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LUKE JOINED US in the foyer a few minutes later. He and Darwin had carried the dog to a gazebo at the edge of the property and left him sleeping under a bench. Darwin continued his reconnaissance, insisting that he would keep to the shadows so as not to raise suspicions if someone was in the caretaker’s cottage.
“Do you believe him?” Eve asked Luke, off mic.
He shrugged. “I’m not sure, to be honest. He seemed whacked. He smeared mud on his face and had a scarf tied around his head like in that old Stallone movie.”
“You mean Rambo?” I asked.
“That’s the one.”
“That can’t be good.”
“I’ve known Darwin a long time,” Eve insisted. “He’s never been interested in action movies or guns, or anything like that. I can’t believe he’s going to turn into some vigilante.”
“I think we need to talk,” I said. Angie hovered nearby as I pulled Eve aside and recounted the conversation Darwin and I had on the boat, and that he thought she was good with his decision. After the initial shock, she still didn’t believe he’d be a problem.
“Darwin’s about as dangerous as a puppy. He might think he’s capable of taking revenge for Sean, but he’s never killed anyone. I don’t think he’s going to start now.”
Angie cleared her throat. Eve and I looked at her, waiting for her input. “All this talkin’ about killin’ is fine and dandy, but can we get this show on the road? Time’s a wastin’.”
Eve glanced at her phone. “She’s right. Dobson will be here soon. Let’s get on with it.”
Using the Maglite from my backpack to light the way, we moved through the house. Dobson’s taste ran to midcentury modern—a pair of Eames chairs and matching sofa had pride of place in the living room, accompanied by a low oval coffee table and floor lamps with Jetson-style shades. There was even a vintage orange metal cone fireplace in one corner.
Angie stopped to admire the paintings in the living room and foyer. I recognized a Rothko and a Pollock, two of my favorite modernists. One, with a white background, had what looked like a bunch of colorful amoebas on it. I squinted at the distinct signature in the lower right corner. Miró. It looked like Dobson had invested heavily in some very valuable art.
The open-concept kitchen was a Michelin chef’s dream. I counted three ovens and two large Sub-Zero refrigerators, with an eight-burner gas stove. The eat-in counter seated twelve, lit by expensive-looking pendant lamps.
We continued down another hallway, this one quite a bit longer, past a bathroom that could host the Academy Awards and an office with a curved flat-screen television and an elegant pool table. The master bedroom was similar to the living area. It was like standing in a fifties time warp, with every stick of furniture a midcentury modern masterpiece.
Luke went to work securing a video camera to a mini tripod, which he then placed on the dresser across from the bed. He angled it toward a chair that Eve had placed next to the window. Eve sat in the chair while Luke adjusted the picture. Angie did what she did best: stand nearby and supervise.
I looked over Eve’s shoulder at the small screen. She checked the remote connection on her phone, zooming in and out to test the framing.
“Mary had a little lamb.”
As she spoke, a colorful graphic displayed her voice’s audio level. Satisfied, she pocketed the phone while Luke rearranged a few items on the dresser in order to obscure the camera. He then stowed the bag holding everything needed to restrain Dobson. All we had to do now was wait.
“We have incoming.” The edge was back in Kitten’s voice.
Startled, I asked, “Dobson’s here?” I hadn’t heard the floatplane approach.
“No. It’s someone else. A woman. I don’t know where she came from. She just appeared from the woods.”
“Where’s Darwin?” Eve asked.
Before Kitten could answer, there was a loud crash, followed by a scream. I was out the bedroom door in a second, headed for the front entrance. Just past the kitchen, I skidded to a halt. Darwin had a young woman in a stranglehold. Her face white, she whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut, her hands wrapped around his forearm.
“Darwin. Let her go.” I put as much steel as I could into my voice. The woman tried to look at me, but Darwin jerked her head back with a vicious twist of his arm.
“I can’t.” He shook his head, his eyes dark. “She’s going to ruin everything.”
“Darwin,” I said and took a step toward him, my voice calm, acutely aware of Angie’s and Luke’s presence behind me as well as the gun in my holster. “She won’t ruin anything. We’re not here to hurt anyone, remember?”
Darwin swiveled until the woman was between us.
“Stop.” He nodded at me. “Don’t come any closer.” He glanced down at the woman he held in his grip. “Who are you?” he demanded.
The woman whimpered again and shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “What have you done to Brutus?” she cried. Darwin choked her words short. I winced, hoping the pressure of his forearm didn’t damage her windpipe. Or worse.
“Shut up. Or you’ll end up like the dog.” His face now a dark red, Darwin clamped his mouth closed, making his jaw flex. Dried mud flaked from his cheeks onto the tile floor. The woman fell silent. Angie slid her hand underneath her jacket. She was going for her gun. I’d have to think of something, quick, or both Darwin and the young woman would be dead.
“Darwin.” Eve’s voice floated through the earpiece. “You don’t have to do this. Sean wouldn’t want you to.”
Darwin closed his eyes for a moment. “Yes he would. He’d want to avenge all of the people who died because of Dobson.”
“But not with an innocent life,” she countered, walking into the kitchen so he could see her. “If you kill this woman, you’re no better than Dobson.”
