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“Your wife and Alice Lancer and Alan Draymont, the man she said was asking about directions, were apparently involved in something together,” said Decker. “Lancer and Draymont are dead. They were killed at different times but in the exact same way and left in the exact same spot. But before all that happened Lancer, or someone acting for her, sent your wife a text message telling her to run. And she did.”

The entire time Decker was talking Kelly seemed to be growing smaller and smaller until the couch threatened to swallow him.

“D-dead?”

“If your wife wanted to hide out somewhere, where would she go?” asked White.

Kelly gummed his lips and looked hopelessly confused. “I…I don’t know. I mean, I never thought she would have to hide from anything.”

“Okay, let me recalibrate the question,” said White. “Where would she go to get away from things? Meditate? Chill?”

“We have a little beach cottage in Key Largo. I inherited it from my parents. I call it a cottage but it’s really just a fishing shack. If I fixed it up I could probably get some good money for it, but I never got around to doing that. I haven’t been there in a couple years, but Patty loved it. She could really get away from it all there, she said. And she loved the movie. You know, the one with Bogart and Bacall?”

“Yeah, and the murderous gangster played by Edward G. Robinson,” Decker amended. “We’ll need the address, right now.”

Chapter46

T?HOUGH IT WAS AFTER ELEVEN,they got on the road right away.

“Should we alert the local cops about this?” Andrews asked as they drove off.

Decker shook his head. “No. I don’t want them to spook Kelly into doing something stupid or going even deeper into hiding. Let’s just get there as fast as we can.”

Andrews steered them to I-75 and took it across Florida west to east. Then they turned south on the Florida Turnpike and took it to Route 1.

“Okay, we’re five minutes out,” said Andrews.

Decker looked at his watch. The trip had taken a little over three hours.

“Stop just short of the place,” he said a few minutes later.

They pulled down a narrow lane that paralleled the beach. It was quiet and still, and clouds covered the moon, throwing everything into a grim darkness.

Andrews stopped the car. He said quietly, “It must be that one down there at the end.”

Steve Kelly hadn’t been exaggerating. The homes here really were little more than fishing shacks, some near to falling down, others in little better shape. The tide was coming in and the breakers were noisy.

They got out and started to walk quietly toward the house, keeping off the street.

“There’s her car out front,” said White softly.

It was indeed theSUNNYlicense plate on the white Camry.

Decker took the front, and White and Andrews went around back. The yard was littered with palm leaves and trash and rotting fish heads. The shacks on either side were dark, and there were no cars in front of them. It seemed the only shack occupied was the Kellys’.

Or was it?

Decker edged up to the front door and peered into the small window to the left of the door. He slipped his gun from its holster and placed his finger near the trigger.

He stepped to the side of the door and knocked.

“FBI, Mrs. Kelly, open the door.”

He could hear movement inside.

“I’ve…I’ve got a gun,” said a woman’s tremulous voice.

“So do we,” said Decker. “I’ll slide my credentials under the door. Take a look at them. We need to talk.”


Tags: David Baldacci Amos Decker Thriller