Molly’s eyes darted toward the living room doorway. But she didn’t move a muscle.
“Do you girls really have to rush off like this?” Clay protested.
“A promise is a promise,” Des said, grinning at him. “Hey, would you like to come with us? It shouldn’t be hard to scare up an extra ticket.”
Clay shook his head at her regretfully. “Lady, I have been nothing but cooperative, know that?” He fished another cigarette out of his pack, looking around the cluttered table for a match. “Me and Hector both.”
“And I appreciate it, Mr. Mundy.”
“Is that right?” Clay got up out of his chair and got a book of matches in the drawer next to the sink, lazily lighting his cigarette. He tossed the matches back in the drawer, then yanked a Glock semiautomatic out of there and pointed it right at her. “So why are you treating me like a fool?”
Across the table, Molly let out a gasp.
“Let’s just take it easy now.” Des kept her voice low. “You’re scaring the child. Please put the gun down.”
“Not until I get some straight answers.” Clay’s manner had hardened. No more easygoing charmer. That particular act had left the building. “They haven’t hauled me in for questioning yet. Now why is that? I’m the obvious suspect. Hell, I’ve got a big red X on my back. And yet a whole day’s gone by and nobody has reinterviewed me. Or Hector. Not so much as a single follow-up inquiry. No search of the premises, nothing. I find that mighty damned peculiar. Don’t you find that peculiar?”
“Mr. Mundy, if you’ve got a lost tricycle then I’m your girl. But I’m not involved in the investigation of Professor Procter’s death. Now why don’t you just put that gun down, okay?”
“They think they’ve got something on me, don’t they?”
“Sir, I’m afraid I’m not following you.”
“He knows, Trooper Des,” Molly spoke up, her voice soft and quavery. “That I told you I was supposed to stay out of the root cellar or else. I-I didn’t want to tell, honest. But he made me. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”
“Don’t be, Molly.” Des’s eyes never leaving that Glock. “You’re going to be fine. Everything’s fine. Isn’t that right, Mr. Mundy?”
“Let me spell a little something out for you, lady,” Clay responded coldly, his jaw clenched tight. “I’ve been on my own ever since my tight-ass stepfather kicked me out of the house when I was fourteen. I live by my wits. Play by my own rules. And not once has the law ever touched me. For damned sure not some village Barney Fife with tits such as yourself. I haven’t spent a single night in lockup my whole life. Not anywhere. And I never will. Small spaces get to me, okay? I’d sooner die than get locked up in some cage. I will die if I have to-and take a few of you with me for good measure. That’s a promise. But so far it’s never come to that. Because I’m careful and smart and I know how to take care of business.”
“Your business being seamless gutters, I understand.”
“Don’t get cute with me,” he snarled. “Do you people actually think I don’t know when I’m under surveillance? I always know. I can smell you from a mile off. I’ll walk into a place, any place. For the sake of conversation, let’s say it’s McGee’s diner down Old Shore Road. Everybody looks up at me as I come through the door, checking me out. Everybody except for this one guy with muscles who’s sitting there over his coffee trying real hard not to look at me. That’s when I know it’s time to pick up and move on. Who thinks they’re on to me? Is it the FBI or the DEA? Tell me, damn it!”
“Sure, I can do that,” Des said. “If you’ll do something for me.”
“I’m the one holding the piece, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“And I’m the one who has the information you want.”
Clay narrowed his eyes at her shrewdly. “What do you want from me?”
“The truth about Professor Proctor’s death.”
“How would I know? I had nothing to do with it. I’m trying to keep a low profile here. You honestly think I’d murder a guy and bring the law down on me? I’d have to be pretty damned stupid.”
“Or just a hothead with a temper.”
“It wasn’t me who killed him.
“Liar mouth!” Molly cried out. “I heard you!”
Clay looked at her in annoyance. “What’s this now?”
“The night you beat up Daddy in the driveway. You said if you ever saw him around here again you’d cut him!”
“Well, I didn’t,” he insisted. “Wasn’t me.”
“And I’d like to believe you,” Des said, her eyes on that Glock. And her thoughts on the Sig stuffed in her rear waistband. “Do you know what sure would help convince me? If you’d let Molly go.”
“I’m not holding her,” he said easily. “We’re just hanging together.”
Des glanced over at the French doors that led out to the back deck. “You’re saying she could walk right out that door if she wanted to?”
“Absolutely. She just doesn’t want to.”
“Is that right, Molly?”
The girl sat frozen at the table. “I’m fine right here, Des.” Her voice barely a whisper.
“There, you see? She’s fine. We’re all fine. Now it’s your turn, lady.” Clay jabbed the air with the Glock. “Who thinks they’re on to me?”
“It’s a joint task force. And they don’t ‘think’ it-they’ve known it ever since you left Atlanta. They’re getting ready to shut down the entire Vargas drug trafficking operation.” Des shoved her heavy horn-rimmed glasses up her nose and said, “You just described yourself to me as someone smart.”
“So…?”
“So let’s say you have a big-league stash of ice down in that root cellar. If I were you I’d be trying to cut a sweetheart deal for myself right about now. Seriously, you are staring at a golden opportunity. Provide the Feds with detailed inside testimony and you’ll be out in no time. Hell, they might even put you in the witness protection program. I heard them talking about it last night.”
“Thanks for thinking of me. That’s mighty generous.” Clay kept the Glock trained right at her, giving her no opening to make a move. None. “But I’ll take my chances south of the border. It won’t be the first time Hector and me have had to disappear into the hills down there for a few months. That’s how we’ve kept our records so clean. We know how to go native. Pay the right people off. The Feds don’t. We’ll be clearing out tonight. And you’ll be helping us. You and Molly both. You’re going to be our exit visas.”
“Your hostages, you mean.”
“We’ll let you two go just as soon we cross the border. Then again
…” He grinned at Des wolfishly. “Life is full of surprises. By the time we get there you may feel like going native with me.”
“Dream on. If you want to hold me, fine. Why not let Molly go? You don’t need us both.”
“Not a chance. But maybe you’d like to see it for yourself.”
“See what?”
Clay gestured to the trapdoor in the floor. “What’s down there.”
“You want to show it to me?”
“Absolutely.” He groped around in the drawer behind him until his hand came out with a length of rope. “Put your hands behind you. Wrists together.”
Des didn’t budge, her mind racing. It was now or never if she was going to make a move for her Sig. But could she make it without endangering the girl? Or would she better off making a dive for his Glock? Yeah, that was it. Go for the Glock. Go for it. Go…
“Hands together now,” Clay barked impatiently.
As Des stood poised there, ready to spring at him, it dawned upon her that she did not like how the kitchen floor had suddenly started rolling back and forth. Or the way Clay Mundy’s face was swimming in and out of focus… Oh, no, not now! No, please… As she fought off the wave of dizziness, struggling to keep her wits, a cold splash of reality jarred her back to here and now: I have no time for this. Molly’s life is on the line. Blinking, she saw Clay clearly once again. Only now he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was over her shoulder at the living room doorway. And now she was hearing the creak of a floorboard-Hector coming up behind her.