She twisted her hands nervously. "I don't know. If I did, I'd tell you."
A middle-aged man stepped through the front door. He wore a collar. "Alexa?"
She turned. "Father Joseph? What are you doing here? Oh, God, it's bad news, isn't it?"
"I came because I heard Danny is missing. I don't know anything, Alexa."
She looked around the room. The officers stood there, faces carved in sympathy and regret. The priest wore a pained expression. "You think he's dead, don't you?" she said, bursting into tears. "All of you think my son is already dead."
"No," Max said. "He's not dead. We have to believe that."
"Let's go somewhere private," Father Joseph said. "I'd like to spend a few minutes with you alone." He led the sobbing woman away.
"What are we going to do?" Jamie asked Max, wondering how long Alexa could hold up. "Do you have a plan?"
Max was prevented from answering when his cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket. "Max Holt," he said tersely.
Jamie watched the changes on Max's face. The look in his eyes told her something was wrong, bad wrong. He snapped his phone shut. "I have to leave for a few minutes," he told her. "I want you to stay with Alexa."
"What's happened?"
"Don't automatically assume the worst, okay?"
"I know you, Max. Who just called?"
"It's not important, but I have other business to attend to. I won't be long. Trust me for once."
She studied him. She did trust him, but she knew he took risks, and that's what bothered her.
He glanced around. "I have to let Lamar know I'm going out for a few minutes. I'll be back before you know it."
Jamie waited until Max headed off to talk with Lamar before racing out the front door. She opened the door to Max's car. "Muffin, Max is in trouble," she said. "I don't have time to explain. Open the trunk so I can climb in."
"I don't normally take orders from anyone but Max," Muffin said.
"I'm pretty sure this is a life-or-death situation. If you don't help me now, you might not have Max around to give you orders."
"It's going to be tight in there," Muffin warned, "even though the car was designed with more room than the standard Porsche."
"Yeah, okay," Jamie said, closing the door. The trunk popped open. She was surprised to find it located at the front of the car. Without wasting another second, she ran in that direction. "Oh, damn," she muttered when she saw just how small the trunk was. She climbed in, scrunching her legs beneath her chin, making herself as tiny as she could. She closed it only seconds before Max opened the door, slipped into the front seat and started the engine.
"I have a situation on my hands, Muffin," he said, as the safety bar closed over him, and he shot out of the parking lot. "It's serious."
"I'm all ears."
"Swamp Dog is holed up in the city municipal building. He's got Frankie and Alexa's son. And Deedee's dog," he added.
"A hostage situation?"
"Yeah. Now, listen, if I don't get back to you—"
"Don't talk like that, Max."
"Listen to me, Muffin, this is very important. I've been thinking about the word 'EPSCO.' I think it's a cryptogram for the word 'SCOPE.' "
"Meaning the people involved scope out opportunities to rip off everybody they can."
"That's probably not exactly what they had in mind when they came up with the word, but it means the same thing. It may just be the password to get into those financial organizations in Delaware."
"How come I didn't figure it out on my own, Max? I mean, a child could have done it."
"Because it was too simple, and we have a tendency to make things more complicated than they are. It was staring us right in the face."
"Max, I can't let you go into that building. You're dealing with a madman."
"I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, right. Your sixth-degree black belt won't mean shit to an animal like Swamp Dog. A karate chop is no match for a bullet. I have to notify the FBI. They could grab a chopper and be here in an hour."
"There's no time. Swamp Dog said if I wasn't there in fifteen minutes he would start shooting."
Chapter Fifteen
From inside the trunk, Jamie heard the entire exchange, and her blood ran cold at the thought of Max facing Swamp Dog. Max didn't even carry a weapon, for God's sake! Not that it would matter to a man like Swamp Dog. She tightened her grip to keep from slamming into the side of the trunk as the car careened around a corner. Max was literally flying. After five minutes or so, the car slowed. Jamie felt the car turn several more times before it finally came to a screeching halt.
"Where are we?" Muffin asked.
"I've parked in front of a wooden garage door that's twice the size of a normal one. I assume this is where they store the city trucks and heavy equipment. There's a side door as well. I'll enter the building through it."
