“She told me some things I didn’t know about that,” said Campbell quietly, a distinct level of chagrin in his voice.

  “So are you second-guessing your opinion of Clare Robards, sir?”

  “She devoted most of her life to him, Devine. Carried and raised three children. Fought every political battle with him side by side.” The former general paused. “I guess I don’t have the right to judge her, because I’ve never been in her circumstances. The bottom line is she’s a good person who did right by Curt for a long time. And he was not easy to get along with. Now, that is something I can opine on, having known him all those decades. He was as loyal a friend as you would ever want, but if you got on his bad side it was a battle to the death. And as a politician he was ruthlessly ambitious. Sometimes to an extent that it clouded his judgment. And the higher up he went in the political food chain, the more he was apparently willing to do in order to stay there. He and I had sharp words on the subject, but still maintained our friendship.”

  “Sounds like the marine who never could take losing on the battlefield carried that same standard to running for office,” opined Devine.

  “Yes. But if one compromises one’s principles in the bargain? You have victory without honor, at least in my opinion.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “So anything new to report?” asked Campbell.

  “I met with Alex. I told her about Jenny using her government resources to find out who had raped her.”

  “What did she say to that?” Campbell wanted to know.

  “It’s not so much what she said as what she did.”

  “I’m not following. What did she do?”

  Devine explained about her collapsing. “At first I thought she had passed out. But when I went to help her she started screaming at me to leave her alone, to get off her. Then she started punching and kicking.”

  “My God, was she having some sort of seizure? Did you make her understand that you were not attacking her?”

  “The thing is, I don’t believe she was addressing me.”

  “Who then?” asked a clearly confused Campbell.

  “I think what I told her prompted her to have some sort of an unconscious memory episode. That’s the only way I can think of to describe it,” said Devine.

  “Wait, do you mean your discussing the attack again made her, what, relive it?”

  “Yes. I think she was defending herself against her attacker. When she finally came around she had no memory of any of it. I didn’t tell her what she said or did. I’m not a psychiatrist. I didn’t want to mess her up even more.”

  “No, you did the right thing. Now, Devine, did she mention a name or give you any clue as to who it might have been?”

  “No, nothing like that.”

  “And you’re certain that whoever killed Jenny attacked Alex?” asked Campbell.

  “Not only am I sure of that, but also, based on something else Alex told me, I’m pretty sure the person who attacked Alex and killed Jenny also murdered Alberta Palmer.”

  Campbell blurted out, “How do you figure that?”

  “Alex had an episode like she did with me today, with Bertie, two days before she was killed. Only I think Bertie got lucky where I didn’t.”

  “You mean Alex named the person who attacked her?” said Campbell.

  “Or at least gave enough information that allowed Bertie to figure it out.”

  “You think she confronted the person?”

  “I do. And if I’m right, we saw the person’s homicidal reaction,” noted Devine.

  “Two murders tied to Alex’s rape. Which means you could be a target,” added Campbell.

  “I’ve been a target ever since I stepped foot in this place. Okay, since you brought that up, anything new on the mole? Or the woman from Geneva?”

  “Yes and no.” Campbell paused. “I blame myself.”

  “What do you mean?” said Devine sharply.

  “My admin assistant has vanished.”

  “What’s her name and what happened?” asked Devine.

  “Dawn Schuman. And we don’t know what happened to her. She didn’t show up for work yesterday. We called and then sent a team to her house. Her car was missing and it seems as though she had packed a bag. We have alerts out on her everywhere but so far nothing.”

  “And why do you blame yourself?”

  “Because I knew something was off and I did nothing about it. She’d gotten divorced and there was a custody dispute over her kids. And she was struggling financially. She had confided in me some of these personal issues. I should have followed up with our security folks to keep an eye on her but I didn’t.”

  “Because her personal issues could have compromised her?”

  “Yes, and now with her disappearance, I think she might well have been compromised.”

