© 2010

Lt. Kate Czaja and Fire Station 2, Charlotte County Fire and EMS, for allowing me to visit your firehouse and for answering my firefighter questions. You guys rock.

Katrina Gibson, for her help on firefighting in cold climates.

Ginny Czaja, for putting in a good word for me with her delightful daughter Kate.

Julia Roper, for assistance with Latin phrases. Gratias tibi ago.

Beth Miller and Rita Grindle, for their insight into the Jewish faith.

Sonie Lasker, for her help with the fight scenes.

Marc Conterato, for all things medical.

Danny Agan, for answering all my law enforcement protocol questions.

Robin Rue, for everything.

Kay Conterato, Terri Bolyard, and Jean Mason for all your support.

Cheryl Wilson and Betina Krahn for your insight and patience as I plotted this book.

As always, all mistakes are my own.

Minneapolis, Minnesota, Monday, September 20, 12:00 a.m.

They’d shown up. He had to admit he was surprised. He didn’t think they’d had the cojones, especially the girl. Of all of them, he hadn’t thought she’d follow through.

Four college kids, all dressed in black. Four college kids with way too much time. Two of them with way too much of their daddy’s money. If all went according to plan, a great deal of their daddy’s money would soon belong to him.

It was rule number one of his world-if people didn’t want to be blackmailed, they shouldn’t do bad things. Rule number two-if they did bad things, they should be smart enough not to get caught. The four college kids weren’t very smart.

From the cover of the trees the condo developer had taken such pains to preserve, he watched the four approach, while he filmed every step they took. Their faces were plainly visible in the moonlight, and although he’d bet their daddy’s money they believed they were being stealthy, they moved with enough noise to wake the dead.

“Wait.” One of the four stopped. His name was Joel, and of the three young men, he had been the most enthusiastic proponent of their plan. “Let’s think this through.”

Interesting. Conflict always added a little excitement. Unseen, he kept filming.

“No waiting,” the girl said. Her name was Mary, and she was a bitch. “We agreed. All of us, Joel. This condo has got to go. We have to send a message.”

“She’s right.” This from Eric, the so-called brains of the group. As if. “This is our one chance to make a difference to these wetlands. If we do nothing, this whole lake will be nothing but condos.” He turned to the large brute standing behind him. “The guard will be doing his outside sweep in two minutes. He’ll exit the building from the service door in the back. You know what to do. Come on, people. Let’s roll.”

The brute was Albert, pronounced without the t. French Canadian, he was at the university on a hockey scholarship. Right wing. Hell of a checker. Albert set off around the building, obediently. His research had revealed that Albert had been quite the juvenile delinquent, back in the day. He was quite certain Albert would know exactly what to do.

The show was about to begin. Hurry, he told himself, taking his second camera from his pack. This was his stationary camera and was attached to a small tripod which he stuck into the soft ground, positioning the lens just in time to capture Mary, Eric, and Joel entering a stairwell door on the east side of the condo.

The door had been propped open with a rock, probably by a construction worker who’d wanted to save a little time and effort. The best security system in the world could be neutralized by lazy workers. Apparently the College Four had done their homework and knew exactly which door would be open. Kudos to them.

Leaving his stationary camera running, he moved the way Albert had gone, arriving just as the guard exited, right on schedule. Five seconds later the guard lay unconscious on the ground. A satisfied Albert slid a small club back into his pocket.

All caught on my tape. Albert’s family was dirt poor, so there was no money now, but there was a good chance that Albert would someday have an NHL salary ending in lots of zeroes. I can wait. Eric and Joel both had daddies rich enough to fill his bank accounts for now. As for Mary’s daddy… some paybacks didn’t require a dollar sign.

Some paybacks are personal.

Within another minute, Mary emerged from the side entrance and joined Albert. Both stared up at the windows, waiting.

He waited with them, from a safe distance away. He saw the first wisps of smoke rise in the upper floors. Mary threw her fist in the air with a whispered, “Yes.”

Minutes later there was lots of smoke, on every floor. But the side door had not opened again. Mary took a step forward, the triumph on her face turned to concern, but Albert stopped her, his beefy hand closing around her arm.

“They’re still inside,” she said, yanking at her arm. “Let me go.”

Albert shook his head. “Give them another minute.”

And then the door burst open, both Eric and Joel gasping for breath. Mary and Albert ran to the wheezing boys, pulling them away from the building.

“Goddamn idiot,” Eric snarled, jerking in huge breaths. “You nearly got us killed.”

Joel fell to his knees, spasms of coughing shaking his body. He looked up, his eyes terrified, desperate. “She’ll die.”

Mary and Albert shared shocked looks. “Who will die?” Albert asked carefully.

Joel scrambled to his feet. “A girl. She’s trapped. We have to get her out.” He started to run. “Dammit,” he cried when Eric and Albert dragged him back. “Let me go.”

Mary grabbed Joel’s face. “There’s somebody in there?” She flashed a panicked glare at Eric. “You said nobody would be in there. You said it was safe.”

“Nobody’s supposed to be in there,” Eric gritted through clenched teeth. “Joel didn’t see anything. Let’s go before somebody sees the smoke and calls 911.”

“She’s in there,” Joel insisted, hysterical now. “I saw her. Look!”

As a group they looked up and he followed suit, pointing his lens upward as a collective gasp rose from the group. In that moment, he saw her, too. A girl, her fists banging on the window that had been designed to provide a view of the lake, not an escape. She was young, a teenager maybe, her mouth opened on a terrified cry they could not hear. Her fists pounded weakly now, her face pressed to the glass. Then her hands flattened against the window as she slid from their sight.

Joel gave a final, desperate yank. “She’s going to die. Don’t you care? Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Let me go. I’ve got to get her out.”

Mary grabbed his hair. “Stop it. You go back in there and you’ll both be dead.”

Joel was sobbing now. “Then call 911. Please. Dammit, please.”

“Listen to me,” Mary said, her voice low and urgent. “If we call 911, we all go to prison. Prison, Joel. That’s not going to happen. Stop this, right now.”

But Joel wasn’t listening. He thrashed, trying to escape their grip like a man possessed. Behind his head, Eric gave Albert a grim nod. Albert pulled the club from his pocket and a second later Joel collapsed, just as the guard had done.

“Let’s go,” Eric said tersely and he and Albert picked Joel up and carried him through the woods to where their car was parked.