The Edge

went back to his big opulent office and the huge adjoining bedchamber only to find it empty. His daughter, Marran, must have gotten herself untied because she'd locked herself in the bathroom. Molinas told her to stay there until he came back. We heard her crying.

    "Look what I found."

    We turned to see that Laura had opened a closet door that I hadn't seen before. "Guns, clothes, and look at this-two more AK-47s."

    She turned around, grinning really big. She was holding up a machete. "You never know if we might need it. They all carry knives. Just maybe we should have one too." She looked over at Savich. "You guys need to get out of those clothes. I'll help change Sherlock."

    She clipped the machete to her own belt. "There," she said, patting it. "I guess I'm ready now for just about anything."

    "I know you've got to have a radio somewhere. Get it." Molinas opened the third drawer of the huge desk and pulled out a small black radio.

    "Get the plane here, now."

    We all watched him set a frequency and listened to his rapid Spanish, some of which I couldn't make out. He looked up when he finished. "I didn't betray you," he said.

    Savich walked to where Sherlock was sitting on the floor, Laura holding her hand. He bent down and picked her up. "Let's get out of here."

    "You'd better pray that the Cessna comes," I said against Molina's ear.

    "It will come," he said. I saw him glance back at the radio.

    He didn't look happy.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

    We reached the airstrip at about five-thirty in the morning, according to the watch I'd taken from Molinas. The half-moon was fading quickly, but still hanging on, and behind it a few scattered stars dotted the gray sky. The mountains in the distance looked like ghosts, stretched up into broad sword shapes, others hunched over, all of them unearthly in the vague dawn light. There would soon be enough light to use the airstrip. Three days ago, I thought, we were in Edgerton, Oregon, buying sandwiches from Grace's Deli.

    The silence was profound, just the crunch of our boots on the rocky.ground. The rain forest began not a hundred yards to our left, stretching up the flank of the distant eastern mountains. The compound was directly behind us. If anyone was following us, they were staying out of sight. I thought of snipers and moved closer to Molinas. I hoped we covered the others' backs well enough so if there were snipers, they'd be afraid to shoot for fear of hitting Molinas.

    When we reached the edge of the airstrip, the sky was a soft gray, with strips of pink streaking to the east. There was no cover. We crouched down against the stark landscape, still too well silhouetted for anyone with a gun.

    Savich turned, a black eyebrow raised. "The rain forest begins right over there? Yet it's hot and barren here. How can that be?"

    "It's called deforestation," Molinas said. "The people are very poor."

    "Mac and I were already in there," Laura said. "It's incredibly beautiful but the humidity strangles you, and there are so many creatures you can hear but can't see, it's also terrifying. I'm grateful we don't have to go back in."

    Sherlock laughed, shaky, but it was a real laugh. "I think I just need to kill Marlin again. I can hear his laughter, his shouting. I'm just going to kill him. I'll see if he can come back from the dead a second time."

    "Yes, kill him," Savich said, looking directly into her eyes. "Kill him again, Sherlock. You're the only one who can do it. You did it before, you can do it again. Kill him and kick him a couple of times, then come back to me and stay. I need you here."

    "I need you too, Dillon," she said and closed her eyes. The look on Savich's face was terrifying. I gripped his shoulder.

    It was in that moment that I knew Jilly had been taking the drug when she went over the cliff. I'd been there with her and the drug had driven her mad, just like Sherlock. When she'd discovered Laura was a DEA agent, that she'd been betrayed, she'd been haunted by Laura in her mind. She hadn't been able to bear it. And that's why she'd driven her Porsche off the cliff.

    I looked over at Laura. She was still staring toward the eastern mountains, not moving, just staring. I wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, but there was something about the way she was focused on those mountains, her silence, that kept me quiet. Laura had it together. She was fine. I smiled at her, knowing in my gut that this woman I'd known for less than a week