“Where do you hide? I don’t understand how this works.”

“I may have to camp out for a while. I’ve got a bunch of subsistence food and plenty of water – by the way, don’t drink the water in the fridge without checking with me first, the left side is poisoned. Anyway, I may just find someplace remote and sleep in the car until I’ve recuperated enough.”

He blinked a couple of times, probably thrown by the poison thing.

“Maybe we can do something about your problem with conspicuousness,” she said more lightly, touching his blanket with one finger. “I think there might be some clothes up at the house. I doubt they’ll fit you, but they’re better than what you’ve got.”

A wave of relief passed over his face. “I know it’s a small thing, but I think that would actually help quite a bit.”

“Okay. Let me go turn off the lethal-gas trap.”

In the end, she did surrender the SIG Sauer, although with some regret. She liked its weight. She’d have to find her own.

The farmhouse owners’ belongings were stashed in the attic, in a set of dressers from six or seven decades back. The man was obviously a lot shorter and wider than Daniel. She left Daniel to sort that out while she went back to the barn to pack up the car.

Kevin was there when she entered, tightly rolling a big swath of black fabric into a manageable armload; it took her a moment to realize the fabric was a parachute. She kept her distance as he worked, but the truce felt solid. For some reason, Daniel had put himself between her and his brother’s animosity. Neither she nor Kevin understood why he was doing it, but Kevin cared too much about Daniel to violate his trust today. Not when he was still reeling over years of lies.

Or that’s what she told herself to muster up the courage needed to walk past the dog to her car.

She was an old hand at packing, and it didn’t take her very long. When she’d come out to meet Carston, she’d stowed her things and dismantled the security at the rental house, just in case she didn’t make it back. (One of her nightmares was that the department would get her while she was out, and then some innocent, unsuspecting landlord would enter the premises and die.) She’d stashed everything outside DC, then come back for it when she’d started setting up for Project Interrogate the Schoolteacher. Now she fitted it all into the worn black duffels – the pressurized canisters, the miles of lead wires, the battery packs, the rubber-encased vials of components, the syringes, the goggles, the heavy gloves, her pillow, and her sleeping bag. She packed her props and some of the new things she’d picked up. The restraints were a good find, and the cot was decently comfortable and folded down into a small rectangle. She put her computer in its case, grabbed the little black box that was just a red herring, like her locket, pulled down the long cables, and rolled up the extension cords. She was going to have to leave the lights, which was a bummer. They hadn’t been cheap. She dismantled the tent, leaving just a pile of meaningless foam and PVC pipe, and shoved the table back to where she’d found it. There wasn’t anything to do about the holes she’d drilled.

She could only hope that she’d obfuscated things enough that the owners would only be confused and angry at the destruction rather than suspicious that something nefarious had happened here. There was a chance they’d report their destructive tenant to the authorities, but local police wouldn’t be able to construe anything from the mess either. As long as certain words didn’t go into the report, there was no reason for anyone in the government to notice. She was sure there were Airbnb stories of destruction much more interesting than this one.

She shook her head at the door to the bunk room. The dog had chewed or clawed a hole two feet high and a foot wide right through the center of the solid wood door. At least it had only jumped over the car rather than eating it on its way out.

She was finished loading the trunk when Daniel came back in.

“Nice capris,” Kevin commented, winding the cable of his grappling hook into a neat coil. Alex wondered if he’d climbed back up onto the roof to retrieve it and, if he had, how she’d missed that.

It was true that Daniel’s pants made it only halfway down his shins. The cotton shirt was a few sizes wide, and the sleeves were probably too short as well – he had them rolled to the elbows.

“If only I had half a wet suit.” Daniel sighed. “Then I would feel ready to face the world.”

Kevin grunted. “I’d have a whole wet suit if the psycho wasn’t such a perv.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, I was looking for weapons.”

Daniel watched her close the trunk.

“Are you leaving?”

“Yes. I need to get somewhere safe so I can sleep.” She imagined she looked haggard enough that the explanation was a little redundant.

“I was thinking…” Daniel said, and then hesitated.

Kevin looked up from his rifle, alerted by Daniel’s tone.

“What were you thinking?” Kevin asked suspiciously.

“Well, I was thinking about the scorpions in the jar. Alex said there were only two outcomes – one kills the other, or both die. And I imagine that the people who wanted to kill you thought the same thing.”

“So?” Kevin said.

“So, there was a third option,” she said, guessing the direction Daniel was headed. “The scorpions walk away. They won’t be expecting that. That’s what will make you safe, Daniel.”