Night’s Landing

Thirty-One

Sarah loaded up a big wooden tray with glasses, a bowl of ice, a sugar pot, spoons and a pitcher of tea-regular tea, not tea punch-and carried it out to the porch. She abandoned the casserole. She wasn’t hungry. Whenever she was stressed out, she’d tackle one of her grandmother’s recipes. It wasn’t just the comfort food, it was the inevitable images that came with it of her grandmother chopping onions, rolling out biscuit dough, cutting ripe peaches-losing herself, perhaps, in the ordinariness, the simple necessity, of putting a meal on the table.

But Sarah couldn’t have concentrated on another recipe. Not now.

Joe Collins had called from New York. Again, her parents hadn’t made their flight. He’d sounded faintly annoyed, as if the Dunnemores might be sucking him into some kind of drama unrelated to his investigation. Clearly, he didn’t see what role a rich tax evader, even if he was a fugitive, could possibly have played in the shooting in Central Park.

Despite his obvious doubts, Collins had assured Sarah that the FBI was leaving no stone unturned and promised to call the minute he heard anything.

Before his call, she’d found an inscription in her mother’s freshman yearbook from Nicholas Janssen, telling her he would miss her and appreciated her for being his friend. Sarah had looked him up on the Internet and found the same picture Conroy Fontaine had-a wanted poster on the FBI Web site. But Janssen was just a tax evader, if a very wealthy one. He’d made his money in real estate and had homes in Virginia and south Florida. He was divorced with no children, the only child of a northern Virginia pharmacist and a homemaker. He was just eighteen when his father died-it was the reason he’d had to drop out of college.

Sarah doubted her mother had done anything illegal in talking with this guy at the Rijksmuseum. That he also knew Wes Poe had set off alarm bells, but nothing explained what had happened to her parents.

Where were they?

Nate came out onto the front porch. He’d taken a call on the living room phone. Sarah knew he was doing his own checking, with sources he had within the Marshals Service. That was where he got his sketchy information on Ethan. But he’d just finished with another call, and from his obvious impatience, she suspected the news wasn’t good.

“Your pal Conroy needs to answer some questions. Looks like he might not be who he says he is. There’s a real Memphis reporter named Conroy Fontaine, but he’s sixty-four and just retired to Phoenix.”

“Maybe the Conroy we know is his son? Why don’t we just go over there and ask him?”

Nate leaned across the table and filled two glasses with ice, poured the tea, making his own attempt at normalcy, Sarah thought. She could see the butt of his gun under his open jacket. “I’m not leaving you here alone,” he said, “and I’m not taking you with me. Juliet’s flight got in almost two hours ago. She’ll be here soon.”

Having another armed deputy here would give him more room to maneuver. He handed Sarah a glass of tea, but she just stared at it. “I hope this all turns out to have nothing to do with what happened to you and Rob. It smells like politics and journalistic shenanigans to me. My mother-”

“Don’t jump ahead. We have no idea what your mother knew or didn’t know about Janssen, why he approached her at the museum-”

“Do you think he had anything to do with the murder of Ethan’s wife?”

“I’m not doing the thinking on this one, Sarah.”

Maybe not officially, she thought. She tried the tea. “I looked up Nicholas Janssen on the Internet. I’m sure you all have a thick file on him, but-” She’d known nothing about her mother’s former classmate. “His mother died over the winter while he was on the lam. It was unexpected-he couldn’t go home for her funeral. That had to be hard. I wonder if it’s part of the reason he sought out my mother. Maybe he was just lonely.”

“People don’t think things through when they take off.”

“I suppose if he’d been in prison serving his sentence-well, it can’t be easy to lose a parent under any circumstances.” She immediately regretted her words, remembering his own childhood loss of both parents. “Not that I’d know.”

But his attention wasn’t on her-she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her. He set his glass of tea back on the table and started for the steps, drawing his weapon. “Brooker! What’s going on?”

