Nate was dismayed to find himself in this situation. When, where, had it all gone wrong? This was supposed to be his moment of triumph. Confounded by Delores’s deceit, he said, “You wanted it destroyed? All along? Why?”
Beneath her husband’s incendiary glare, she drew herself up, not with shame over having been found out, but with defiance. She shook back her hair. “For sixteen years, I’ve made all the important decisions. If it wasn’t for me, prodding you, pushing you, politicking for you, you would still be peddling tin houses. I was the locomotive, Richard. You were a cattle car I dragged along.
“Well, it was my turn. Publicly I would have mourned your death. ‘How horrible. He was so strong, so vital. Who could have predicted a rare blood cancer would bring him down? Mrs. Hunt is prostrate with grief.’
“That’s what they would have said.” She laughed. “But then, after the lavish funeral I would throw you, they’d be saying how brave I was to assume your place, your seat in the Senate. This is what Richard Hunt would want and expect from his widow, to take up the torch and carry on.” She smiled beatifically. “And it wouldn’t be too long before they forgot all about you.”
Following her dumbfounding monologue, Nate braced himself for Richard’s reaction, one with an impact equal to an earthquake, a lightning strike, another big bang. Therefore, it astounded him when a smile spread slowly across the senator’s face.
When he spoke, his voice didn’t rumble with righteous wrath. Rather, it was soft and laced with sympathy. “How na?ve of you, Delores. Did you honestly think that I didn’t know what you had planned? If Dr. O’Neal hadn’t come in when she did and taken that vial from you, I would have. I knew what you were about.” He cast a glance toward Timmy. “Did you actually believe that I would allow you to put this urban vulture on the payroll without thoroughly vetting him myself?”
She laughed. “You were oblivious.”
“If it makes you feel better to think that,” he said with a shrug. “Every kiss, caress, tear, avowal of how much you loved me, all lies.”
“You didn’t know! You couldn’t have known.”
“You’re not nearly as good at deception as you think you are. As it turns out, I’m far superior.”
She tossed her hair again. “What difference does it make now who was the better deceiver? You can’t tell anyone about this or you incriminate yourself, just like that redneck pilot said. I have the video that proves your compliance in our little scheme. You’re not going to show it to anyone. Not when you’re so outspoken on imposing stiffer FDA regulations. Exposing this scandal would irreparably cripple your crusade.
“So,” she said, spreading her arms at her sides, “we’ll put this behind us. Our marriage will go on as before. In due time, I’m sure Nate can procure another dose of the GX-42.”
Richard looked at her with a sympathetic smile. “Impossible, darling.”
“With enough money, anything is possible.”
“It has nothing to do with money. We won’t go on as before because you’ll be dead, killed by the man who loved you.”
“You would never kill me.”
“True. But he will.”
He nodded toward the doors, which had been silently pulled open by Goliad. He stood with a pistol in hand.
Timmy gaped at him stupidly. “You’re dead.”
Goliad fired a straight shot through the center of Timmy’s forehead. He never felt it.
Delores looked at Goliad and exhaled his name in appeal.
“You have no honor.” The bullet went through her heart. She dropped.
Goliad lowered his arm. The pistol fell from his hand to the floor. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said to Richard.
The obsidian eyes that, to Nate, had always looked disturbingly lifeless did actually blink out an instant before his body collapsed. The hilt of a knife was sticking up out of his back.
5:50 p.m.
Heedless of the rain and the absence of headlights, Rye never took his foot off the accelerator between the mansion and the runway, steering with one hand, holding his cell phone to his ear with the other. He filed another flight plan. “Two souls on board.” He completed the call just as they reached the end of the landing strip.
Sheets of rain slashed against the SUV. He glanced over at Brynn. “Weather’s not ideal, but we’ll punch through it at about eight thousand feet. You okay with that?”
“Yes, just get me there. Can we make it?”
“We’ll make it.”
“In time?”
“We’ll make it,” he repeated with emphasis. “But better we do this in the dark until right before takeoff. Can you see your way to the plane?”
She could barely make out its shape in the darkness. “I’ll find it.”
“You go first,” he said. “I’m right behind you.”
She flipped up her hood, but it did her little good against the deluge. She was out of breath and shivering with cold by the time she reached the right side of the craft. Rye caught up with her there.
He went first, opened the door on the copilot’s side and got in, then heaved himself into the pilot’s seat. Brynn climbed in behind him. He reached across her to make sure the door was locked. “Buckle up.”
He put on his headset and started the engine. His hands seemed to do a dozen things at once, moving competently and assuredly. He used only the plane’s taxi light as he steered it to the far end of the runway and turned it around.
“I have clearance,” he said and looked over at Brynn. “Ready?”
“Ready.”
He flipped on the plane’s lights, used the PTT button to light the runway, then gave the plane the throttle.
A pair of headlights flashed on at the far end of the runway. The vehicle came speeding straight toward them. Rye stamped on the plane’s brakes, and, simultaneous to that, his cell phone rang. The vehicle kept coming and didn’t stop until it was twenty yards from the nose of the plane.
Swearing liberally, Rye whipped off his headset and answered his phone. “Rawlins, is that you?”
“Shut her down.”
“Not a fucking chance. Get out of my way.”
“You tampered with evidence and fled the scene of three homicides.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The bloodbath at the mansion.”
“Know nothing about a bloodbath.”
“Lambert called in a 911. Those two deputies who arrested you were the first responders. Three dead. Timmy, Mrs. Hunt, Goliad.”
“Jesus.” He looked across at Brynn, who had overheard and appeared as stunned as he.
“Lambert told them you two were there. They called us. We had a hunch where you had run off to and volunteered to stop you. I repeat. Shut her down.”
“Nobody was dead when we left. That we knew of.”
“Good, you can tell the detectives that.”
“When I get back.”
“You can’t leave.”
“I’m getting Brynn to Tennessee. Tonight. Now.”
“You’re going to play chicken with me on this runway?”
“It’s not a game to me. I’m flying this drug to a dying kid.”
“I get that. But if you go, you’ll be digging yourself into real deep shit.”
“Yeah? Well, I’ve got a propeller at about the level of your thick skull. You decide who’s in deeper shit here. You or me?”
Brynn heard Wilson saying something in the background. Rawlins cursed.
“There’s not time to debate this, guys,” Rye said. “That little girl is lost if we don’t go now. Make yourselves useful. Have a police escort meet us. Brynn will text you the name of the airport.”
“Can’t let you go.”
“Hell you can’t! Say you missed us. I won’t be gone long. Soon as I drop Brynn off, I’ll fly right back. I’ll surrender myself. Undergo interrogation. Spend the night in lockup. Take a lie detector test. But for right now, get the hell out of the way.”
“How do we know you’ll be back?”
“I give you my word.”
“And I’m giving you the finger,” Rawlins shouted into the phone.
Rye sighed. “Figured that if you caught up to me, you’d be a prick, so I left something for you in the driver’s seat of that SUV. It’s your guarantee that I’ll be back.”
“What is it?”
“My pilot’s license.”
Violet
7:37 p.m.