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  "Son of a bitch. I'm bleeding again." He grabbed the entire roll of paper towels and pressed it to his thigh.

  "Sarge, let me get him in the tank," Romero had Ethan by the back of the shirt and was trying to stand him up.

  "Hell no. That bastard is going in the chair. It'll do me good to watch him squirm."

  Ethan's strategy worked. Instead of the cell with a one-way door, he was going in what was often called the time-out chair. Anger and disappointment blasted from Romero's eyes, but he followed orders and, with the help of another deputy, wrestled Ethan into the restraint chair and strapped him down. I caught the faintest hint of triumph in his face before they lowered the bite mask.

  Romero must have caught the exchange because he came over to the bubble and slapped the bars in front of my face.

  "What are you laughing at, cop-killer?"

  I didn't take the bait. Lowering my voice, I said, "I know everything Romeo. The Shine, the chemical plant, and what you did to Sarah Jean. You left your hair grease on the wall and your," I hesitated, "baby gravy on the floor."

  I pulled back more out of instinct than planning a split-second before his meaty hand came through the bars. His fingertips brushed my sleeve, but I was out of his reach. Keeping my voice even, despite my rising panic, I said, "Romeo, I'm a lawyer. A good one. I've been down here investigating the whole Billy Ray mess. I have to admit; I had Sheldon pegged as the doer. Until this clusterfuck, you were completely under the radar. My people know I'm here, and they know he's a cop. If you do this, all you'll accomplish is adding cop-killer to your own charges. Back off and let Sheldon take the load. I can make that happen."

  I hated the flirtatious wheedle I was forcing into my voice. It took me back to that brown van, trying to convince Mikey not to kill us. It had almost worked then, so I had to try now.

  "Tony, I've been trying to figure out how Sarah's blood and your semen ended up on the cover of her diary. It was hidden under a board on her side of the bed."

  He kept his face still, but the dilated pupils told me I was right.

  "Yes, her diary. The one you tore the house apart looking for. The one you followed me for. I'm also surprised you managed to hit Harry after the crappy shooting at my club. I compliment you on rolling on the call so quick after bailing out the door. After all that, you still failed. I have the diary. To be precise, my associates have it and it's covered in your DNA. I'm guessing you made her suck you off like you did in the closet at the club and then you pounded her face into the floor. What did she do? Spit instead of swallow? You didn't realize there'd be enough mess to seep through the cracks between the floorboards. That was bad luck on your part. It can stay a secret. Billy Ray's going to fry in a month. He can take your sins with him. All the FBI wants is the drugs and a smart guy like you surely has an escape hatch. You can walk away from this with your cash haul intact. Unless something happens to me. Think about it. You pump me full of scopolamine and who knows what I might say."

  The clenched fist resting on the crossbar of my cage told me I'd drawn blood. I'd also shot the moon with that statement. However, this wasn't a time to be subtle. I didn't have much more in reserve.

  "How much does the cop know?"

  He'd taken the hook. All I needed now was to set it.

  I risked a look around the room. Grady was wrapping his leg, and the other deputy was watching Ethan. I lowered my voice and leaned against the bars. "He only knows about the drugs. It was pure coincidence. We know each other from a long time ago in Dallas and decided that outing each other wasn't as much fun as playing biker porn. We kept our legal business private. We had more fun things to do."

  "And your stunt back at the farm?"

  "He'd asked me to watch the meet via binoculars. He thought the club might be on to him, and he'd need a ride. I picked up the blowtorch action and decided I wanted him out of there. Turns out we couldn't outrun or outsmart you."

  That last part was over the top, but it seemed to work.

  I kept my eyes locked with his, willing him to agree with me when a magnolia-dipped southern drawl, the kind of voice intended to cut through the background noise of a crowded courtroom, sounded.

  "I'll kindly thank y'all to step away from my clients. Do not make me ask you again."

  CHAPTER 38

  I barely recognized Maddie. She'd replaced the skinny jeans and wild curls with a sleek navy blue suit and subdued chignon. There was no mistaking her tone or the cell phone she held high over her head and scanned around the room.