Sarah dropped her glass on the floor as she jumped up, tea splashing on her feet, ice cubes skittering under the chairs and tables. Nate charged down the porch steps.

Ethan was staggering past his cottage, soaking wet, half-drowned and in obvious pain.

He collapsed onto his knees in the grass.

Nate got to him first, Sarah just behind him.

Ethan was shivering from the chilly water and the cool breeze on his soaked clothes. Blood dripped from a swollen gash on the side of his head. “Fontaine’s got Longstreet. The only reason I’m alive is because she distracted him.” He was breathing hard, a thin stream of blood winding down his left temple and along his jaw. “She fell into me, pretended to faint. I went into the river. He dragged her off. I couldn’t-” He tried to get up. “I hit my head on my way over the bluff. There was nothing I could do.”

Nate helped him to his feet. “Did you see which way they went?”

“Into the woods between here and the Poe house.”

That left hundreds of acres in which to hide. Sarah pushed back a stab of fear, dread. “It was Conroy? You’re sure?”

Ethan brushed angrily at blood that had trickled into his mouth. “The fucker thinks he’s the president’s brother or something. He killed two of Janssen’s men.”

Nate swore under his breath. “Where?”

“Poe house. Maybe an hour ago. Longstreet and I spotted the bodies-she was on her way back here to make sure you two were okay when Fontaine ambushed us.” His dark eyes settled on Nate. “She said they were the men who attacked her this morning.”

Sarah slipped in the grass, heading for the back door to the cottage. “I’ll get ice and the phone, call the police.”

“Wait,” Nate said.

But she was already inside and grabbed the portable phone, ran for the freezer. Her mind was racing. Janssen’s men? What did that mean? She pulled out an ice tray, hit the 9 for 911.

A hand came down hard over her mouth, a gun to her right temple. “Not a sound or I’ll kill you here on the spot. Understood?”

She nodded, but the hand and the gun stayed in place. There was nothing charming about Conroy Fontaine now.

He kept the gun on her and dropped his hand from her mouth, but she didn’t scream, believed he’d kill her if she did. He wrapped his free arm around her middle and pushed her out the front door, moving fast, half dragging, half carrying her into the woods below the cottage, out of sight of Nate and Ethan.

“I warned you. I told you not to tell anyone.” Vines and brush slapped at her face and legs as he concealed them within the thick undergrowth. “I told you to wait. I told you if I could get to your brother, I could get to you. Did you think I was joking?”

“I-”

“Don’t talk! Now people will die because of you.”

Her parents. Rob. Juliet. Sarah didn’t breathe. It was as if she were in the treetops, watching what was taking place below her.

“You have one last chance to cooperate.” His voice was low, his face close to hers. “Do exactly as I say and your parents might yet live.”

Oh, God.

She landed hard back into reality.

Conroy Fontaine-whoever he was-had her parents.

“Juliet?”

“They have a chance. If you cooperate.”

“What do you want me to do?”

He didn’t answer, dragging her deeper into the woods, away from the river. He was obviously familiar with the woods, unintimidated by any thought of snakes, unworried about getting lost, stumbling into a sinkhole. He didn’t seem to care if Nate or Ethan followed him. But Sarah knew she had to buy them time to contact the authorities, figure out their options-for them to come after her. They had to know by now that Conroy had her.

He drew her down a rocky slope, then into a shallow cave within the hillside. He let her go, keeping the gun on her, and she pulled up her knees and leaned against the cool rock. The cave was head-high but only a few feet deep, damp, smelling of the earth, its limestone sides crumbling in places. Sarah had played here with Rob as kids.

And Conroy-whoever he was-had lived here.

She knew now who he was.

“You want me to help prove who you are,” she said.

“Money. I want money. The rest will come out. The truth.”

Sarah stared up at him. “You’re the boy Leola and Violet Poe talked about. Their Huck Finn.”

“They wouldn’t believe me when I told them that my mother was their boy’s mother. That we’re brothers.” He was sweating, panting. “They called her a liar.”

