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“You said that Tango was almost done?” Mrs. Harcourt-Swain asked, her eyes on her phone screen. “I’m just looking up how much an E6 earns,” she said as an aside.

“I have questions about yesterday,” Winston said. “You had your revolver on you?”

“I did not, sir. Ms. Tifton said no guns. I didn’t see a gun on the subjects either.”

“I heard they shot the driver,” another man said.

“They didn’t shoot him dead, sir,” Ethan corrected. “They shot him unconscious. They medicated him.”

“Why not just shoot him dead?” the nephew asked.

Murder charges? Ethan had to choose his words carefully. “I don’t know. It was smart. Out of the box. Possibly planned.”

“Possibly?” Winston leaned forward. “They didn’t try to take Amanda by accident, young man.”

“No, sir, but they could have been going after any specific person at that party. Just someone that fit their criteria.”

“Which is?” Mrs. Harcourt-Swain asked.

“Alone, away from the others. If the goal was money, anyone there had the bucks to make it worthwhile.”

“So we don’t know if Aunt Amanda was a target?”

Ethan reached down and put his hand on Tango’s head. She was panting loudly; something about this place was stressing her out. Ethan checked his own stress levels to make sure he wasn’t causing her discomfort. “Mrs. Amanda Harcourt could have been an opportunity.”

“Ethan, do you have any ongoing physical injuries from your time in the military? Mental health stuff?” Mrs. Harcourt-Swain asked.

Ethan didn’t know how to take that question. He remembered what Pickeridge said about the weather, but that would be a hard pivot. “I’m squared away.” Seriously?

She picked up a piece of paper, nodded at it, then put it face-down on the table. “How did you find yourself assigned to Tifton Manor? Is that what you normally do?”

“My understanding is that Pickeridge Security received a cold call. This kind of assignment is not my usual responsibility. Typically, I accompany executives to hot zones. Or areas with a high likelihood of a natural disaster. I had told my manager that if they were working events in town, I’d like to be on that team, so I could practice with Tango.”

“Practice?” the nephew asked.

“Tango is at the tail-end of her certification program with Cerberus Tactical.”

“That’s right. That’s right. You mentioned this,” the nephew said. “Best in the business. What did she learn?”

“Tactical training—things like jumping out of helicopters. She trained on water.” This was closer to talking about the weather. “She was in St. Croix for a month to learn to surf and do water rescue and towing.”

“Why?” Winston asked.

“In case I’m protecting someone, and we are caught in a natural disaster,” Ethan said.

Winston drew his brows together and tucked his chin into the neck of his stiff, button-down shirt. “Not cheap.”

“It’s the kind of expertise I want to bring to the table when life and limb are on the line,” Ethan said.

“But the money it costs to train her—” the nephew started.

“What of it?” Ethan wasn’t enjoying any of this, and he wondered why he’d agreed to come.

“It could easily be lost.”

Ethan scowled.

“I mean, she could get sick and die, then your investment is down the drain.”