"My exterior audio sensors are on," Muffin said.
"I should be able to hear and record everything that goes on in there. So far it's quiet, but my heat sensors tell me Swamp Dog and his hostages are near the back of the warehouse." She paused. "Uh, Max?"
"Yeah?"
"Be careful."
Jamie listened as Max climbed from the car. She waited until she thought he was out of earshot. "Muffin?"
"I'm here."
"Pop the trunk."
There was a moment's hesitation. "Sorry, Jamie. Can't do it."
Jamie blinked in the darkness. "What do you mean you can't do it?"
"It's far too dangerous to let you out."
Jamie's temper flared. "Max is in danger, dammit, and I'm not going to just lie here in a fetal position and wait for Swamp Dog to kill him. Let me out of the damn trunk now!" Jamie was glad Vera wasn't there to collect quarters over her cussing.
Muffin didn't respond.
* * * * *
Mitzi and Lenny had cruised by slowly as Max turned into the driveway of the old building. They pulled into the parking lot of an adjacent building, and Mitzi cut the engine. She reached into her purse for her gun. She turned to Lenny. "Ready?"
He sighed.
"You're going in there with me whether you like it or not."
"I'm not a killer, Mitzi, and neither are you."
"Listen to me, you dumb son of a bitch. There's a lot of money riding on this. We go in, pop the guy, and get the hell out of there. Simple as that."
"We could go back to our old life," Lenny said. "I could get a real job. Ya know, you don't appreciate life until you watch it snuffed out of another person," he added. He met her gaze. "I could take care of you, Mitzi. You wouldn't have to go back to stripping."
Mitzi's mouth fell open in surprise. "You? You can't even wipe your ass, Lenny."
"A man can change if he has reason enough. You're enough reason for me. Vito never appreciated you like I did. Like I still do."
Mitzi looked thoughtful for a moment, but then the hard look returned. She raised her gun, pointing it directly at Lenny. "You either go in there with me now or I'm going to put a hole in your head the size of Texas."
Lenny looked dejected as he reached beneath the seat for his gun. "Maybe dead is better," he said. He got out of the car, and they started for the building.
* * * * *
Max stood just inside the door of the municipal building and waited. The place was a massive storage facility for city equipment, which included bulldozers, trucks, tractors, and yellow cars. The smell of diesel and rust was almost overpowering. Generators hummed, and Max could hear the creak and pop of cooling metal from some of the vehicles.
Swamp Dog stepped from behind one of the trucks, holding a gun. "Nice seeing you again, Max."
"Where are the others?"
"I'll show you." He motioned Max to follow him.
Max did as he was told. Frankie and Alexa's son were tied to a gas tank, their mouths covered with duct tape. Choo-Choo was leashed nearby. He barked and wagged his tail at the sight of Ma
x. "Are you all okay?" Max asked, looking from Frankie to the boy. They nodded. The fear in Danny's eyes was palpable. Max found himself hating Swamp Dog more.
He turned to Swamp Dog. "Let them go. It's me you want. Besides, Frankie has already decided to pull out of the race."
"You think I'm stupid? He knows too much. He'd squeal like a stuck pig if I let him go."
"He doesn't plan to hang around long enough. His wife is already packing their bags for Scottsdale, Arizona. They just want to get the hell out of here and start a new life."
Swamp Dog shrugged. "You don't get it, Holt. I don't care about any of this."
"What about the boy? What did he do wrong?"
"His mother has a big mouth."
"That's the problem with you and the people you're working for. You're so damn greedy and paranoid you don't know what you're doing. Alexa Sanders would never say anything to jeopardize her son's life. I want you to untie him and send him on his way."
"I told you a long time ago I play by my own rules," Swamp Dog said. "I've decided to up the ante. You want your friends and that stupid mutt to stay alive, then you have to kill me." His look was menacing. "If I kill you, I get to take them out as well."
Max's eyes hardened. He almost choked on his anger. He had never killed, but he knew he could kill the man before him and never regret it. But he had to keep that anger in check, keep his wits about him because others were involved.