Darwin stared at the back of the woman’s head, and I held my breath, unable to guess what would happen next. Seconds ticked by. The tension in the room was palpable. Angie’s gaze never left the two of them.
Finally, Darwin let go of the woman and stepped back. A collective sigh of relief rippled through the kitchen. Angie’s shoulders lowered a fraction, and her hand dropped to her side. I hurried to where the woman was hunched over and rubbing her throat, gasping for air.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded and slowly straightened, wariness evident in her eyes.
“Who are you people?” She smoothed her hair back with a shaky hand. “And where’s Brutus?”
“The dog is fine. He’s been given a sedative to keep him quiet.” I led her into the living room and lowered her onto the couch. “As for who we are, the less you know the better.”
“You’ll never get away with whatever it is you’re doing. There are security cameras everywhere.” A look of fear crossed her features and she stared at me. “Unless you’re here to...” The question hung heavy between us.
“We’re not here to kill anyone.”
“Then what?”
“Let’s just say we want a confession.”
“A confession.” She frowned and shook her head. “From Mick?” A moment passed before the spark of understanding lit her eyes. She sighed. “I really liked this job,” she said, her voice quiet.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to keep you out of sight. At least until we’re finished here.” I stepped back, giving her room. She stood and smoothed her hands down the front of her jeans.
“He’ll wonder why certain things haven’t been done.”
“Like what?”
“Like turning on the exterior lights and the lights to the dock.”
“Good to know.” I studied her face. “What’s your name?”
“Amelia.”
The name on the terse emails Dobson sent. “Well, Amelia, is there anything else we should do?”
She nodded.
“I usually have a snack waiting for him on the kitchen counter.”
That didn’t sound unusual. She could use this as an opportunity to signal to Dobson that something was wrong, though. “Okay. Why don’t you go ahead and prepare whatever it is you usually fix for him, and then we’ll head back to one of the other rooms where we can keep an eye on things.”
Amelia nodded and walked into the kitchen, where she set out a small dish of olives and cheese from the fridge, along with a box of crackers, a chilled bottle of white wine, and a wineglass. Angie and Eve watched her closely, while Luke and Darwin disappeared down the hall. I walked to the opposite side of the room and flicked on the lights for the front of the house.
“Where do I turn on the dock lights?”
Amelia pointed to a set of light switches to the right of the door. “Second one in,” she said. I flicked the switch and two floodlights blinked on below the house, illuminating the dock and dark water beyond.
“Is that it?” I asked again.
She nodded. I joined her in the kitchen, and we followed the others to the back of the house. I was surprised that she wasn’t more protective of her employer and said so. She appeared to think over my observation and then stopped in the hallway.
“Can I ask you something?”
I nodded.
“Does this have anything to do with the overdoses in Seattle?”
The answer must have showed on my face, because she hurriedly explained. “One day when I was cleaning his study, I ran across a bunch of clippings from the news. Every one of them was an article or post about the fentanyl overdoses, and how no one could figure out the source of the contaminated supply.” She shrugged. “At the time, I didn’t really think anything of it. I just assumed he was interested in the story because that’s the business he’s in. But now...” She looked at me, the unasked question in her eyes.
“I can tell you that the plan is not to kill him, or you. I can also tell you that by the time we’re finished here, you’ll understand.”
My answer must have satisfied her, because she allowed me to lead her down the hall to the guest bedroom.
“Luke, could you bring some rope and the roll of duct tape to the guest bedroom?”
“Be there in a flash.”
After securing Amelia to the bed, I turned on the TV that was attached to the wall and slipped a pair of noise-canceling headphones over her ears so she could watch TV in peace. The headphones would also make sure she couldn’t hear anything if they got rough with Dobson.
I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
A piece of duct tape over her mouth ensured she wouldn’t call out to warn Dobson. Shutting the door behind me, I crossed the hall to the master bedroom to join Luke, Angie, and Eve, who were all waiting in the gigantic master bath. I had hoped Eve would send Darwin away from the house and back to the forest to keep Kitten company.
No such luck.
Darwin was curled up in the oval bathtub, his back to the room. I glanced at Eve. She motioned for me to follow her into the bedroom.
“I wanted to keep an eye on him. It doesn’t feel right to let him loose out there,” she said.
“Good point. We’re still on the same page, right?” I watched her carefully, alert for signs of deception. “No murder, just get him on video confessing to releasing the drugs, whatever that takes.”
Eve nodded. “Yeah. Of course. I don’t want to be an accessory to murder and have that hanging over my head for the rest of my life. I’ve asked Luke to watch him while we’re dealing with Dobson.”
“That’s good, because as long as he’s part of this crew he’s going to be a liability.”
“I know. And he knows we know. He’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. He’s still hurting about Sean. We all are.”
“There’s hurting and then there’s wanting to strike out at what’s hurting. I have a feeling that Darwin is firmly in the latter camp.”
“Maybe. But I have a feeling that Angie is...”
“Angie’s what?” Angie asked, walking in the door. Her look said she wasn’t very happy that she caught us talking about her. Eve opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sound of Kitten’s voice over the radio.
“Dobson’s here.” The faint sound of a low-flying plane could be heard echoing off the rocks in the tiny harbor.
The three of us went back into the bathroom and closed the door.
“We’re in position,” Eve said into the mic.
“Got it. I’ll let you know when he’s inside the house.”