Sarah doubted they’d have been so blunt, not to what they’d obviously perceived as a troubled boy. “Times were different then. Leola and Violet did what they could to help you. I can, too, but my parents-”

“My man in Amsterdam has them.”

“What-”

“He won’t hurt them. He’s waiting for word from me.”

Sarah forced herself not to leap ahead. “And Juliet, where is she? Do you have her hidden in another cave?”

“That bitch.”

He touched his neck, coughing, and Sarah noticed a swollen, bloody wound, halfway between his jaw and collarbone. “You’ve been bitten, haven’t you? A cottonmouth got you. Conroy-”

“John Wesley.”

It was what the Poe sisters had always called Wes. “John Wesley, I can see the fang marks. You’re bleeding. The bite’s on your neck, above your heart. That’s not good if the snake released enough venom to harm you.”

“I’ve been bitten before, lots of times. There’s never been a problem.”

“There is this time.” The snake had definitely released its venom, obviously enough to harm him. Sarah knew the signs. The area around the wound was swelling, his mouth and eyes were twitching visibly, and he was perspiring heavily. “Do your face and scalp tingle, feel numb? Your toes? You’re dizzy, aren’t you? I’m guessing it’s been over an hour since you were bit.”

He screwed up his face as if he couldn’t think, couldn’t control what his body was doing to him. “Don’t try to distract me.”

“I’m not lying to you. I don’t want you to die before you tell me where my parents are, where you stashed Juliet. John Wesley, listen to me. You need to stay still to keep the venom from spreading, and you need to get medical attention.”

“I’ll find some ice-”

“No. Ice isn’t good. Did you cut yourself near the incision?” She squinted up at him and suspected he had. “That’s a myth-it only helps the venom spread. I have an antivenom kit at the house. It can suck out the venom.”

“No, we’re not going back there!”

“It probably wouldn’t do you any good, anyway, not at this point. You need medical treatment, a doctor. Your condition is going to get worse with time, not better.” She started to get to her feet, but he gave her a menacing look and waved his gun at her. “Please. Let me help you. It’s not too late.”

“I want you to call the president. My brother. Ask him for a pardon for Nicholas Janssen, his old classmate. He’ll do it.” Conroy’s eyes seem to bore through her. “He’ll do it for you.”

“A pardon? My God, is that what this is all about?”

“It’s about five million dollars.”

And recognition, Sarah thought. He wanted people to know he was the president’s brother. “Nicholas Janssen is going to pay you five million dollars for a pardon?” Sarah was stunned at the insanity of what he wanted. “Conroy-John Wesley-Wes would never agree to pardon anyone under these conditions.”

“Then your parents die. Juliet dies. Your brother. I can get to him, too. I’ll ruin his reputation, blame his negligence for the shooting.”

“ Central Park -that was your doing?” She tried to keep him talking, agitated. But not so much that he shot her.

“Your brother had put a call into the Memphis paper where the real Conroy Fontaine used to work. I needed more time before he figured out I wasn’t who I said I was.” He smiled raggedly. “And I know you, Sarah. I’ve studied you. You wouldn’t talk to the president just because I asked nicely. I had to pressure you, scare you badly enough that you’d cooperate.”

“The letter. The snake in the kitchen-”

“I’m glad you saved it. I saw you.”

His words hit her hard. Rob was suffering in part because this man wanted to pressure her-wanted her to use her influence with the president. She wrapped her arms around her knees, trying to keep herself from shivering. “You wanted Rob out of commission and me scared and off balance. Well, you’ve succeeded. What about Nate? Hector Sanchez?”

“I told Hector all he had to do was sit in Central Park with a gun and then disappear. It was so easy. I knew he’d be spotted, there’d be witnesses.”

“What did you do, hide nearby and do the shooting yourself?”

“I was a yard away from Hector. He never even saw me. No one did. And I didn’t leave a trace for the feds. I’m that good.” He tried to catch his breath, but the snake venom was making him pant. He glanced around the small cave. “It’s because I grew up here. I know how to hide. People never believed Leola and Violet when they said they saw me out here because I never left a trail. It was like I didn’t exist. I’ve used that to my advantage.”

