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“But Brynn is a dedicated doctor who’s been giving it her all, putting her reputation on the line, putting up with me, trying to save the life of a kid with blood cancer. Now if that sounds like criminal activity to you, God help you. But it sure as hell doesn’t sound like it to me.”
“According to you, Hunt’s getting the drug.”
“Right now.”
“So, that’s what they were after. Everybody will be happy. What do you think is going to happen to Dr. O’Neal? She’ll be disappointed, maybe, but why do you think she’s unsafe?”
“Because she tried to keep Hunt from getting it. He and the missus aren’t going to take that betrayal lying down. Plus, they can’t afford for anybody to find out about this. Any of it. Goliad is faithful to a fault. He’ll do whatever they tell him, including making sure that nobody lives to tell of it.”
Wilson looked skeptical. “I can’t see them actually ordering a person’s murder.”
“Bet you’ll change your mind if Brynn and Lambert turn up dead.”
Wilson said nothing to that.
“Even if that isn’t the plan,” Rye continued, “there’s Timmy, and Timmy is frigging psychotic. He may do something without being told to. For the hell of it. There’s something off about him, but I can’t nail it.”
“He’s a street kid with an attitude,” Rawlins said, “but, so far, all we’ve got on him is his fight with you. And honestly, if you’d hit me in the face with a fire extinguisher, and I’d had a knife…”
“Okay, Rawlins, point made, but—” Rye gnawed his lower lip. “That first night, in your office, I asked you why I would want to beat up Brady after he’d talked me down through the fog. Remember? You had no answer to that.”
“Okay.”
“Okay. So here’s a question that I don’t have an answer for. If Timmy was up there to guarantee that Brynn returned with the drug that I was flying in, why in hell did he use that laser on me and risk a crash? What was his motivation?”
“Doesn’t need motivation,” Rawlins said. “He’s psycho. You said so yourself.”
“I guess.” Rye put his back to the door and began rubbing his wrists together, chafing against the unbreakable flex-cuffs. “But then today, when I offered to fly them back to Atlanta, shave off hours to get the drug to Hunt in time, Timmy didn’t jump on the idea. He’s scared of flying. That was real, but it’s like he didn’t…”
He stopped, squeezed his eyes shut, and concentrated. “Like he didn’t care whether we got it back in time or not.” Suddenly he had it. “He wanted to crash me. Destroy the plane, destroy the drug. Right?” When neither said anything, he repeated it. “Right?”
“Why would he want to destroy it?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” By now, he was in a desperate struggle to get out of the flex-cuffs. “Get these goddamn things off me. I’m going up there.”
“I told you, we can’t go barging back in there without—”
“Fine. You stay. I’m going.”
Hands still bound, he groped for the door latch and lifted it. The door swung open. He tumbled out backward and landed hard on the pavement.
Chapter 37
5:33 p.m.
Goliad pointed Brynn toward an upholstered bench against the wall outside the sitting room from which she’d been expelled. “Why don’t you sit there while we wait?”
“I’d rather stand.”
“Sit down. Please.”
She sat.
Timmy took up a slouched position against the opposite wall. He produced a knife from wherever it had been secreted, exposed the blade, and began nonchalantly flipping it into the air, letting it turn end on end several times before catching it by the hilt.
Brynn tried to ignore him, but his pastime was unnerving.
Goliad must’ve thought so, too. He said, “Cut it out.”
