Cardamone’s other team was in Tallahassee. Tallahassee was two hours away by car, less than half that time by jet. The minute Cardamone knew about the safe house, the other team would be on its way to Indigo.
The wise choice would be for the team to set up and wait until the early hours of the morning, or at least until midnight, but Landry couldn’t count on that. With the weather as cover, they could just as easily come in and take them out quietly, then wait until dark to do the second half of the job: to make it look like a Congolese uprising. Landry couldn’t rule that scenario out. He had to plan for the possibility that they were two to three hours away at the latest.
It was even possible they could be here now.
Landry switched to the local channels to see if there was anything about the house on Sea Oats Lane. The only shows on were talk shows. The church fire in Tallahassee and the death of the vice president of the United States didn’t make a dent in the talk show lineup, apparently.
Landry had no idea where Michael Cardamone was in the space-time continuum. So he decided to act as if Cardamone’s other team was on their doorstep.
He made a check of the island, looking in the places he would hide his people if he’d been the team leader. Plenty of places to look. The island was a wonderland when it came to accessibility. It could be accessed by water almost all the way around, and by the causeway. There were secret passageways. Stables, boathouses, cabanas, lush vegetation. He couldn’t cover it all, but after the seventh or eighth hiding place, he sensed the team wasn’t here yet.
Then he went looking for Frank.
Frank sat at an umbrella table poolside. Riley was with him, dangling her legs in the pool.
If Landry was interrupting anything, it hadn’t really gotten started yet. Franklin and his daughter were like two distinct pods, separated by a small space.
As Landry approached, Riley glared at him. Her eyes were red from crying. Franklin, on the other hand, looked distracted, almost thoughtful.
“Franklin,” Landry said.
Franklin looked up. In another world. “What?”
“How many employees do you have right now? On the island.”
“Employees?”
Riley said, “Why don’t you go away?” She pulled her feet out of the pool, dripped her way across the tile, and reached awkwardly around to hug her father’s neck from behind. Landry thought she’d need a lot more practice.
Franklin didn’t seem to notice his grieving daughter was hugging him around the neck. “Employees?” he repeated.
“How many?”
Franklin closed his eyes, counting in his head. “Four, altogether. At the moment, because we hire out to a grounds crew. The maid, two kitchen help, and the senator’s attendant, Jason.”
That trued up with Landry’s own count. “Are they the only people here, other than the family?”
“Other than the senator, yes.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“They have to go.”
“Go? Why?”
“Never mind why. You need to get them off the island.”
“What will I tell them?”
“Tell them they have the day off. Tell them it’s a free day. You’re a good talker, Franklin. They’ll believe you.”
“Okay.”
“Now.”
Riley said, “Why don’t you leave us alone? Can’t you see we’re in mourning?”
Franklin patted her on the shoulder. “He’s trying to help us, puddin’.”
Landry said, “Round them up and get them off the island. The three of us will meet at the octagon house in ten minutes.”
“You can’t order my daddy around like this!”
“Franklin? Do it now.”
Franklin nodded, then walked to the golf cart. Riley dogged his steps, turning back twice to give Landry a furious glare and a few choice profanities. Franklin got into the golf cart and Riley shoved in beside him. She might as well have been a gnat for all the attention Franklin paid her.
Five minutes later, Landry watched through binoculars as the four employees trooped to their vehicles and drove out. Franklin had followed them to the edge of the island. He sat in the golf cart, watching as the cars filed across the narrow causeway and out past the empty gatehouse before turning on Cape San Blas Road.
Franklin started up the cart and made the U-turn. Abruptly, the cart jolted to a stop. Riley jumped out and ran out onto the road, waving her arms.
Landry saw what she was running at. An SUV had turned off Cape San Blas Road and was now bumping along the causeway.
“Mom, stop!” Zoe shouted. “Stop the car!”
As Kay hit the brakes, Zoe slithered out of her seat belt, shoved open the door, and ran out onto the causeway to meet her cousin.
They hugged. Riley was sobbing. Jolie could hear it even with the air-conditioning on and the windows rolled up.
Kay got out too, and Jolie followed suit. They all met halfway down the narrow road, the water lapping up on the rocks bordering the causeway. If Riley and Zoe had ever been in a fight, it was hard to believe it now. They were wrapped in each other’s arms, holding tight, Riley’s jagged sobs rending the air, Zoe saying over and over, “It’s all right, it’s all right.”
Kay with them, one hand holding on to the loop at the back of Zoe’s jeans.
A tableau. Jolie stood off to the side. She was the outsider, but that was okay. It reminded her what her job was.
A golf cart zipped up, and her uncle got out.
Jolie had never met him. She’d seen him on TV though, had watched him during the congressional hearings. He had been charged with criminal failure to report taxable income, although there had been more serious charges—bribery and tax fraud—that had been dismissed in favor of the one count. Mostly, she remembered, in answer to their questions, he’d said, “I don’t recall.”
He walked up but then hung back. Finally, he tapped Kay on the shoulder. “You have to go now.”
Kay looked at him, incredulous. “What are you talking about, Frank?”
“You have to go. You’ll have to go up to the gate and turn around. Why don’t you take Riley?”
“Riley?”
“She can go with you.”
“What are you talking about? We’re here because—”
“You have to go, Kay! Now!”
Kay seemed to grow in stature, and she was pretty tall to begin with. “I will not. Riley needs us. You need us.”
Riley and Zoe were walking toward the island, still hugging, Riley still crying, but she was talking in between sobs. Franklin Haddox looked in their direction. “Riley! Get over here right now!”
Kay shot a glance at Jolie, and Jolie understood exactly what it meant. Get in the car. She did. Kay climbed in, pulled the heavy door closed with a hard thump, belted herself in, and put the car in drive.
Franklin was yelling at the window. “Kay! Kay!”
She ignored him. He ran alongside, pounding on the door. “You have to go! You have to get out of here!”
She drove off the side and onto the rocks to get around the golf cart. The SUV canted sideways and the water lapped at the wheels, but they made it.
Franklin running after them. Pounding on the back window.
They reached the island.
Music filled the car—Kay’s ringtone. She answered but didn’t take her foot off the accelerator. They were almost even with the girls. Kay dropped the phone, thrust the car door open, and yelled, “Get in!”
“We’re not leaving!” Zoe shouted.
“Yeah, okay, we’re not leaving,” muttered Kay. Then she said into the phone, “Did you hear that, Franklin? We are not leaving—”
Kay turned to Jolie. “He hung up on me.”
Franklin was now even with Riley and Zoe. Riley was yelling at him. Zoe was showing her solidarity. Franklin was thumbing his cell phone, and he seemed to be pleading with the girls. It looked to Jolie as if he was alternately talking on his cell phone and to the girls.