“A dozen things could have gone wrong with Tatro’s plan, but nothing did. Worked like a charm. He must have had it worked out in advance in case he got picked up, because he sure as hell didn’t have any company while he was in custody.” Rivera sounded grim, but he didn’t need to go into detail of what federal, state and local law enforcement were doing to find Bobby Tatro—Joshua knew a national manhunt was in progress. “Juliet needs to know. How far out in the woods is she?”
“She’s camped out on a lake a fifteen-minute walk from our folks’ place.”
“She’s in a tent?”
Rivera sounded incredulous, which made Joshua smile in spite of his tension. “That’s right. She owns five acres on the lake. She likes to camp there during decent weather.”
“Well, Tatro can’t know she’s in Vermont, and it’s unlikely he’d get there even if he does know. Juliet’s on high alert as it is. She’s brought us up to speed. What is it, one, two hours before daylight? Have her call me after sunup.”
Joshua didn’t argue with him. The chief deputy would have a clearer picture of the situation. He hadn’t gotten the news from Barry Small and CNN. And Joshua had no desire to traipse out to his sister’s tent. Ethan Brooker was in town, and Joshua doubted he was staying at a hotel.
“How’s your daughter doing?” Rivera asked, his tone softening.
“Okay. Thanks for asking.” But Joshua knew he didn’t sound grateful—he sounded worried and irritated and helpless, because the man who’d terrorized his daughter was on the loose. “Who helped Tatro escape?”
“We don’t know.”
Joshua could imagine what was happening in New York. He raked a hand over his close-cropped hair. “I’ll have Juliet call you.”
After he hung up, he resisted an urge to kick the wall.
Barry sat on the edge of the couch. “Anything I can do?”
“Stay here. Let me know if anyone else calls. I’m going up to my folks’ place and keep an eye on things there.” He’d also get in touch with his colleagues with the state police and find out what they had on Bobby Tatro. “Barry, you okay? Not too much excitement for you?”
“Nah. I’ll be fine.”
When Joshua arrived at his folks’ house, all was quiet. Lights out, doors locked. Using his key, he slipped inside, not turning on any lights as he made his way to the living room. Spaceshot didn’t even trouble himself to bark. Having raised five sons and a daughter, his parents had no doubt heard his truck. But they’d figure he’d come over because he couldn’t sleep worrying about his own daughter.
Let them roll over and go back to sleep, Joshua thought, stretching out on the couch. There was no reason to panic. He pulled a knitted afghan over him, thinking about his daughter upstairs in his old room, telling himself that their luck was due for a turn and the marshals or NYPD would pick Tatro up by morning.
Seventeen
Ethan had left the window cracked on his rented car, and when he climbed behind the wheel, he sat in cold dew.
Served him right, he thought grimly.
It was barely daylight, but Juliet had assured him her family was the up-at-first-light type. He’d left her standing on the lakeshore, staring into a white fog that would burn off with the morning sun, her toes practically in the water. She’d slipped out of the tent early, before dawn, and performed tai chi and karate warm-ups in her flannel shirt and a pair of sweatpants she’d pulled on. When a flock of wild turkeys trooped through the nearby woods, she abandoned her exercises and went to get Ethan up so he could see them, but discovered he’d been watching her. He’d pulled her back into the tent with him.
And now it was time for a quick shower, a change of clothes, a pot of coffee and honest answers to any and all questions Deputy Longstreet had for him. She’d made it clear she expected nothing less. “I swear I’ll turn you over to Joe Collins, Brooker,” she’d warned him, never mind that she was lying naked beside him, loose and warm from their lovemaking.
The dirt road led back out to the main road, which he took down to Longstreet Landscaping. Juliet would walk from the lake and meet him there. When he parked next to the pumpkins, the vehicles that had been there last night were gone, and one that hadn’t been there—a spotless truck—was parked crookedly, its front left tire on the stone walk to the side porch.
An old dog got up slowly, stretched and greeted him with a head butt. Ethan patted him on the head.
“His name’s Spaceshot.” A tall, fair-haired man walked out from the side porch. Another brother. “You must be Major Brooker.”
“Just Ethan will do. You’re—”
“Joshua Longstreet.”
The niece’s father. He looked tense, exhausted. Ethan felt a wave of compassion for the man and decided not to bullshit him. “Juliet’s on her way over.”