to talk to them or do you want me to do them right here? Okay..." he said, and hung up.

Do them...

He's going to kill us, Jess thought, and her heart went wild in her chest.

The gunman's rodentlike eyes sought hers as he raised the pistol to her chest. "This ain't your lucky day," he said.

Chapter Four.

Jess couldn't believe her life was going to end this way. The only decision left was whether she was going to make a run for it and take a bullet in the back or put her arms around the frightened child at her side and wait for the killing shot.

"Please don't," she said.

Beside her, Nicolas gripped her leg, keening as he rocked back and forth. I'm sorry, Angela, she thought. In the back of her mind she wondered where Madrid was. If he'd been shot or perhaps already killed...

Dropping to her knees, Jess put her arms around the little boy and turned her back to the man. She closed her eyes and held Nicolas tightly against her. "It's going to be all right," she whispered.

But the lie broke her heart.

A wave crashed off to her right. The wind buffeted her. At some point the rain had soaked clean through to her skin. The precious last moments of her life...

A gunshot shattered her thoughts. Jess opened her eyes to see the man with the gun crumple to the sand. A second man descended the wooden steps at a rapid clip, a gun silhouetted in his hand.

With no time to think, she grabbed Nicolas's hand, lunged to her feet and pulled him into a dead run down the beach. "Run!" she screamed. "Faster!"

She tried to keep Nicolas close to the rocks for cover. The sand hindered her, but she plowed through.

"Jess!"

Somewhere in the back of her mind it registered that someone had called her name. But she was operating on pure terror and the primal will to survive. A glance over her shoulder told her the man was gaining on them.

Oh, dear G.o.d, he's going to catch us!

"Stop!"

She screamed when a heavy hand came down on her shoulder. Spinning in midstride, she let go of Nicolas's hand and shoved the boy away. "Run!"

Hoping the little boy understood, she faced her attacker and lashed out with her fists. "Get away from me!" she screamed.

The man took her down into the sand. "Easy! It's me. Madrid."

The cloak of terror lifted and Jess stopped fighting. Breathing hard, she looked up at the man on top of her. At some point she had begun to cry, huge choking sobs ripping from her throat. "He was going to-"

"He didn't." Madrid eased off her and went to his knees beside her in the sand. "Take it easy."

"He was going to kill us." Jess knew it was silly, considering she'd just cheated death, but she couldn't stop crying. "He was going to kill that innocent little boy."

"You're okay now." Madrid reached for her and they rose together.

"Where's Nicolas?"