  She was taking video.

  Sergeant Grady, his thigh now wrapped in a white towel, limped to the counter. His lips twitched. He recognized her.

  "I do not know what kind of joke you're making."

  "It's the kind that's not a joke and not funny. Madeline Hyatt, attorney-at-law, at your service, and I want to speak to my clients: Juliana Martin also an attorney-at-law, and Special Agent Ethan Price of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

  Only a Southerner can put emphasis on just the right syllables to make anything sound like an invitation to go to hell. All she left off was a "bless your heart."

  Grady narrowed his eyes but held his ground. "You can talk to them after they are booked in at the county jail. Do you know what the charges are? Attempted murder of an LEO and aggravated assault of an LEO for starters. I don't care if she's Ruth Faker Ginsberg. And your so-called cop bit the shit out of me."

  Maddie bridled and didn't miss a beat.

  "I don't care if they're charged with trying to buy beer on Sunday. You will let me talk to them now, or you can explain it to a judge later. And I will be documenting their condition—physical, mental, and pharmacological." Holding the cell phone high, she pulled two drug test kits out of her oversized bag.

  The confusion in the room was palpable. I risked making eye contact with Ethan and was rewarded with a wink. We weren't out of the woods yet, but the trees seemed thinner.

  She raised her voice and continued. "Sergeant, I'd like to see my clients one at a time, in private, if you please. I'll start with Miss Martin. Would you please escort her to your interview room? Now."

  Her prissy mannerisms and over-the-top performance triggered my caution alarms.

  She's stalling. What's she waiting for?

  As she fussed at Grady while he tried to tell her that this facility didn't have a secure lawyer room, I caught motion out of the corner of my eye. In all the drama, I'd temporarily forgotten Tony Romero. I turned my head very slowly and didn't like what I saw. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his frame jangled with tension.

  I kept my voice low. "Tony."

  Desperation was clear in every line of his face. I saw a man who was running out of options.

  "It's over. You can still get out of this. I can help you. Let me help you. She only knows about the drugs, not about you. Let me help you."

  At this point, I was making up the lies as I went along.

  Grady blew out his breath and reached for a ring of keys. "We have a small cafeteria and rec area. I'll give you ten minutes with each one. It'll take them longer than that to get here from county with the van. Ten minutes.

  Maddie gave a coy butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth smile and turned to where Grady was pointing. Tony looked at me and back at her and something clicked.

  Down.

  I dropped to my hands and knees and scrabbled under the small wall-mounted table. A snap and swish of metal on leather told me that he'd drawn his weapon. There was only one target, and I was the proverbial fish in a barrel in the small cell. Pulling my legs close to my body, I waited for the report. I could only hope I'd spoiled the angle for the first shot.

  "STAND DOWN. DO IT NOW."

  There was no arguing with that order. It was cold enough that I expected to see icicles form on the bars. I didn't recognize the voice. It wasn't Grady or any of the other deputies. I peeked around the corner. Tony had lowered his weapon but hadn't dropped it. I snapped back into my dubious cover. Mos
t people never hear that phrase. I've heard it twice, and hopefully, it was going to save my life again.

  The next voice was like cool rain. "I'm SSA Max Gano of the FBI, and my companions are from the Mississippi Highway Patrol. Don't do it, Deputy. I will air you out. Miss Martin, please show yourself."

  Another peek told me that Tony had been disarmed. I crawled out and stood. Here was yet another Max Gano I'd never met. In a shirt white enough blind, striped tie, and charcoal suit shiny at the edges and corners, he looked every inch a government agent. Somehow he'd found time to shave and gel his hair flat.

  Grady broke the silence. "What the everloving hell is this. I need to call the Undersheriff. He's in command with Harry in the hospital."

  "The Jackson field office has already talked to your boss. I'm here to collect my agent and my confidential informant."

  "Like hell, you will. She's under arrest for the attempted murder of a law enforcement officer. She shot the sheriff."

