“Shut Rusty down,” Ledge said.

“We’re going to take everything to the attorney general’s office,” Arden told her. “All of it. Foster. Dwayne Hawkins.”

“The burglary,” Lisa said, looking resigned.

“I’m sorry,” Arden said. “But all this started with that.”

“It’s time I paid the piper for an egregious mistake.”

“You can’t be prosecuted.”

“No, only persecuted. Which,” she said, drawing a deep breath, “is no less than I deserve for being so stupid.”

“We’re both guilty of that,” Ledge said.

“Did Wallace know?” Arden asked.

“God, no,” Lisa said, looking horrified at the thought. “He put me on a pedestal. If he’d ever found out, I couldn’t have borne his disappointment in me.” She gave a wistful smile. “Before this goes public, I’ll resign my position at the firm to spare the board having to demand my resignation. Wallace left me a rich widow. I won’t suffer anything except the humiliation of having been a thief.” She turned toward Ledge and regarded him for a long moment. “You surprise me.”

“How’s that?”

“You didn’t break the pact.” She gave a terse laugh. “Honor among thieves?”

Before he could reply, his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket. “Hey, Don.” He listened, then said, “Oh, shit. Did she say—Wait, this could be a setup. Did you check the caller ID? You’re sure?” Then he hissed, “Son of a bitch. Yeah, yeah, I’m leaving now.” He looked at Arden, who was already on her feet. “She’s doing all right. Yes, yes, I will. I promise. Gotta go.” He clicked off.

“What?”

“A staffer at the memory center called the bar, asking for me. She talked to Don on behalf of George, who was on his way out of the building in a dead run, giving chase to some guy who pretended to be a friend of the family there to see Uncle Henry.”

Arden said, “I’ll come with you.”

“No.” His tone brooked no argument. “Not this time. You two stay together, but leave here as planned. Soon as you can get gone, go.” He looked over at Lisa.

As unflappable as always, she said, “I’ve taken care of her for twenty years.”

Coming back to Arden, he said, “I’ll keep you updated if I can. If not, Don will be in touch.”

“Ledge—”

“I’ve got to go, Arden.”

“I understand. Hurry.”

He left through the back door, but Arden went out behind him. Beyond the steps, the downpour was as heavy as a drapery. He hovered beneath the eaves to fish his key fob from his pants pocket. He flipped up the collar of his jean jacket. Arden had crowded in behind him on the top step.

He turned and reached for her hand, squeezing it hard. “If you were paying attention last night, you know everything you need to know.” He punctuated that with a firm kiss, then hurdled the lower steps and ran through the torrent to his pickup.

Arden stayed and watched him drive away before going back inside.

Lisa was standing at the sink, gazing out the window. “It’s really coming down.”

Arden shut the door forcefully. “That’s what we’re going to talk about? The weather?”

Lisa turned, looking defensive. “Weren’t you better off not knowing?”

“No.”

“What difference would knowing have made?”

“I would have been free of doubt. I would already be well past this stage that I’m in now.”

“What stage is that?”

“Infuriated.”

Lisa shook herself as though throwing off a cloying garment. “We have a lot to talk about. Most of it will be painful for both of us. But it would be beneficial if we presented a united front when we take all this to the attorney general, or whomever. Don’t you agree?”

Arden turned her head aside, raked her fingers through her damp hair, and murmured, “Ever practical.”

“And you’re ever impassioned.”

Coming back to Lisa, she said, “Yes. I take things to heart, I feel deeply, and I refuse to apologize for it.” Having reached an impasse, she turned way. “I’ll pack.”

“I haven’t been upstairs since you’ve been back. I’m going to take a look around.”

Not caring if she sounded snide, Arden said, “Make yourself at home.”

She went into her room, took her suitcase from the closet, and opened it on the bed. She packed only what she would need for several days, not by any means intending to stay with Lisa indefinitely.