Sarah’s teeth were chattering now. Nerves, fear. It was damp in the cave, but she wasn’t cold. “Did you give Hector the drug overdose?”

“That was the easiest part of all. He was an addict.”

“And Nate-”

“I meant to kill him. My aim was off. It would have been an easier shot if they’d stayed on the street. Your brother-” He shrugged, wiping his palm over his swollen, bloody snakebite. “I didn’t care one way or the other if he lived or died, so long as he wasn’t asking questions for a while. Dead or alive, I knew I could use him to motivate you to help me.”

“Did Nicholas Janssen send you?”

He scoffed. “No, he thinks he can get a pardon on his own by manipulating your mother. Fool. He wants to come home to northern Virginia and visit his mother’s grave. He’s pathetic.”

“His men-why did you kill them? Aren’t they on your side?” Sarah dropped her hands to her sides, leaning back against the cave wall, slowly edging to her feet. “Oh, I get it. Janssen didn’t know what you were up to. When he found out, he didn’t like it. Five million’s a lot of money if he thinks he can get a pardon free from my mother. You’re both crazy.”

“Janssen wants a pardon more than anything, but he put the hounds on me.”

“And when his hounds found out you were shooting federal officers in Central Park-” Sarah shook her head. “Your guy Janssen wouldn’t want that pinned on him. It’s a much worse crime than federal tax evasion.”

“His men would have killed you, too. Don’t think Nicholas Janssen is just your garden variety tax evader. He’ll pay me. I’ll blame your gardener for his men’s deaths-Janssen’ll have Ethan killed before the week’s out. He should have done it weeks ago.” Conroy was still panting, sweating from the snake venom coursing through his bloodstream. “The big dope wants to find his wife’s murderer.”

“How did you get mixed up with Janssen?”

“You,” he said simply. “I looked you up in Scotland to find a way to get the recognition I deserve. Then I went to Amsterdam. Your parents were there-I saw your mother meet with Nicholas Janssen. I saw her meet with Charlene Brooker. I put it all together.”

Sarah’s stomach twisted. “But-”

“Your mother’s old friend from college had Captain Brooker murdered because she was getting too close to uncovering his real crimes.”

Sarah couldn’t speak. She watched Fontaine unraveling before her, sweating, slurring his words. If he’d just keep talking long enough, he’d weaken, and she could do something-get his gun, tie him up. Or Nate could find her. They could get him medical attention and keep him alive so he could tell them where he had her parents stashed in Amsterdam.

“Talk to the president,” Conroy said weakly, passionately. “He’ll do anything for you. You know he will. No one can undo a presidential pardon. He has the sole right. It’s in the Constitution. He knows.”

“There’s a procedure.”

“He doesn’t have to follow it. Presidents pardon hundreds of people.”

“Conroy-John Wesley, there’s no way he’d pardon Nicholas Janssen just because I ask him.”

“Yes. He will. I know he will. So do you.”

She stood upright, the top of her head grazing the dirt and limestone ceiling of the cave. She couldn’t breathe. “You were there that day. With the snake. You saw.”

“Everything. You saved him, Sarah. You saved his life. He didn’t save you.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple. What happened that day isn’t what people believe happened.” Some of the friendly charm had returned to his voice, but he toppled back slightly, dizzy, undoubtedly, from the snakebite. He managed to keep his gun pointed at her. “Tell him about me. Tell him he has a brother. Once news of the pardon gets out, the press will be all over it. They’ll find out about me. I’ll be long gone, living in luxury, but the world will know who I am.”

Sarah forced herself not to let her thoughts leap ahead. “I’ll do as you ask. Just don’t harm Juliet or my parents.”

He seemed relieved. “All right, then. Go. Call the president. You have one hour.”

“What? Conroy-John Wesley, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to reach him in an hour!”

