“All right, Chief.”

“Now, listen. The shooter is very likely a man named Trini Rodriguez.” She gave him a complete description. “He may be hanging out in the neighborhood, waiting for my witness to come home. He drives a red Ford Explorer sometimes.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for him.”

“He’s wanted for murder in Fort Lauderdale, and the FBI want him, too. He’ll be armed and extremely dangerous.”

“What is your witness’s name?”

“I’ll let you know about that when the witness is secure. Good-bye.” She hung up. “Step on it, Grant,” she said. “Don’t worry about getting a ticket.”

Grant stepped on it.

At the airport, Ginny was waiting beside a larger airplane than the one Holly had flown. “We’ll take the Saratoga,” she said, “since we’ve got so many people.”

Holly introduced Grant to Ginny and Ham.

Ham looked Grant up and down, then turned to Holly. “Are you two…?”

“Shut up, Ham, and get in the airplane.”

Holly was in the pilot’s seat, taking instruction, and she spotted the airport beacon, flashing green and white. “I have the airport,” she said.

“Good,” Ginny replied. “The automated weather tells us the wind is three-zero-zero at six knots, so we’re landing on runway thirty-two.”

“I see the runway lights,” Holly said.

“And which one is thirty-two?”

Holly looked at her compass. “The one going left and right.”

“Good. Now switch on your landing lights.” She pointed at the switch. “Make a normal approach, just like with the Warrior. This is a heavier airplane, and it will take more of a pull on the yoke when you flare. This is a night landing, and the thing about a night landing is that it feels as if you’re a little higher than you really are, so expect the gear to touch down sooner than you think.”

Holly announced her intentions on the radio and was cleared to land. She reduced speed, put down the landing gear, and followed the landing check, as Ginny read it to her from the checklist.

“You’re a little high and hot,” Ginny said, “but you’ve got plenty of runway. A little less throttle.”

Holly made the adjustment and landed a little harder than she’d expected to.

“That’s a night landing for you,” Ginny said.

Following Ginny’s instructions, Holly taxied to Dolphin Aviation and went through the shutdown checklist. When the propeller had stopped, a lineman chocked the nosewheel, and everybody got out.

“You a cop?” Ham asked Grant as they walked toward the Dolphin lobby.

“Nah,” Grant said.

“Then how come you’re packing?”

“Seemed like a good idea,” Grant said, grinning.

“Well, yeah,” Ham said.

Holly led the way into the lounge and looked around. Empty. The reception desk was unmanned. Holly unholstered her gun, and Grant and Ham followed suit.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” Ginny said, “and I’m not coming out until the shooting stops.” She headed off.

“Grant, will you check the pilot’s lounge, down that hallway? Ham, you come with me.” She led him through the front doors and out into the parking lot. “There,” she said, pointing at Marina’s little Ford. “That’s hers.”

The two approached the car with caution and checked the inside. The driver’s door was unlocked.

“Better check the trunk,” Ham said.

Holly found the trunk release and heard it pop open. She walked to the rear of the car, her heart in her mouth, lifted the trunk lid, and looked inside. A spare tire, nothing else. Holly looked around the lot for a red Explorer but didn’t see one.

“What do you think?” Ham asked.

“I don’t know what to think,” Holly said, heading back inside. She got out her cellphone and was dialing Marina’s number when Ginny came out of the ladies’ room with Marina following.

Holly walked over and hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” she said.

“Mama and Tía Rosita are not all right,” Marina replied.

“I’m so sorry, Marina.”

“It was Trini, wasn’t it?”

“Probably. How did he know where you were? Did you tell anyone?”

“It had to be Pedro,” she said. “He must have known more than I thought.”

Holly didn’t tell her that Pedro was dead, too. She was upset enough already. “I’m going to take you where you’ll be safe,” she said, “and my policemen will protect you.” She led Marina outside toward the Saratoga.

“An airplane?” Marina asked. “I’ve never flown in an airplane.”

“It’s fun,” Holly said. “Ginny is a great pilot. And I want you to meet my father, Ham, and my friend Grant.”

Marina solemnly shook hands with everyone.

Holly and Grant sat in the rear seats with Marina, and Ham sat in the copilot’s seat. Marina seemed nervous at first, but she soon relaxed and watched as the lights of the Sarasota-Bradenton area grew scarce, giving way to the lights of small towns and farms. She said nothing for the remainder of the flight.

Finally back at Grant’s house, they gave Marina some soup.

“Why did Trini do it?” Marina asked.

“Because he’s a mad-dog killer,” Holly replied. “The police and the FBI are looking for him everywhere right now, and they’ll find him soon.”

“I don’t have any clothes,” Marina said.

“We’ll get you some new ones tomorrow,” Holly replied. “You look tired; would you like to go to bed now?”

Marina nodded dumbly.

Holly led her to Grant’s spare bedroom and got her settled, then came back downstairs.

“What a beautiful girl,” Grant said.

“She’s had more than her share of heartbreak in the past week,” Holly said. “I don’t think she’s feeling very beautiful now.” She went to the phone and called the Sarasota police.

“Lieutenant Brower.”

“Lieutenant, it’s Holly Barker.”

“Hello, Chief. We’ve worked our crime scene; two dead, as you reported. Looks like executions; he used a nine-millimeter.”

“Any sightings of Rodriguez?”

“Not a thing. Where’s my witness?”

“Asleep. You can talk to her on the phone tomorrow, unless you’d like to come to Orchid Beach.”

“It’s a woman?”

“The daughter of one of your victims and the niece of the other.”

“You’re satisfied she had nothing to do with their deaths?”

“Yes. They went to Sarasota to hide from Rodriguez. Somehow he found them, but Marina was at the grocery store when the shootings took place.”

“I faxed the FBI in Miami the report, since you said they wanted Rodriguez, too.”

“That was the right thing to do. I’ll call you tomorrow morning, and you can talk to Marina Santos.”

“Thank you. Good night.”

Holly hung up and went to bed, happy to have Grant to sleep next to.

Holly took Marina to her office the following morning. She put her in Hurd Wallace’s empty office, called Lieutenant Brower in Sarasota, and put Marina on the phone with him. She gave instructions to check the dead Russian’s prints against the INS database, then faxed the photograph of his tattoo to Harry Crisp. Then she called in a policewoman, who was in civilian clothes, and gave her some money.

“I’ve got a witness in Hurd’s old office; her name is Marina Santos. I want you to take her out to the outlet mall and buy her enough clothes for four or five days.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the woman said.

“I want you to go armed. Someone is trying to kill her, and although he’s unlikely to look for her at the outlet mall, you should be alert.” She gave the officer Trini Rodriguez’s description. “It may not be him; he has friends.”

Holly introduced the two women and let them get on with their shopping trip.

Hurd Wallace, slightly itchy in his new uniform, drove slowly around the Blood Orchid property, taking in everything. Two houses were in the early stages of construction, and others were being renovated, with workmen going in and out. The golf courses were beautiful, he thought; he didn’t play golf, but maybe it was time to take up the game, since membership in the golf club was part of his compensation package. As he passed the ninth hole, he saw Ed Shine playing with a Hispanic man, who seemed never to have played before, and Ed waved him over.