Otis asked questions, even more soft-spoken out here, as if paying reverence to nature or to Jack.

“Why is the water so clear but it looks dirty, almost like weak tea?”

“The water’s clean. It’s stained from the tannin in the tree bark.” Jack gestured to the bank, where huge trees grew halfway in the water, their roots sticking up like gnarled fingers.

“The color’ll change depending on the depth of the water. Shallow is tea colored. A bit deeper, caramel. Deeper still, almost a cola. The deepest is black.”

Otis nodded like he finally understood. “I get it—that’s why it’s called Blackwater River.”

“Lots of creeks flow into Blackwater. We’re traveling several of them. Juniper, Coldwater. The first time my daddy brought me out here I knew it was the most fascinating and beautiful place I’d seen. I didn’t even mind when he started bringing me out and leaving me. Thought he was teaching me something.”

Otis was nodding. He had his back to Maggie and Tully as he rowed. Jack sat at the bow of the boat with his body turned sideways so he could glance back at his prisoners but also up ahead so he could direct Otis.

“This where he left you out all night?” Otis asked, gently, like he was coaxing a child.

“A couple miles back. Tied me to a tree. Left me for the night. Middle of summer. Mosquitoes were a bitch. There was a thunderstorm, too. Magnificent display of Florida lightning. I told you about Florida being famous for its lightning, haven’t I?”

“Most lightning strikes per year than anyplace else.”

Maggie watched the two men. It was as though Otis had heard this story many times and his nods and questions were just another part of the telling.

“But you weren’t scared,” Otis said.

Jack stared off into the fog and continued, “My daddy told me it’d make a man of me. Staying out there like that. Finding my own way home. Guess he was right because two days later I slit his throat. Cut him into pieces in his own shed using his tools.”

Maggie could only see Otis’s head bob again. With his hunched back to her, she couldn’t see his face. Jack’s expression remained unchanged. He didn’t flinch, didn’t break his gaze. And her panic started to claw around inside her.

Tully stirred. Had he been listening? He sat slumped against her, eyes closed. He was conscious but his breathing was labored. Once in a while he winced when the boat bumped against something.

Maggie had found a roll of paper towels on the floor of the boat, partially damp and water-stained. Surprisingly, Jack let her have the roll to stop Tully’s wound from bleeding, though she had no intention of pressing the musty-smelling paper against him. Instead, she pretended she was cleaning, her hand still smeared with Tully’s blood. It nagged at her that she couldn’t rip open his jacket and see how bad the wound was. She did know that if a major artery had been severed there would be much more blood. That was good news. Bad news was the longer it went unattended the more likely it would get infected.

But there was another reason Maggie wanted the paper towels. She had been drenching them with as much blood as she could from her hand and from Tully’s windbreaker. She wiped Trooper Campos’s blood and brain matter from her face and out of her hair. Jack didn’t seem to mind that she was preoccupied with cleaning herself and so he didn’t even notice that every time she stained a paper towel, she wadded it tightly in her fist and then dropped it into the water behind them. She only hoped that Creed might have a way to track them if she left a bloody trail.

CHAPTER 61

QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

The others were already gathered in the conference room by the time Gwen came rushing in. She was breathless and her pulse had been racing since she got off the phone with Agent Alonzo.

“Aren’t you supposed to be—” But Julia Racine stopped herself, then continued, “Somewhere else?”

“What do we know?” Gwen asked, ignoring the question.

Racine was the only one who knew about the biopsy but that was by default. The entire hour drive out to Quantico, Gwen had been frantic. She had thrown her clothes on and rushed out of the surgical suite before any of the nurses had noticed. Now, as she sat down and rolled her chair to the table edge, she saw that she had not paid close enough attention while getting dressed. Under her suit jacket she could see from the cuff of her blouse that she had put it on inside out. She pulled her jacket lapels together and scooted closer to the table.

“We haven’t heard from anyone,” Kunze told her. “That might mean only that the cell phone reception is not sufficient.”

Gwen tried to make eye contact with the director but he looked away, and she knew instantly that he didn’t believe a word he had just told her. He was worried, too.

“Tully sent a text message about two hours ago saying they had entered someplace called Blackwater River State Forest,” Agent Alonzo told her.

“The forest must have an office. Has anyone called? They could send someone to check.”

“There is an office, but it’s after hours.”

“What about emergencies?” Was she the only one frantic? How could they all be so calm? Otis had lied to her. He knew Jack. Was still in touch with him. Not only had Otis lied, he’d tricked her. He had tricked them all.

“I’ve called the Florida Highway Patrol. Two of their troopers are with Maggie and Tully,” Agent Alonzo said. But when he didn’t continue, Gwen knew why.

“And the Florida Highway Patrol hasn’t been able to get in touch with them either,” she said.

No one responded. Keith Ganza stared at a spot on the table. Kunze still wouldn’t look at her. Only Racine dared and there was a mixture of anger and sadness in her eyes, something Gwen did not want to see.

Alonzo’s phone rang and all of them startled. He checked the caller ID and immediately answered.

“Hello, Mr. Creed. This is Antonio Alonzo. You got my voice message.”

All of them leaned in, anxious but unable to hear the other side of the conversation. Gwen watched Alonzo’s face and watched his eyes dart then go wide. His jaw clamped tight. Kunze stood over him as Alonzo grabbed a notepad and started scribbling a list that Ryder Creed must have been dictating to him. Before the agent ended the call he said, “Give me a few minutes to arrange this and I’ll call you right back.”

He pushed his chair back and looked up at Kunze.

“Both troopers are dead at the scene,” Alonzo said.

Gwen heard a gasp and realized it had come from her.

“Demarcus is alive, with a bullet wound in his stomach. Maggie, Tully, and Otis—all three of them are gone. Mr. Creed gave me a list of things he needs. And he asked me to call the Coast Guard.”

“Does he know if Tully and Maggie are okay?” Racine asked the question when Gwen couldn’t find her voice.

Alonzo’s eyes dropped to the floor and she could see he was hoping no one would ask that question.

“Mr. Creed says it looks like at least one of them is bleeding.”

CHAPTER 62

When the rain came it did so in angry and relentless torrents. It pounded on the tin roof of the fishing cabin. Maggie could feel the vibration of the thunder through the floorboards and thin walls. The place smelled damp and moldy, but after being in the boat and watching the storm approach in flashes of lightning, the wooden structure felt solid against her back.

With the storm came darkness. Jack had instructed her and Tully to stay on an old, worn sofa in the corner farthest from the door. Streaks of lightning exploded outside the single-paned windows while thunder sent the glass rattling.