“An hour. If my man in Amsterdam doesn’t hear from me, he kills your parents and disappears.”

“You’re asking the impossible!”

“I’ll contact you. I’ll know when it’s done.” He smiled at her, as if she were a student he believed in who was having a crisis of confidence. “Trust me. President Poe will grant the pardon if you ask him. Don’t delay. Deputy Longstreet won’t last more than an hour where she is.”

Without warning, he bolted, disappearing around the far edge of the cave. He was agile, fit, and he knew the land.

Sarah crept gingerly out of the cave. She couldn’t hear him moving through the woods. A squirrel chattered at her from the branch of a cedar tree.

She had to find Nate, Ethan, get the police here, sort out what of Conroy’s story and demands was real, what was bluff-what was pure fantasy. She made her way through the woods toward the river and the path that led between her family home and the Poe house. Conroy-John Wesley-hadn’t shot her. He hadn’t beaten her up. Physically, she was fine.

You can do this.

She didn’t dare call out and risk Conroy hearing her, deciding she wasn’t cooperating. How could he have her parents? He was a loner-that was what had so worried Leola and Violet, the idea of a teenage boy out here living on his own, alone. Who could he have working for him in Amsterdam? Was he bluffing about having her parents?

Sarah stumbled on an exposed tree root but managed to keep her footing.

The snakebite would kill Conroy. She wasn’t sure if he had an hour. He had to get medical attention.

She pushed back the thoughts and kept moving toward the river, finally reaching the main path. She felt a burst of relief and started to run.

But she heard something and stopped, listening.

A mockingbird. More squirrels.

And something else. A muffled cry-or her imagination, turning the normal sounds of the woods into a human cry.

She was at the junction of the main trail that ran along the top of the bluff and a steep, narrow path, barely a foot wide, that curved down to a cave worn into the limestone above the river.

It had to be where Conroy had stashed Juliet.

Without hesitation, Sarah veered off onto the narrow path. One wrong move, and she’d be in the river. It was a vertical drop into the water, no real riverbank here. The path deteriorated into a foot-wide limestone ledge that led horizontally across the bluff to the cave, the same ledge where she’d come across Wes Poe that day with the snake.

The main path was twenty feet above her, the river twenty feet below her. If she fell, she didn’t know if she’d fare as well as Ethan had.

As she reached the mouth of the cave she heard the muffled yell again. The cave was only about four feet high and twelve feet wide, a dark, dank, claustrophobic slit in the limestone bluff. She and Rob used to like to sit on the edge and throw stones into the river, catch the occasional snake off guard and release it unharmed. But caves weren’t her favorite places.

With a quick intake of breath, she ducked and hurled herself inside.

Juliet Longstreet lay flat on the dirt and rock, in the shadows, her mouth gagged, her hands and feet bound.

Sarah scooted toward her. “You don’t have a bomb or something tied to you that’ll go off if I untie you?”

Juliet shook her head.

The bastard had used one of Ethan’s bandanna’s to gag her, so tightly the fabric cut into the sides of her mouth. Sarah carefully eased the gag down to her chin, until it hung loosely around Juliet’s neck. “Fucking snakes,” she spat. “Goddamn. There were two in here the size of Godzilla. I hate snakes. That bastard’s been bit. I hope it was a poisonous snake.”

“It was. I saw the bite. Are you okay? Were you bit?”

“I’m fine. Get these damn ropes off me, okay? Where’s Nate? He send you in here alone? What the hell’s the matter with him-”

“He’s with Ethan Brooker.”

“The gardener,” Juliet said sarcastically.

Sarah worked on the tight knots that bound Juliet’s wrists behind her. “Conroy thinks he’s the president’s brother. He used to live out here-he must have been a teenager at the time.”

“What, you two sit and chat awhile?”