  Max's lip curled up, and I could tell he was having trouble holding back the obvious joke.

  "No, she didn't. Let me show you something. Please."

  He pulled a tablet computer from his shoulder bag and set it up on the counter. He summoned Grady and the Highway Patrol commander.

  "This is drone footage that I took of the arrest of Agent Price and Miss Martin. Follow the action and watch Deputy Romero."

  That's where Max was. After everyone bugged out, he got more drones in the air and followed us.

  "Well, I'll be a son of a bitch."

  I didn't have to see to know what part of the footage they were watching. Grady turned and said, "Romero," Before he got the next word out, Tony bolted down the hall toward the back door, slipping past both troopers as he ran.

  Max put up a hand. "Don't worry. I left a couple of guys in the sally port."

  The yells, cursing, and crashing told me that the officers out back were more attentive than the ones in the office.

  Max turned back to Grady and said, "I need my people out of restraints. Commander, would you and your men please see to that? They need to speak with their lawyer and then their handler."

  Maddie didn't say a word during the entire incident. All she did now was smile and say, "Thank you, Agent Gano. I'll follow you to the hotel."

  "Wait a damn second. The agent of yours chewed the crap out of me. That's aggravated assault on an LEO. A damn felony."

  Max lifted the spit mask from Ethan's face and said, "Agent Price, what do you have to say for yourself? Did you bite this fine man?"

  I'm not sure everyone caught the sarcasm. Ethan hung his head and came up with a contrite expression on his face.

  "Sir, I am more sorry about that than you will ever know. You've got a couple of bikers back in the holding tank who had one order, to kill me. I don't know how they burned me, but I was a dead man walking unless I raised enough ruckus for you to throw me into the chair or solitary. Again, I am sorrier than I've ever been. I was cuffed and had to make it up on the fly. I knew Romero was a bad cop, but I didn't know who else might be in on it. I believed you were one of the good guys. I also had to believe that you wouldn't shoot me. Please, forgive me."

  The sergeant handed over the keys. "Boy, if I ever run into you off duty, you're going to need more than your fancy badge to save you from an ass-kicking."

  The thought of Grady and his gut straining against his uniform laying a hand on Ethan Price, much less administering a beating, twitched a few lips around the group, but nobody said anything.

  Stepping over the metal threshold of the cell was like crossing the border back into my life.

  CHAPTER 39

  Max touched my shoulder as I passed him. I got it. I wasn't about to say anything to anyone until we were out of here. Ethan followed me down the hall, rubbing his wrists where the straps bit into his skin. With only a nod to the officers at the back door, he held the government sedan door open and got in beside me. I wanted to hug him but knew better. Instead, I inched my hand over and tapped the back of his. It was enough.

  Max slid into the front seat and slammed the door, "Let's get out of here. I didn't make any friends with the Hypo when I played the federal jurisdiction card. Not to mention they are stuck cleaning up the mess with the sheriff's department. That letter from the state AG should be on the post commander's desk tomorrow." He started the engine and waved to the patrolmen as we pulled through the sally port and onto the road.

  "Day-um son, you've been busy." Ethan stretched his arms as far as the back seat would let him.

  "All in a day's work, my brother. You two cost me about every chip I had to cash in. I hope you're worth it."

  * * *

  Maddie pulled in behind us at Max's cottage. The first thing she did was kick off her heels and pull the clip out of her blonde hair. Shaking her curls loose, she said, "Hell, I can't believe that worked. Max, Honey, I didn't think you were ever going to come in the back door. I was running out of dance moves.

  "Sweetheart, I watched the whole video feed. You had them eating out of your hand. I had to wait for the second state cruiser. I had a feeling it could get messy. Luckily, my pufferfish impersonation worked."

  "I will air you out was a nice touch."

  I caught the undercurrent of their exchange. The intimacy intrigued me.

  "Hey you two, can a girl get a beer around here?"

  Ethan held up a hand and said, "That would be a good thing."

