Juliet returned the emeralds to their drawstring bag, not bothering to rewrap the one she’d liberated. She squatted down, examining a perfect footprint.
A running shoe for a foot smaller—way smaller—than her own. Unless Ham Carhill was a tiny man, it wasn’t his print.
Wendy.
Clutching the suede bag, Juliet followed the footprints out the back door onto the porch, then down the steps, where they disappeared into the lawn.
She heard ducks down by the lake.
And she saw a kayak bobbing in the lake, scraping on rocks.
Whose kayak?
She walked down to the lake. The paddle was half in the water, half in the mud, as if whoever had dropped it there didn’t care if it floated away. She leaped onto a flat rock about four feet into the water, but there was nothing in the kayak—no hint that her niece had been there.
“Aunt Juliet!”
Wendy. But the tone of her voice, laced with terror, chilled Juliet.
Bobby Tatro pushed Wendy out of the woods, onto the lawn near the lake. He had one arm around Wendy’s waist and the other around her neck, a knife held to her throat. “My turn, blondie. Hands up where I can see them. If you move a single muscle toward your gun, I’ll slit her throat. You know I will.”
Juliet raised her hands above her head, and she noticed his gaze follow the one that held the drawstring bag. “Let Wendy go, Bobby. I’ve got your emeralds. I’ll trade them for my niece’s safety.”
“Your gun, blondie. Toss it into the lake. Then we’ll deal.” He brought the knife even closer to Wendy’s throat. “Try anything, and you watch little Wendy die.”
“Okay. Just stay cool. I’ll use my left hand—”
“Do it.”
Juliet took her gun by its handle and dropped it into the lake.
“Very good, blondie.”
“It’s a muddy bottom here,” she said. “I’ll dump the emeralds out and all fifteen of them will disappear into the muck. It’ll take you forever to find them. You don’t have that kind of time. It’s a dead-end road, Bobby. Cops are on the way. You need to get your ass moving.”
He obviously didn’t like the idea of the emeralds disappearing.
“All you have to do is let Wendy go. Then you get the emeralds.”
Wendy’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word.
Juliet focused on her niece. “When you’re free, Wendy, run into the house. Barricade yourself in and wait for your dad to get here. Don’t run away. I don’t know who else is around here.”
“Matt,” she whispered. “Matt’s around.”
So, she knew her friend wasn’t who he’d claimed to be.
“The emeralds first,” Tatro said. “Then the girl.”
Juliet shook her head. “Not a chance. Let Wendy go.”
With a sudden burst, he shoved Wendy, so hard that she fell onto her hands and knees, but she got up, scrambling for the house as Juliet had instructed.
“Toss the bag on the ground,” he ordered. “I know you’re a black belt. But I’m good with a knife.”
That Juliet knew. She’d wait for the right moment to get it away from him. Not only didn’t she want to get killed, she didn’t want to get killed in front of Wendy. She flipped the suede bag onto the lawn. “If I were you, I’d take your emeralds and get moving. Never mind me.”
“What makes you think I won’t cut your throat?”
“No fun for you in that, Bobby.”
“Where are the keys to your truck?”
“Left coat pocket.”
“Jump over here. Do anything, and I’ll kill you, then I’ll kill the girl.”
Juliet jumped lightly from her position on the rock, landing in the soft, wet sand. “Where’s your friend, Kelleher? Any other accomplices trying to blend in around here and take advantage of people’s good nature?”
Tatro ignored her. “Get your keys.”
Juliet dipped her hand into her pocket.
Without any warning, Ethan leaped out of the woods, and Tatro, distracted, turned, giving her the opening she needed. She went for the arm with the knife, latching on to it, immobilizing it, as Ethan got Tatro around the neck with one arm and, at the same time, reached around with his other arm and latched on to the same forearm she had. But he snapped it, breaking the bone. Tatro yelled out in pain, and the knife dropped out of his hand.
Moving fast, Juliet picked up the knife. “You’re under arrest, Bobby.”
He rolled on the ground, holding his broken arm.
Ethan, breathing hard, stood up and dusted himself off.
“Nice distraction,” Juliet said, barely aware of her words. “I had him, one way or the other. I have another gun and pepper spray in my truck, and a black belt in karate—”
“You have another gun? I could have broken into your truck instead of sneaking through the woods. The ducks are pissed at me. I’ve got pine pitch all over me.” But he took the knife from her and touched her shoulder. “Juliet.”
She nodded. “I’m okay.”
“Go to your niece.”