“Banged it on impact. It’s fine. Did you get a car?”

She was still dazed by his sudden reappearance and confounded as to how she was going to deal with his fresh knowledge of the box and its contents. Her thoughts were darting helter-skelter, overwhelming her with calamitous implications. She willed them to slow down and concentrate on what he had asked her. In stops and starts, she explained the arrangements that had been made.

“Wilson’s not coming back?”

“No. He was as relieved to ditch me as I was to be ditched.” Her mind was beginning to clear, and with clarity came questions. “How did you know we were here?”

“You mentioned that Wilson was taking you to breakfast, and the lady running the admissions desk at the ER told me this is the only place open today. I drove over in Marlene White’s car, saw you through the window, parked, and waited to see what would happen. When Wilson left without you, and you didn’t return to the table, I hurried around back. Found the delivery door unlocked.”

“Very resourceful.”

“Determined.”

“Determined to chase me down? Why?”

“Why do you think? I want that number. I want to take another look, see what contraband I flew in here last night.”

“It’s not contraband. It’s blood samples.”

“Then what’s the harm in giving me the number?”

“It’s supposed to be kept airtight.”

“Good argument, just the right amount of logic, but I don’t believe you.”

She glared at him and remained silent.

“Okay, have it your way,” he said. “How long before the car man gets here?”

“Wilson estimated fifteen to twenty minutes, half of which have elapsed.”

He glanced behind him at the locked door. “Not long then before you’ll be missed,” he said, musing aloud.

“Missed? I won’t be missed at all, Mr. Mallett.”

“From here on, why don’t you call me Rye?”

“I’m happy to. Go to hell, Rye. But first get out of my way. I’m leaving. If you don’t allow me to leave, I’ll—”

She didn’t even have to finish before he raised his hands in surrender, stepped aside, and tilted his head toward the door. “You want to go, go.”

She looked toward the locked door, then back at him. “What’s the hitch?”

“No hitch. Bye-bye. Been nice knowing you.”

She stayed where she was. “Why the foreboding undertone?”

“Did it sound foreboding?”

“You know it did.”

He shrugged. “It’s just that if you leave with only a Ford dealer to protect you, who knows what they might do.”

“They? Who?”

“The two guys in the corner booth. Both dressed in black suits. One tall, Hispanic, hard body, handsome devil. The other smaller, hyper, pointy nose, and ears like a fox. Did you notice them?”

“They ordered apple pie with their Whole Hog breakfast. What have they got to do with me?”

“You tell me, Dr. O’Neal.”

“I’ve never seen them before in my life.”

“No? Well, I have. Know when? As I was leaving the sheriff’s office. Know where? They were sitting in a black, late-model Mercedes, parked across the street and almost out of sight behind a hardware store, like they were keeping an eye on the place, like they were waiting for somebody besides me to come out.”

His eyes scaled down from her face to the toes of her boots and up again. “As nice a prize as you would make, I don’t think they’re after your sweet self, so much as that box you’re welded to. More to the point, they’re after what’s in it.”

Of their own volition, her lips parted with alarm.

“Riiiight,” he said. “That weird pair were waiting for you, and you are going to tell me why, and you are going to tell me now.”

She raised her chin in defiance. “Or what?”

8:32 a.m.

Rye gave the small of Brynn’s back a nudge to get her across the threshold, followed her into the room, and closed the door with a solid thunk. He pressed the button on the doorknob and slid the chain lock into place. The curtains were drawn, but there was an inch-wide separation in the middle of the window. He overlapped the edges to close it.

The decor was standard mountain-cabin-in-the-woods à la the sixties. The artwork on the knotty pine–paneled walls was reminiscent of the bear in Brady White’s office, the bedspread striped in earth tones, the lampshades made of burlap. In the bathroom, everything was tan and basic motel issue.

While he conducted his brief inspection of the layout, Brynn didn’t move from the spot where she’d taken root just inside the door. She said, “After a drive long enough to make me car sick—”

“Mountain roads. It’s not my fault they’re winding.”

