“This is absurd!” Brynn exclaimed. She spun around to Nate. “You know this is a farce. You made the arrangements. Do something, say something.”
His eyes were cool, calculating. “At your urging, I agreed to fly with him, Brynn. But I don’t know anything about aviation rules and regulations. If he’s in violation of them, that’s hardly my fault.”
She stared at him, aghast. “In good conscience, you can’t let his happen, Nate.”
But apparently he could. Goliad motioned him toward the SUV. “The Hunts are waiting for you, Dr. Lambert.” Without an instant of hesitation, Nate strutted to the vehicle and climbed up into it.
Goliad took Brynn’s elbow. She jerked it free. “I’m not going.”
“The Hunts requested to see you,” Goliad said. “Specifically.”
“I don’t give a damn what the Hunts requested. Specifically. I’m not leaving until this matter is settled. Rye flew to this airstrip with the Hunts’ full knowledge, permission, and gratitude.”
The two deputies looked at each other, then came back to her. One said, “That’s not what we were told, miss.”
“Then they lied. Mr. Mallett didn’t do anything wrong.”
Goliad moved closer to her. “Maybe your father would vouch for him.”
The veiled threat, softly spoken, hit Brynn like a freight train. Her lips parted, but only a thread of breath escaped. No words.
Goliad added, “A deputy could be dispatched to pick him up. His parole officer would be notified, of course.” Through the slits of his swollen lids, his eyes were implacable.
She looked at Rye and made a gesture of helplessness.
“It’s okay. Go. I can take care of this.”
“But—”
“Don’t stick your neck out for me. I’ll be gone tomorrow anyway, remember?” To punctuate that, he put his sunglasses back on, blocking her from seeing into his eyes. Despite his softly spoken words as he buckled her seat belt, this was another shutdown, another goodbye.
Goliad took her arm again, and this time she didn’t have it within herself to resist. She got into the SUV. As Timmy scooted in beside her in the back seat, he said, “Ohhh. You gonna miss him?” He made smooching noises close to her ear.
She ignored his mockery. To respond, even with as little as a dirty look, would require energy she no longer had. Her fighting spirit had been drained dry.
4:17 p.m.
Rye would have fought tooth and nail to keep Brynn out of that SUV, if not for Goliad’s threat regarding Wes. Whether Brynn admitted it or not, she loved the scoundrel. She had looked stricken at the thought of him and his parole being placed in jeopardy.
Rye knew if he acted unmoved and detached, she would believe it. He could tell by her hurt expression that he’d been convincing. He would apologize later. First he had to get through to these deputies that he’d been set up and that Brynn’s situation was precarious.
As the SUV pulled away, he turned to them. “Have you talked to a Deputy Wilson or Rawlins? From Howardville? They’re up to speed on what’s really happening here. Dr. O’Neal may be in danger.”
“In danger from you. We know. That’s why the Howardville SO put out a BOLO on you two last night after you abducted her from a garage.”
“Abducted? No. Listen. A lot has happened since then. Brynn’s life was threatened today. That little guy, looks like a fox? He’s been holding her at knifepoint all afternoon. Lambert is in just as much danger, only he can’t see past his own ego. No love lost between him and me, but I’m afraid for him, too. I just didn’t let on now because—”
He broke off, realizing that, for all the reaction he was getting from them, he had just as well have been speaking a lost language. Neither appeared alarmed by what he was telling them. Neither had even blinked. That’s when it hit him: They were on Hunt’s under-the-table payroll.
If he implicated the senator in any wrongdoing, he would be taken straight to lockup. He would be denied even his one phone call. The lock on his cell would corrode before he was released. That’s why Goliad had said You’re over with such succinct confidence.
Rye scanned the horizon. No cavalry was coming over the hill. The pine tree–lined road intersecting the runway was empty. He was on his own.
One of the deputies went through the motions of being an honest cop and consulted his notes. “You’re not the registered owner of this plane, Mr. Mallett.”
“A buddy loaned it to me.”
“Did he? Because we called the owner. Jake Morton? He said, yeah, he let you charter it, but with reservations. Didn’t know much about you.”
“I told him not to…” Rye stopped himself.
“What?” The deputy moved in closer. “Told him not to what?”
Rye said nothing else. Jake hadn’t trusted these guys, either. He’d only done what Rye had advised, but that advice might very well hang him now.
“Did Mr. Morton know you planned to fly his plane, unauthorized, to a private landing strip belonging to a U.S. senator?”
“No. It was a rushed, last-minute change of plan. But it wasn’t ‘unauthorized.’ I believe the arrangements were made through Mrs. Hunt. Maybe she forgot to inform the senator.”
“Close as they are, I doubt that,” one of the deputies said. “Besides, it’s not like Mrs. Hunt to forget anything, much less something that threatens their personal security.”
Rye didn’t comment, afraid that whatever he said from this point would soon reach the ears of the Hunts, placing Brynn in even greater peril.
One of the deputies asked him if he was armed.
“No.”
“A Glock is registered to you. And you have a CHL.”
“Y’all have gathered all this intel on me in only a couple of hours? You’ve sure been industrious.”
“We feared for the senator’s safety.”
“You think I look scary? What about the two guys in the black suits?”
“The little guy is new, but we’re well acquainted with Goliad.”
“I’m sure you are.”
“Nice guy. Solid.”
“Hmm.” Solid as the kickbacks he doled out.
He was patted down despite his denial of being armed. One of the deputies said, “We’ll continue this conversation at the department annex.”
“I promised to return Jake’s plane tonight.”
“Sorry, that’s a promise you’ll have to break.”
“From here, the flight to the FBO where he hangars it will only take about twenty minutes. You can pick me up there.”
One snuffled a laugh. “We let you get back in that cockpit, what’s to keep you from taking off for Timbuktu?”
“Fuel capacity.”
The quip didn’t go over well. One of the deputies unsnapped his holster and curved his hand around the grip of his pistol. “Are you going to give us a hassle, Mr. Mallett?”
He raised his hands. “No hassle, but how about this? One of you flies over there with me.”
“And become your hostage?” Both scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
“No. Swear to God—”
“Hands behind your back.”
“Seriously? You’re really arresting me?”
One pulled out flex-cuffs. “You have the right—”
“Don’t do this. Please. I’ve got to be in Howardville tomorrow morning at nine sharp. I can’t miss that meeting, or I could lose my pilot’s license.”
“You should have thought of—”
“Wait a goddamn minute!” Rye shouted when one secured both his wrists behind his back. “I can’t leave my buddy’s plane unsecured.”
They ignored all his protests and finished reading him his rights as he was roughly escorted to their car and pushed into the back seat. “You’re making a terrible mistake.” The car door was slammed in his face.
They drove away from the landing strip. When they rounded the same bend in the road that Goliad’s SUV had taken a few minutes earlier, Rye got his first look at the Hunts’ mansion.
Sitting atop a hill, it looked as impregnable as a castle. The dense cloud cover had created a premature dusk, which had activated the strategically placed landscape lighting around the house, bathing it in an incandescent glow.