  "They get sprung from the can and the first thing they want to do is party. What does she think I am, a cocktail waitress?"

  I twisted the cap off the bottle she brought me and took a long drink. "I take it this means you're giving your notice at the bar?"

  "The money is pretty good, but the hours suck. Hey, I have news from Sasha."

  "I want to hear everything. Let's start with how I became a confidential informant for the FBI."

  Max passed out another round of drinks and sat down.

  "I ordered pizza. In my professional capacity, that is not a violation of the Confidential Human Source Manual prohibiting excessive socialization with my snitch. Does anyone disagree? It's an important way to build rapport and trust."

  Ethan opened his second beer. "As if you've ever adhered to the MAOP or the Employee Handbook. I'd offer to backstop you, however, given my status at Justice right now you'd probably end up in front of a firing squad. And to be honest, you pretty well jacked that thing about not interfering with legal processes concerning your CHS. We won't even discuss authorizing violence."

  "You're a saint, Price. A fucking saint."

  "Um, excuse me. Your snitch is asking for information here."

  "Jeez. I could say it was classified. Good thing we're all friends here. I needed a way to shield you and an excuse to take you into custody if this thing went stupid. About a week ago, I had a friendly clerk open a file on you. I hope you don't mind. I cribbed your CHS statement based on being a bartender with knowledge of the drug ring. I've done this before, and my position gives me a certain leeway as long as the paperwork looks good. I was hoping I wouldn't need to use it, but here we are. I'm glad you didn't shoot Sheldon. Even I can't get around the Whitey Bulger rules."

  "I know a couple of US attorneys that are not going to be amused by this." I wanted a third beer, but was beginning to feel the effects and changed my mind. I reached for a soda instead.

  "More luck. Nobody involved with the, um, Austin affair, should be anywhere near this. The US attorney for Georgia has wanted to bust the BOC for years and is more than willing to nod and smile. She's ambitious."

  "Am I going to have to testify?"

  "I don't see why you would. Ethan identified everything he needed on his own without your help. You're just his girlfriend who busted up the party. And with how things went down here with the sheriff, my much-vaunted training and experience tells me that Romero or one of his minions will sing like a bird. I'll write a statement that shades all this away from you. It turns out you
weren't much of a source after all. Good thing I didn't pay you."

  "Yeesh, I should have kept the Hawaiian shirt."

  Maddie put two pizza boxes on the table. "I'm only a small-town lawyer and don't know nothing about what y'all are talking about. How about we change the subject for a few and have dinner."

  I reached for a slice and said, "Motion sustained."

  Ethan's knee was warm against mine. The last time he'd had to shed an undercover and reclaim his identity as an FBI agent, I didn't see him again for months. Looking around the table, I also realized this was likely the final time the four of us would be together in easy friendship. I didn't want to talk anymore. I reached for more pizza and enjoyed the company. That is until Maddie's phone rang. After she swiped the screen and spoke a few words, she handed it to me.

  "Hello?"

  Joey sounded relieved. "What the actual hell? I've called you a dozen times. I finally decided to call Maddie. Somebody has got to come in and run the club. I'm being dispatched, and it looks like an all-nighter."

  My phone was somewhere in the gravel around the roadblock. This wasn't the time to discuss that.

  "What's up?"

  "There's a massive fire at Hawthorne Chemical. They've got casualties. Every squad in ten counties is on its way. I have to go. Keith can hold it together for a few, but somebody needs to get in here. Two of the cooks are volunteer firefighters. They're already gone. When I couldn't find you, I figured Maddie could handle it, or she'd know where you were." His voice trailed off.

  I had a million questions. They'd have to wait.

  "Joey, you roll and be careful. We'll talk on the other side."

  I hung up and handed the phone back to her. All eyes were on me.

  "I don't believe in coincidences. Someone is cleaning house at the Hawthorne plant. It's on fire. Max, I presume you've got things to do. Come on Maddie, your resignation is not accepted. We need to go run the club. It's not fair to make the crew miss a night's pay. You're driving."