"I'm unarmed. You plan to gun down a defenseless man, Hodges?"
"I don't know anyone by that name."
"Sure you do. That was the name you used to go by. When you were a big brave soldier in Special Forces," he added. "Until you went over the edge. You lost it, didn't you?"
"Go screw yourself, Holt. You don't know shit."
"I know all of it."
Swamp Dog's face twisted into a painful snarl. "I have all the more reason to kill you now. But I'm no coward. You want hand-to-hand combat, I can do that, too." He laid down the gun and kicked it aside. Very slowly, he approached Max.
Max waited, his face void of expression, eyes alert and trained on the man before him. Suddenly, Swamp Dog rushed him. Max stepped to one side and gave him a kick that sent him flying into a bulldozer.
Swamp Dog stood up and wiped a trickle of blood off the side of his face. He smiled. "This is going to be more fun than I thought. I do love killing people who can give me a run for my money."
"That's not the information I have," Max said. "I hear you like taking down innocent women and children."
"The enemy always looks the same."
Max decided to try to keep him talking until he could come up with a plan. "Why'd you come to work for me?"
"Because I like getting close to the enemy. Close enough to feel the knife go in."
"Why did you kill Vito? Wouldn't it have been simpler to let him shoot me and get it over with?"
"The guy kept getting in my way. I took him out so I could have the pleasure of killing you myself."
"You had the opportunity on your boat that day."
"You don't understand warfare, Holt. It takes only seconds to kill. What fun is that? I like watching my prey squirm."
The two men circled each other as they talked, each gauging their opponent. All at once, Swamp Dog moved like lightning, ramming his head into Max's belly. Air gushed from Max's lungs and he staggered back, barely evading Swamp Dog's grasping hands.
"Whatsa matter, rich boy?" Swamp Dog taunted. "Never been in a fight with a real man before? Or maybe you're used to hiring somebody else to do your fighting."
Max blinked several times to clear his head, and then lashed out with his foot. The front kick connected solidly with Swamp Dog's stomach, doubling him over. The man had no time to recover before Max followed up with a roundhouse kick to the head. Swamp Dog dropped like a felled oak. Max followed him down and pinned him to the floor.
Swamp Dog bucked like a wild bronco beneath Max, trying to break Max's hold. Swamp Dog gave one final heave, and threw him off. They grappled together, each desperate to gain the advantage. Out of the murderous scrimmage, Swamp Dog found an opening and reached for Max's neck, reaching, reaching, until finally he closed his hands around it and began to squeeze. "You're a dead man, Holt." His eyes glittered with rage.
"Pretend I'm an innocent woman or child," Max managed. "Isn't that the way"—he paused and tried to suck in much-needed oxygen—"you like it?" He grabbed for Swamp Dog's thumbs and twisted hard.
Swamp Dog howled like an injured animal.
"What did you do to them?" Max demanded, staring into the face of a mad man.
"What I'm going to do to you, asshole."
Max couldn't allow Swamp Dog to win this fight. He couldn't let this psycho kill Frankie and Danny. Alexa's boy. Deedee's husband.
He summoned every ounce of strength he had left. Breaking Swamp Dog's hold, Max took one precious split-second window of opportunity. With a carefully aimed chop, he landed a blow to the man's larynx. Swamp Dog clutched his throat, his face distorted in agony. Max struggled to catch his breath.
With the speed of a trained killer, Swamp Dog reached for his abandoned gun. Max scrambled toward him, but it was too late. Swamp Dog raised the gun and aimed it at Max.
A shot rang out, echoing inside the large building. Max froze. Swamp Dog gazed at him in disbelief before his eyes glazed over. The gun fell from his limp fingers and clattered against the floor.
All was silent. Max glanced around. Finally, he heard the sound of high heels. Annabelle Standish stepped from behind one of the bulldozers and smiled at Max. She was regal, dressed in clothes that had never come off a rack.
The gun looked incongruous in her delicate hand.
Max stood. "That pistol doesn't go with your outfit, Annabelle," he said.
"Good evening, Mr. Holt."