The knots loosened slightly, but Sarah realized she wasn’t going to get them undone. She pulled and pushed on the rope, stretching it, noticing the marks on Juliet’s wrists that indicated she’d done the same. “He says he has my parents. He said you wouldn’t last here another hour-”

“I wouldn’t if another freaking snake slithered in here. Look, don’t be gentle, okay? Just get the fucking rope off me so I can go after this bastard.”

Using all her strength, Sarah clawed at the rope, felt it and her fingers digging into Juliet’s skin, but, finally, managed to get it below her thumb joints.

Juliet shook the last of the rope off and tackled the one on her feet. She was deathly pale, her lip swollen and bloody, her entire body shaking from pain and exertion. “What does this son of a bitch want?”

Sarah stemmed her rising sense of panic. “He wants me to get Nicholas Janssen a presidential pardon. He thinks Janssen will pay him five million dollars and the world will find out that he’s really the president’s brother.”

“Jesus Christ. The bite’ll slow him down.” Juliet freed her feet and gave a small, involuntary moan, then took a breath and turned to Sarah. “I’ll get him. I thought he was going to throw me in the river after he tied me up. I swear, I’d just as soon he did as be in here with the snakes.”

“Cottonmouths don’t nest the way you see in movies. When they’re born, they scatter. They’re very solitary.”

“Yeah.” She grinned feebly. “A solitary snake is plenty for me. Look, Fontaine let you go, right? He thinks you’re doing his bidding. You’re safe out there. So you go on, get to Nate, and fill him in. Otherwise, I’d have to stay and protect you, and I think we’ll all be better off if I go find this bastard.”

Sarah shook her head. “Juliet, listen to me. You’re in no condition-”

She crawled toward the mouth of the cave. “I’m never living this down. The guys at my apartment, this Brooker character, tied up and left to die in a goddamn cave.” She stuck her head out of the cave, into the sunlight, then rolled back. “Crap.”

“Is it Conroy?” Sarah asked, reaching for a loose rock, anything.

Juliet shook her head just as Ethan squatted at the mouth of the cave. “Nice little tea party you ladies are having, huh?”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Juliet said. “Brooker, I’ve got a job to do. How did you get here? Why aren’t you drowned?”

“I’m a good swimmer. I picked up Sarah’s trail. The law’s right behind me.”

“I am the law.”

“You don’t look it. You look like a pretty lady who’s had the shit kicked out of her.”

She groaned in disgust.

“Juliet, Ethan’s right.” Crouching under the cave’s low ceiling, Sarah crept toward them. “Not about patronizing you, but about your condition. Ethan, tell me you have a SWAT team out there and not just-”

“No SWAT guys yet. Just Winter.” He settled back against the cave wall, his eyes glassy in the dim light. He had to be in almost as much pain as Juliet. “I’m not going to be much good to him with my head beat in. It wasn’t one of my smoother dives into the damn river.” He managed a grin. “Guess I’ll stay here and keep you womenfolk safe.”

Sarah suspected he was deliberately annoying them to cut through the tension, but Juliet gritted her teeth. “God, you’re even more obnoxious when you’re injured.” But some of her initial energy surge was going out of her. “Concussion?”

He shrugged. “Probably. I hit my head when you pushed me off the cliff.”

“I didn’t push you. I should have.”

Nate peered into the cave. “Juliet, Sarah-you two okay?”

Juliet nodded, but Sarah scooted to the edge of the cave. “Fontaine has my parents. He’ll tell me where they are if I get Nicholas Janssen a presidential pardon. If I don’t-if he doesn’t get word to his guy in an hour-my parents will be killed. I have an hour.”

Nate touched her hand. “We’ll get him, Sarah. Just hold on.”

She ducked out of the cave and stood up on the narrow ledge, pushing back a wave of vertigo at the steep drop to the river. “Conroy’s been bit by a cottonmouth. He’s not going to last long.” She could feel her heart racing. “He might not even last the hour.”

“Listen to me-”

“I have to find him before he dies and try to get through to him that I-” She placed a hand on the limestone layers to help keep her balance. “What he’s asking of me can’t be done. It’s impossible.”

