“What?”
“The keys,” he said again, snapping his fingers.
“Why?”
“Because our timetable does not allow for us to be stopped by the police for speeding or otherwise reckless driving.”
“We weren’t stopped on the way over here, were we?”
“By the grace of God. I can’t count on that happening again. Keys please.”
She tossed them to him so hard one of them cut his finger.
“Thanks,” he said tersely.
They climbed in and drove off.
Michelle checked her watch. “Seven thirty already. It’s going to be tight. Sure you don’t want me to drive?”
“Very sure, thanks.”
He sped off and followed the turns Michelle fed him from his notes.
“What’s our plan?” asked Michelle as Sean hung a hard left and pressed the gas pedal back down.
“We have to assume Sam Wingo will come in armed and paranoid. He’ll trust his son, of course. But he won’t trust anyone else.”
“We can’t play judge, jury, and executioner, Sean, not on the spot.”
“Hell, you were the one saying we might have to kill him.”
“I also said it was not my first choice.”
“We have to control the situation. Then we have to get him to trust us.”
“I don’t see either one of those objectives being easily accomplished.”
“They won’t be.”
“But if he came back for his son, isn’t that pretty strong proof he’s innocent?”
Sean looked at her. “Maybe. But it’s not conclusive proof, Michelle. And don’t forget, if he was set up then whoever did set him up will not want him to be able to come back and talk to anyone.”
“And if we’re in the middle of that?”
“Hell, we’re already in the middle of that.”
Michelle pulled her gun from its holster, checked to make sure a round was chambered, then put it away. She let out a long breath. “What if Wingo doesn’t come alone?”
“Who else?”
“Assuming he’s not innocent.”
Sean nodded, looking thoughtful. “The problem is he knows this fishing hole place better than we do.”
“Yeah, but I bet he hasn’t been trained to scope a place in about six seconds, like we have.”
“We’re going to have to split up on this. I’ll be the contact person. You cover me.”