He walked to the bedroom windows. Another solo glass—one side of the bed, and the pillows propped up on only one side. A single towel hanging over the doors of the shower, he noted. The door from the bedroom onto a small deck, also locked.

He walked down to the master bath windows—locked—but through them he saw makeup, a lot of it, scattered on the vanity counter—double sinks—with men’s toiletries shoved in a pile on the opposite side.

“You put on a good show, Patricia, but not good enough.”

He tried the back door before rounding the house to the second bedroom windows. He considered the drawn blackout shades, gave the windows a try, found them locked.

As he reached in his pocket for his penknife, he heard his deputies pull up. “Get out a BOLO on a Lincoln SUV, silver,” he ordered. “Ohio plates. And a blond female, mid-twenties, she’ll look pregnant. Go on around front and do that.”

Matty eyed him, eyed the shaded windows. “Are you planning to jimmy that window, Chief?”

“Around front, Deputy.”

She took out a hefty multi-tool. “This will do the job better and faster than that measly penknife you carry. Is the looks-pregnant Hobart?”

“We’re going to find out.” Reed took the multi-tool.

“Oh, shit. We’re going to break and enter?”

Without glancing back at Cecil, Reed worked on the window. “Get that BOLO in. If I’m wrong about this, we’re going to owe a pregnant woman and her paranoid husband an apology. If I’m not, I’m going to be doing a lot of dancing around probable cause.”

“Not unless you’re sloppy with the jimmying. That window was unlocked when we got here,” Matty said easily. “And the shade open just enough to see in. Nothing to see? No harm.”

Reed eased the window open a couple inches, pushed up the shade.

“My turn for holy shit,” Matty said as she peered in with him.

“Cecil! Suspect as described is Patricia Hobart. She’s armed and dangerous. I want the ferry shut down.”

“Shut down?”

“It doesn’t leave the island again until I clear it. Matty, I want a three-man team sitting on this house—out of sight. Nick, Cecil, and … Lorraine’s solid. Get that started. The rest of us, with our FBI friends, are going to start a manhunt.”

He pulled out his radio to begin coordinating when his phone rang.

“Simone, I need you to—”

“She’s here, at CiCi’s.” The voice breathless with fear turned his blood to ice. “I saw her—she’s blond, wearing a fake pregnancy belly. She’s—”

He heard wind, the whoosh of water, and the breathless fear in her voice. “Where are you?”

“Running. The beach, the rocks. I heard glass break, but she hasn’t come out yet. You need to hurry.”

“Take cover, stay down, stay quiet. She’s at CiCi’s,” he said as he ran for his car. “I want everybody to move in there. Nick and Lorraine out here, on this house, in case she slips through. Shut down the fucking ferry.”

As if he sensed urgency and trouble, Barney leaped through the open passenger window, but for once, didn’t stick his head back out.

*

CiCi nearly stumbled when they reached the beach.

“You’re faster. Go, baby. Go.”

“Save your breath. We just have to get to the rocks, get behind them.” She risked a glance behind. “She’ll think we’re in the house. She’ll have to look through the house first.”

Unless she looks out the big windows. Simone gripped the kitchen knife she’d grabbed on the run out. Run, she thought, hide. And when there was no choice, fight.

They reached the rocks, crouched down behind them. Water soaked through shoes, over ankles and calves; spray buffeted and chilled.

“Reed’s coming.”

“I know, baby.” Winded, CiCi struggled to find calming breaths. “You got us out safe, and he’s coming. Tide’s coming in.”

“We’re strong swimmers. And we may need to swim. She might see our footprints on the beach.”

Calmer now, determined to stay that way, CiCi shook her head. “It’s getting dark, that’ll make them harder to spot. If she sees them, if she starts down, I want you to swim out, swim toward the village. Now you listen,” she said when Simone shook her head. “I’ve lived my life, and done more than most with it. You do what I tell you.”

“We sink or swim together.” Simone risked a peek over the rocks, ducked down again. “She’s on the patio. Keep close to the rocks. The sun’s gone down, and the moon’s not up yet. She can’t see us.”

Knee-deep now, with the tug and pull of the surf dragging at them.