After folding several changes of clothing into the suitcase, she opened the closet and bent down to get a pair of shoes. When she straightened up and turned around, she came face-to-face with Rusty, who was leering at her.

Before she could make a sound, he raised his hand to the side of her head, and the lights went out.

Chapter 40

Ledge drove at a speed that would have been incautious on dry pavement. It was suicidal on wet. His windshield wipers were on high, and it was still like driving through a car wash. He steered with his left hand while using his right to place a call to George’s cell, holding out little hope that he would get an answer.

He was shocked and relieved when George answered with, “Yo. Cap’n. You all right?”

“Yes, but how are things there?”

“Under control.”

“You caught him?”

“Caught who?”

Ledge’s heart bumped. He braked, causing his truck to hydroplane and fishtail. He maneuvered it onto the shoulder and stopped. “Somebody from the center called the bar, said that you were chasing a guy from the building, that—”

“Cap’n, I’m sitting here with your uncle Henry. We’re watching a rerun basketball game on ESPN.”

“Fuck! I mean, damn, I’m glad you’re both okay. But, oh, fuck, George.”

“You were suckered.”

“Big time. The dude got to somebody there on staff to fake an emergency call.”

“I’ll find out who and make them cry for their mama.”

“For now, stay with my uncle. Don’t leave him alone until you hear from me personally.”

“Copy.”

Ledge didn’t let himself become distracted by either his temper or self-castigation. He went into combat mode and focused on the job at hand.

He wheeled his truck around, barely avoided getting stuck in the ditch on the other side of the road, and was soon speeding in the direction from which he’d come.

He thumbed his phone to call Don, who answered immediately. Without any preamble, Ledge asked if any of the retired Texas Rangers were within shouting distance.

“All of them.”

“Dispatch them to the Maxwell place. Like now. I’ll need witnesses who’ll bear out that I was given no choice.”

“To do what?”

“Kill Rusty.”

“Arden?” Lisa called.

Where Arden lay with her ear against the floor, she could both hear and feel the vibration of her sister’s footsteps as Lisa entered the kitchen from the direction of the living room.

Rousing, Arden tried to sit up, but she was dizzy and off balance. Her hands were bound behind her back. Flex-cuffs, she thought.

“This place looks even worse upstairs, if that’s possible,” Lisa said as she came through the kitchen.

Arden tried to warn her, but only managed to croak her name.

“Are you—” When Lisa pushed open the door, she froze in place on the threshold and gripped the doorknob for support.

“Hi, Lisa.”

Arden’s synapses were operating sluggishly. From where she lay on her side on the floor, she looked up and blinked Rusty into focus. He was wearing disposable gloves. Her nine-millimeter looked very dark and menacing against the bright blue latex on his right hand.

Her own gun was aimed at her? How and when had Rusty gotten it?

Lisa said, “Don’t, Rusty. Please don’t.”

“Don’t pull the trigger, you mean?”

“Please.”

“Look at that, Arden.” He nudged her hip with the metal toe of his boot. “Did you think you would live to see the day that this bitch would beg?”

He bent down and hooked his free hand in Arden’s elbow, then yanked her to her feet with a suddenness that made her nauseated. He shoved her down onto the side of the bed. She sat, swaying, but raised her chin and gave him the fiercest look she could muster.

“Ledge is on his way here. If you hurt us, he will kill you.”

“Ledge is speeding in the opposite direction to rescue his poor ol’ senile uncle Henry.” He poked the barrel of the pistol between her breasts. “If you move, you’re dead.”

Lisa raised her fingers to her mouth and whimpered. “Arden hasn’t done anything to you.”

“Not yet, but she and Burnet are cooking up a bad batch of hassle for me. The only reason I haven’t killed her yet is because, first, I want to expose her to the devious bitch you are.”

As he said that, he reached into his shirt pocket, then opened his hand so they could see what it held. “These little buggers are the best invention ever. You stick them someplace like underneath a kitchen table, and you can hear conversations clear as a bell. Well, not quite that clear, especially with this damn weather. But clear enough.