Max stood, still panting from the fight. He did not look surprised to see her. "You'll have to excuse my appearance, I've been doing a little hand-to-hand combat."
Annabelle looked at Swamp Dog. "Disgusting fellow, wasn't he? White trash, that's all he was."
"Well, you certainly showed him what happens to folks born on the wrong side of the tracks."
"He disobeyed my orders. When I pay someone to do a job, I expect them to follow through."
"And he was paid to kill me?" Max said. "You know, he tried. He came very close the first night I was in town."
"Don't be ridiculous. We had nothing to do with that." She glanced at Frankie. "Swamp Dog was hired to scare off Frankie, that's all. But then you came into the picture and started nosing around, and that changed everything. You should have minded your own business, Mr. Holt. It would have been so much simpler."
"And just let you people keep scamming the taxpayers?"
"This town is a better place because of people like me." She drew herself up proudly. "Some people are whiners and complainers, Max. I get things done."
"And pad your pockets along the way."
"You're saying I should do it for nothing?"
"That's how you ended up being touted the most charitable woman in town."
"It gets good press and encourages others to dig deeply into their pockets."
"But it's getting harder for them to keep lining your pocketbook because of all the tax increases. You and your cohorts would have probably gotten away with it, but you all got greedy."
Annabelle opened her mouth to respond but turned when the side door to the building creaked open. Beenie and Deedee peeked inside the door. Max took a step toward Annabelle, but she trained her gun on him. "Don't move," she said. Then, in a voice a Southern hostess would use for welcoming guests, she called out to Deedee. "Please join us, Mrs. Fontana. So glad you could make it."
Deedee and Beenie looked at one another as though unsure what to do. Finally, Deedee spotted Frankie. She hurried inside, with Beenie close behind. "Oh, my God!" She turned to Annabelle. "Why is my husband and that boy tied up?" she demanded. "And why are you holdi
ng that gun on Max?"
"You're in no position to question me, dear. Now, you and your servant boy behave yourselves and go stand next to Max."
Beenie bristled. "I am not a servant boy, thank you very much. I am Mrs. Fontana's personal assistant."
Deedee snapped her head in his direction. "You got your memory back?"
"Yes, and I'm totally disgusted with the whole thing. Why am I dressed like some man in a beer commercial? And would you look at your shoes. You've ruined a perfectly good pair of Manolo Blahnik heels."
"I stepped in mud," she said. "Look, you've got mud on your sneakers."
Beenie sighed. "Good thing I'm not wearing my Tod's. Who picked out this outfit anyway, Frankie's wrestling buddies? I'm surprised I'm not in a T-shirt brandishing a beer label."
"You forgot you were gay and started acting like a guy."
Beenie's hands fluttered to his throat. "Oh, Lord, say it ain't so. I didn't go hunting or anything like that, did I?"
Max and Annabelle watched the exchange in silence. "Okay, that's enough silliness," Annabelle said. "Perhaps you two don't realize the seriousness of the situation."
Beenie struck a pose and tapped his bottom lip with one finger. "I see a gun and a couple of hostages. Doesn't take a mobile home falling on me to understand what's going on. I'm not an imbecile."
"Phillip said you were foolish," Annabelle said.
Beenie shrugged. "Phillip has poor taste in ties so who's the bigger fool?"
"Would you shut up, you idiot?" Deedee cried. "Do you want to get us all killed?" She flashed a worried look toward Frankie. Her husband struggled with the ropes on his wrists.
"Both of you do as Mrs. Standish says," Max told them. He looked at Annabelle. "What's the plan here?" he asked. "Are you really going to kill all of us?"
"You've left me no choice, Mr. Holt. You know too much."
"And what are you going to do with the bodies?" he asked. "I can't imagine a woman like you digging graves. You'll get bloodstains on your nice dress. What will your dry cleaner think?"
"You underestimate me, Mr. Holt," she said calmly. "I would never have walked through that door without a plan." She nodded toward the gas tanks where Frankie and Danny were tied. "Swamp Dog made it easy for me by tying the hostages to those gas tanks. By the time the authorities find all of you, you'll be burned beyond recognition. And I'll be home sipping tea and planning my next social event."