*

Reed saw the SUV a quarter mile from CiCi’s, took a turn at a speed that had his tires screaming nearly as loud as his sirens.

Hear that, Patricia? I’m coming for you.

*

She heard them, but she’d already started down the steps to the beach. Nine-one-one, bitch, she thought on a quick slice of panic. Full fucking circle. She considered making a run—maybe she could get to her car—but odds were against it.

Maybe she shouldn’t have had that drink before she walked down to the old hippie freak of an artist’s house, she could admit that. And maybe she shouldn’t have stood there watching that bitch and her Asian friend. The way they’d hugged and kissed disgusted her. Lesbians, no question.

She shouldn’t have started talking to Simone fucking Knox, shouldn’t have moved in that close, but she’d gotten caught up.

So close, so close. Bang, bang, you’re dead.

Gone off half-cocked, she thought, just like JJ.

No point worrying about that now. She just had to be smart, as always, and she’d finish this just a little ahead of schedule.

As the light dimmed, she edged back toward the rise. It would conceal her until the cops—let Quartermaine be one of them—got at least halfway down the steps. She’d take them out, every last one of the half-assed island cops.

Take them out, she thought, and unhooked the damp fake belly for more mobility, use the dark for cover, and get to the water. She’d swim to the marina, steal a boat.

Pull in somewhere down the coast, jack a car. She’d need to get into one of her bank boxes for cash and IDs, another weapon, but she’d figure it out.

She always figured it out.

And she would come back one day for the bitch who’d caused this goddamn bullshit. Who’d caused it all.

She considered the rocks, wondered if she could make it before the cops came. Wondered if the bitch and the old hippie freak were hiding there.

She gathered to sprint, heard the sirens cut off.

*

“I need to look again,” Simone whispered. “I need to see.”

“She had to hear the sirens. She has to know Reed’s coming.”

“I need to see.”

Simone eased up, strained to see through the encroaching dark. No moon yet, no stars. That in-between slice between night and day.

Then she saw him, stepping onto the patio, gun drawn and sweeping right, left, right again. Her breath came out on a wave of relief, then stopped again when she saw the movement below the house.

“Damn it, what’s happening?” CiCi edged up beside her. “Thank the gods and goddesses, there’s our hero.”

“He can’t see her. He’s coming down for us, and he can’t see her.”

“What are you doing? Simone, for God’s sake—”

Simone dragged herself onto the rocks, kicked off her shoes as the surf tried to pull her back. She made it to her knees and shouted for him.

It happened fast, though he’d relive it countless times in slow motion. He heard her, over the whoosh of the water, saw Simone, the silhouette of her kneeling on the rocks. Even as she waved her arms, pointed, Barney exploded with happy barks, and raced down the beach steps.

At the base, Barney looked right, went into his protective crouch, and quivered.

Patricia stepped out and swung left to take her shot.

Reed took his first. Hers grazed his shoulder, just above the scar. He put three in her, center mass.

He kept his weapon trained on her as he continued down, kicked her gun away from where it had fallen out of her hand.

Conscious, breath coming in pants, she stared at him out of blue eyes glazed with pain and fury.

“Don’t you die on me, Patricia. Call for an ambulance!” he shouted as his deputies poured out onto the patio, and more came from the north side of the beach as ordered. “Suspect’s down. She’s down. I want a couple of you to help get Simone and CiCi in the house so they can get warm, get dry.”

“Chief.” Matty stopped beside him as he knelt down, applying pressure to Patricia’s chest wounds. “You’re shot.”

“Not really. I know how that feels. She just nicked me. Thanks to my woman and my fucking moron of a dog, she just nicked me. Keep breathing, Patricia. I want to think of you doing a whole bunch of consecutive lifetimes in a cell. Keep breathing.”

“Reed.”

He glanced up at Simone and CiCi, both pale, their eyes too dark, both shaking.

“I need you to go on up, get on dry clothes. When you can, you’re both going to give statements to Matty and Leon. Separately. I’ll be there as soon as I can. There’s nothing to worry about now.”

He wanted to grab them both, hold them both, but not with his hands covered in blood.

“She shot you. She—”