“He could be bluffing,” Juliet said from within the cave.

But Sarah couldn’t wait any longer and moved as quickly as she could along the ledge. Nate could do what he wanted. Knock her into the river, follow her or stay put. It didn’t matter. She was going after Conroy Fontaine, aka John Wesley Poe.

She heard Nate behind her and thought, he could also shoot her.

“Keep going,” he said close to her ear. “I don’t want to end up in the damn river.”

“I know you’re worried Conroy’s hidden somewhere with a sniper rifle, but he’s in no condition-and he wants my cooperation.”

“Sarah.”

She nodded. “I’m going.”

Juliet figured that every nerve, muscle, vein and artery-every damn cell in her body-had been stripped raw. “If I don’t get out of this cave,” she told Brooker, “I’m going to go buggy. I have a cell phone in my coat pocket. My hands are too numb-can you get it?”

“No problem, Deputy.”

He crept toward her, his clothes soaked, his head swollen and bruised. He had to have a concussion. But she could see the ripple of muscles in his arms, sensed his overwhelming masculinity and felt an urge to carve out her own authority. He reached into her pocket and retrieved her cell phone.

She licked her cut lip. “I should be pissed at you for being such a retro chauvinist, but right now, I feel like such crap that I’m going to let the ‘pretty lady’ stuff go.”

He grinned at her, not moving back from her as quickly as he could have. “That was worrying me, you know,” he said lightly, clicking on her cell phone. “ Battery looks good.”

“Any service out here?”

“Should be.”

She eyed him. “What are you, some kind of spook? Secret Service?”

But he didn’t answer, just handed her back her cell phone. She crawled out of the cave onto the narrow ledge, managing to sit with her legs dangling over the side. She stared at the readout screen but couldn’t make out the dial numbers. “My eyes aren’t working right. That bastard Fontaine-” She licked her lips again. “He smacked me on the back of the head before he left me in the cave. I think he knocked my eyeballs loose or something.”

Brooker moved in next to her. “What number you calling?”

Her head was throbbing. She struggled to remember the number Joe Collins had given her in the E.R., then recited it to Brooker. He dialed without a word and handed the phone back to her. “Winter talked to some FBI type on our way over here. He’s sending in the cavalry.”

Juliet had expected as much. One of the FBI agent’s flunkies answered. She told him to put on the big guy. She’d been smacked around one too many times today for anything approaching niceties.

Collins came on. “Where are you?”

“In a cave with snakes and some kind of spook who’s been playing the Dunnemore gardener. Listen to me. This Conroy Fontaine character had someone snatch the Dunnemores in Amsterdam. He says they’re his hostages.”

“We’re on it. We’ve got a team on the way to your location. Sit tight, will you?”

“I don’t have much choice. Nate and Sarah Dunnemore-”

Collins cut in again. “Winter says you found the guys who ambushed you this morning-dead.”

Juliet paused. “Don’t start with me, okay? I didn’t kill those men. Look, get word to the SWAT guys that Fontaine thinks he’s the president’s brother.”

“Jesus Christ,” Collins breathed.

“And he’s been bit by a cottonmouth. It’s bad. Sarah Dunnemore wants to find him before he dies.”

“Winter’s with her?”

“Yes.”

“All right. You know what to do.”

“Yeah. I’m getting out of this goddamn cave. Tell your guys I’ll meet them at the Poe house. That’s where the bodies are.”

She hung up and glanced at Ethan. “You’re armed?”

“Nine-millimeter Browning.”

“Not going to share, are you?”

He grinned. “Not a chance.”

She’d figured as much. “Well, are you game for getting out of here?”

“I had my fill of caves in Afghanistan. Let’s go.”

She grimaced at the river below her. “Fontaine told me the water’s forty feet deep here. Strong current. I’m not the best swimmer.”

“Relax.” Brooker grasped the rock at the top of the cave and pulled himself to his feet, glancing down at her with a wink. “It doesn’t matter if it’s forty feet deep. You can drown in six feet of water.”