Luke came out of the trees on one side of the road as Chase emerged on the other. Silently, Chase pointed around to the back of the house and Luke followed the order. All was quiet until he got about five feet from the house, then he heard a low growl.

A bulldog struggled to stand, a low growl coming from its throat. The dog limped to the edge of the back porch, its teeth bared.

“We’re in position,” Chase’s voice murmured in his ear.

Luke carefully approached. “Easy, boy,” he said softly. The dog began to back up step by step, teeth still bared, but made no move to strike. “We’re ready, Chase.”

“Then move.”

Luke knocked the back door in, then gagged at the stench. “Oh my God.”

“GBI, freeze,” Chase ordered from the front door, but the cabin was empty.

Luke hit a light switch and immediately saw the source of the odor. Three fish lay on the kitchen counter, rotting. One looked like it had been in the process of being deboned. A long, thin filleting knife lay on the floor, covered in dried blood.

“Bedroom’s clear,” Talia called.

Chase looked at the fish, his mouth twisted in a grimace. “At least it’s not Borenson.”

“Looks like he got interrupted,” Luke said. “Somebody was looking for something.”

Drawers in the living room had been yanked, contents strewn. The sofa had been slashed, stuffing everywhere. Books had been pulled from the shelves. Pictures had been pulled from the walls, the glass shattered in the frames.

“Hey, Papa,” Talia called from the bedroom. “Come here.”

Luke winced. Blood covered the bed, soaking the linens. “That had to have hurt.”

Again, drawers were pulled, contents strewn. A framed photo lay in a pile of broken glass on the floor next to the bed. It was an old man holding a fly-fishing rod, standing next to a dog. “It’s the bulldog from outside,” Luke said, “and the old guy is Borenson.”

“Talia, stay with the crime lab,” Chase said. “We’ll fan out and see if Borenson’s been dumped anywhere around the cabin, then we’ll talk to the folks in town, see if anyone saw anything. The girls are not here, nor do they appear to have been here. We’re not back to square one, though. Somebody didn’t want Borenson to talk.”

A whimper had them looking down. The bulldog had lain down at Luke’s feet.

“What about the dog?” Talia asked wryly.

“Find him something to eat,” Luke said. “Then have the lab crate him and transport him back to Atlanta. Maybe he bit a suspect with those teeth.” Luke hesitated, then crouched to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “You’re a good boy,” he murmured. “Waiting for your master like that. She’s a good dog,” he corrected, then jumped when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

His heart quickened when he saw the caller ID. “Alex, what’s happened?”

“Daniel’s fine,” Alex said. “But three minutes ago they rushed Beardsley to ICU.”

“Beardsley’s in ICU,” he said to the others. “What happened? He was stable.”

“None of the medical staff are talking, but I’m standing here with Ryan’s father, who said they’d just changed his IV. A minute later he was convulsing.”

“Oh, hell,” Luke muttered. “You think he was poisoned?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said, “but his father said he’d remembered some things you’d want to know. His father said he called your cell, but got your voicemail.”

Luke’s jaw tightened. He’d fallen asleep in the car and missed the call. Dammit. “I’m ninety minutes away. I’m going to call Pete Haywood to come. He’s one of Chase’s.”

“I’ll wait with Daniel and keep an eye on Ryan Beardsley. Tell Agent Haywood he’ll want to take that IV bag in for testing. You should hurry back, Luke. Beardsley’s dad said he flatlined. They had to bring him back with the paddles.”

“I’ll be there.” He hung up. “Looks like someone tried to kill Ryan Beardsley.”

“In the hospital?” Chase asked incredulously.

“In the hospital,” Luke confirmed grimly. “I have to head back.”

“You two both go back,” Talia said. “I’ve got this covered and I’ll start looking for neighbors at daybreak. Don’t worry. We’re good here.”

“Thanks.” Luke started for the door and the dog followed at his heels. “Stay, girl,” he said firmly. The dog obeyed, although she quivered, ready to follow at a word.

“Yes,” Talia said, her tone longsuffering. “I’ll take care of the dog, too.”

Luke slumped in Chase’s car. “It just doesn’t stop.” He grimaced. “And I reek.”

“A little sweat, a little smoke, a little rotting fish. Chicks love it.”

Luke snorted a tired laugh. “No woman would come within a mile of me.” But Susannah had. She’d come within inches. If he concentrated, he could still remember how she’d smelled. Fresh. Sweet. Just leave it alone. “I’ll call Pete. We still have a guard on ICU. I’ll post a guard outside Bailey’s room, too. Dammit, I was hoping this was it. But it’s been ten hours and we still have no idea where those girls are.”

“Granville’s partner is still pulling the strings,” Chase said quietly.

Luke glared at the passing trees. “Well, I’m damn tired of being his puppet.”

Dutton, Saturday, February 3, 3:00 a.m.

“Tell me,” Charles said, his mild voice covering up a fury that was almost ready to explode. Still his hands were steady as he held a new scalpel Toby Granville had given him just last Christmas. It was important to have the best tools. “Tell me where it fits.”

Judge Borenson shook his head. “No.”

“You’re a stubborn old man. I’ll just have to start cutting deeper and perhaps cutting off things you might otherwise like to keep. I know the key fits a safe deposit box. And I know Toby hurt you pretty badly up at your cabin and you still wouldn’t talk. I’m prepared to do much worse.” Charles sliced a ribbon deep into Borenson’s abdomen as the judge cried out in pain. “Just the name of the bank and the name of the city. Box number would be nice, too.”

Borenson closed his eyes. “Bank of Hell. You’ll never find it.”

“That’s a sad attitude, Judge. I need that statement you prepared. You know, the one that could ruin us both if it falls into the wrong hands?”

“Like I give a shit.”

Charles’s lips thinned. “You like pain, Judge?”

Borenson moaned as the knife dug deeper, but he said no more.

Charles sighed. “At least I love my job. I wonder how long you’ll hold out.”

“Check your crystal ball,” Borenson said from between his teeth. “I’m not telling you.”

Charles laughed. “It says you’ll die by Sunday noon. And I’ll make sure my prediction comes true, just like I always do. Some might say I’m cheating, but I just call it strengthening the house advantage. You can die quickly and painlessly or very slowly. It’s your choice. Give me what I want and I’ll go away. So will you, but you knew that was going to happen as soon as either I or Arthur Vartanian died, didn’t you? You made a deal with the devil, Judge. Free lesson-the devil always wins.”

Atlanta , Saturday, February 3, 3:00 a.m.

Susannah got out of bed and turned on the light. Sleep would not come and she’d learned long ago not to fight it. She sat down at the desk and turned on her laptop.

She had briefs to write. Work to catch up on. But none of that seemed real tonight.

She thought of Luke Papadopoulos and wondered what he’d found in Borenson’s cabin. If he’d found the missing girls, he would have called her, of that she was sure.

She thought about the way he’d looked at her when he’d walked out the door tonight and a shiver ran down her back. He was a potent man. She was sure of that, too.

What she wasn’t so sure of was the way she felt about it.

But that wasn’t something she had to settle tonight. Tonight Luke was out there, doing something, while she sat, doing nothing. From her briefcase she pulled her cell phone and studied the photo she’d snapped of M. Jane Doe.