“But I thought you were going to the airplane.”

“I thought so, too. Change of plan. Besides, it’s still too foggy to take pictures.”

“What are we doing here?”

He set his flight bag on the seat of a chair, then removed his bomber jacket and tossed it onto the bed. It landed with the lining side up. Brynn frowned with distaste.

“Don’t be so hard on her,” he said. “She’s kept me warm many a night.” He waited a beat, then added, “But since you’re here…” He left the suggestion hanging.

“Dream on. I’m not a pinup girl.”

His gaze lowered to her mouth, and then to her breasts, and when it reconnected with hers, he said, “You’d do.”

Suddenly they were no longer sparring. Those two words, and the raspiness with which he’d spoken them, had caused a seismic mood shift. Worse, both of them were aware of it.

To set things right again, he turned away from her and forced a light laugh. “Relax, Dr. O’Neal. I don’t have designs like that on you.”

“Answer my question.”

“I forgot what it was.” He sat down on the bed, pulled off one boot and let it drop, then the other.

“What are we doing here?”

“Oh, that. I’m waiting you out.”

“Waiting me out?”

“Until you give me the last number of the combination.”

“You don’t need it. You’ve seen inside.” She hefted the box by the handle.

He got up, wrested it from her, and set it on top of the dresser. “When I asked the first time what was in it, why didn’t you just say, ‘It’s four vitally important and time-sensitive blood samples that must be kept airtight’?”

He shook his head. “Instead, you acted squirrely. That’s Rawlins’s word, and, as bad as I hate to agree with him, it’s a perfect description. From the time you came sneaking out of the woods toward the plane, you’ve been disingenuous.”

“That’s a step up from dodgy and squirrely.”

He fixed a stare on her. “I’m not playing, Brynn. My reputation is on the line and so is Dash’s. Trust me on this, I’m not screwing around.”

“Neither am I.”

“Fair enough.” He pointed to the box. “Something’s inside the lining. Just like there’s a world map on the other side of that beauty.” He nodded down at his jacket. “If there’s nothing else in there, why didn’t you scream bloody murder when I hustled you out of that café?”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out before she quickly closed it.

“See, that’s what I thought,” he said. “You wanted to avoid those two guys because they worry you. You’re up to something, and I want to know what it is. I wish you’d tell me now and save us both time and hassle. And money. I’m out forty-five bucks for these charming accommodations. I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Nobody asked you to poke your nose in.”

“No, I wasn’t asked. I was obligated.”

“How so?”

“Whatever is in your precious box cost Dash an airplane and could have cost Brady White his life. So you had just as well take off your coat and get comfortable, because you’re not leaving this room until I know what’s so goddamn valuable.”

“My coat stays on.”

He made a suit-yourself gesture, then looked down at the box. “Who’d you steal it from?”

“I didn’t.”

“Says the career thief’s daughter. Is your old man in on it?”

“I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Marlene White heard he’d made parole.”

“I heard that, too.”

“You haven’t seen him since his release?”

“No.” He looked at her with skepticism. She repeated her no with emphasis and added, “He’s got nothing to do with this.”

“What is this? What’s the contraband? An explosive devise of some kind? It’s set to blow at a given time, and you don’t want to be around when it does. Is that why you’re in such a big hairy hurry to hand it off?”

“Are you insane?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“What about your cohort Dr. Lambert?”

“He’s a genius.”

“A genius who adheres to some radical credo—”

“No!”

“You’re right. A bomb doesn’t sound like him. Too militant. Too ballsy. Not scientific enough.” He stroked his chin as though considering. “You two are going to poison Atlanta’s water supply? Contaminate the CDC with a smart virus? Inject one into the hot dogs at Turner Field?”

She bent her head down and rubbed the space between her eyebrows.

“Am I warm?” he asked.

“Nowhere near.”

“Then open the box and show me what’s under the foam lining.”

“There’s nothing under there.”

“Then prove it. Let me see.”

“No.”

“Brynn—”