Stranded

a choice. Besides, if I recall,
you
didn’t have a choice. Senator Delanor-Ramos twisted your arm.”
    “Damn politicians,” Kunze said under his breath, and he started pacing again.
    “I think I may have found something,” Alonzo said.
    The rest of them scrambled from their chairs to stand around behind the agent.
    “A couple of days ago when I accessed the Iowa farm’s land survey to find out property boundaries there was a list of contact names. The executor of the estate was included: John Howard Elliott.”
    “What about him?”
    “He’s also on the list I found of troubled teenagers Helen and William Paxton took in. And it looks like John Howard and Otis were at the farm at the same time.”
    “Holy crap!” Ganza said.
    “That’s it.” Gwen knew that was the connection. “John Howard
is
Jack.”
    “Alonzo, get back to those Florida properties on that frickin’ river,” Kunze told him as he grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair. “Let me know what you find out.”
    “Where are you going?” Racine asked.
    “I’ve got two agents I just sent into a shithole. I’m going down there to pull them out even if I have to do it myself.”

SUNDAY, MARCH 24

CHAPTER 66

    BLACKWATER RIVER STATE FOREST
    Tully was asleep, his head on Maggie’s shoulder. She leaned her cheek against him. His hair was damp and sweaty, his forehead was feverish, but he slept peacefully. No groans or fitful jerks. Maybe the whiskey. Maybe the antibiotics. Either way, she was glad he could rest. At least for now.
    As for herself? She didn’t dare close her eyes but it grew harder and harder to keep them open. The cabin filled with warmth from the crackling wood fire. The storms were dying away to occasional flickers of lightning. The crashes of thunder reduced to a distant rumble. As quickly as they arrived, they exited.
    Her stomach growled and she remembered Tully joking that she would regret not having the best waffles in the world. He had ordered the Waffle House’s All-Star Special with scrambled eggs, sausage, grits, a waffle the size of a dinner plate, and coffee. Her mouth watered just thinking about it now. She had settled for wheat toast and orange juice. Even the waitress had warned that she would regret her choice. “Oh honey, that’s hardly nothing.”
    The idea that she was thinking about food made her smile. It was something she’d obviously acquired from working so closelywith Tully these past several weeks. He seemed to eat out of stress and boredom and anxiety.
    She hadn’t used all of the bottled water to clean Tully’s wound. Now she drank what was left. A few seconds later her stomach was still growling.
    “You should have had breakfast,” Tully mumbled into her shoulder without moving his head away.
    “I don’t suppose you have any of those prepackaged honey buns in one of your pockets?”
    “I thought you said you’d have to be starving before you’d eat one of those.”
    “Point.”
    She felt his “humph” more than heard it.
    “Do you hear that?” Jack suddenly said from across the room, startling them.
    Maggie thought he meant their conversation, but he walked the length of the cabin with his head tilted to listen and his arms out, palms up, like a preacher getting ready to proclaim a miracle.
    Otis wiped at his eyes and rubbed his jaw. The big man had been asleep and looked just as confused as Maggie and Tully about Jack’s excitement.
    “Don’t you hear that?”
    He lifted the hatch and opened the potbelly stove. He doused the fire, watering it down until there wasn’t a curl of smoke left.
    Then he looked from Tully and Maggie to Otis, surprised that no one had even stirred. His eyes returned to Maggie’s when he said, “It’s quit storming. I’ve looked forward to this for a long time, Magpie. Don’t disappoint me.”

CHAPTER 67

    Creed scrambled to put his gear back on as he watched the storm clouds move east. Veins of lightning streaked through the black mass that still roared, though the sound had diminished. Under the black mass Creed could see the first light of dawn.
    He was harnessing Bolo when a call came in from Agent Alonzo.
    “I found it,” the young agent yelled before Creed could say anything.
    “Otis has a cabin?”
    “Not Otis.” Alonzo explained what he’d learned about John Howard Elliott and the connection between the two men. “Our guy is John Howard Junior. The senior Elliott owns a piece of land right on Blackwater River. Just on