  “And she knew about my movements?” said Devine.

  “She arranged your travel while you were overseas, and also your itinerary for Maine.”

  “But why run now?” asked Devine.

  “They might have asked for something she was unwilling to give. Or she felt guilty, or scared that we would find out once we began our internal security audit. Ironically, her fleeing was what made us look at her.”

  “They might have grabbed her and made it look like she left voluntarily.”

  “Trust me, Devine, I had thought of that possibility. Should I send you reinforcements?”

  “No. That’ll just spook our killer and then the guy goes even deeper underground.”

  “Well, be careful.”

  “I’m not sure that’s going to get it done, sir,” replied Devine before clicking off.

  CHAPTER

  52

  DEVINE COULD NOT SLEEP THAT night. The rain beating down on the roof, normally a soothing white noise, simply served to pound relentlessly into his head, and also into his thoughts.

  A mole in Campbell’s organization had likely helped put a bullseye on his back. There were forces up here who wanted him dead. And he had a murderer that hopefully he was closing in on. And while he had fought battles on two fronts before, it had never been quite like this.

  He gave up the attempt at sleep, got dressed, grabbed his gun, and headed out, running to his SUV through the rain and cranking up the heat once he got inside. The trip he was about to take was not all about his insomnia. He needed to follow up on a possible lead that he had failed to do before.

  He headed through the darkened streets. He didn’t know if he would again see what he had glimpsed once before, but he had his fingers crossed that he would. It might not be connected to Jenny’s death, but he couldn’t rule it out until he knew a lot more. And it was intriguingly odd; that alone deserved scrutiny.

  Devine approached the spot where he’d been when he’d lost sight of the boat he’d seen before. That time he’d become distracted by seeing Françoise Guillaume drive by and following her to the mansion where she lived with her brother.

  No distractions tonight, at least I hope not.

  He parked off the road, killed his lights, and waited. An hour later he had just about given up hope and was getting ready to head back to the inn when he saw it.

  The light was quite a ways out on the water, but as he watched, Devine judged that it was definitely heading toward shore.

  He started the SUV and, driving without his lights on, he moved slowly down the road in the direction of where he had roughly calculated the landing spot to be.

  It was a long ride at a slow speed while his focus was on the light out at sea. A few minutes later the rising winds cleared the dense cloud coverage and the light, which Devine had lost sight of for about a minute, reappeared farther down the coast. He pointed his ride that way, and soon the light became more and more vivid, like a star fallen into the ocean.

  He finally pulled to a stop along an isolated stretch of coastline. He figured he was about six miles north of Putnam at this juncture.

  Directly east, across the Gulf of Maine, lay Nova Scotia. Directly north was New Brunswick, which Devine knew was separated from Nova Scotia by the Bay of Fundy.

  His gaze fixed steadily on the approaching boat light, Devine got out of the Tahoe, hurried toward the rocky shore, and took up position behind a stand of white pines that had been battered and deformed by the stiff ocean wind. He placed a hand against one of the lean, bristly trunks.

  He thought, If this is just a fishing boat and I’ve wasted time and sleep for nothing?

  Devine tensed as the boat drew ever closer to shore. He wondered how they were going to manage it, because the coastline here was every bit as rocky as the one back in Putnam, and the breakers were not going to be easy to navigate.

  He once more drew out his military-grade optics. They were the latest generation of surveillance technology, cost a fortune, and were worth every dime.

  He squared up on the boat. The vessel didn’t appear to be a lobster boat, at least not like the ones he’d seen at the harbor in Putnam. It was larger and sleeker and had sophisticated sat-nav tower modules mounted on the pilothouse roof. He didn’t see anyone on deck and the pilothouse glass was darkened. He scanned the portside of the boat for ID markers but saw none. The boat had been powering along all this time, but as it grew closer it suddenly slowed and then stopped so abruptly a stiff stern wake jostled it.

  As he watched, a smaller boat was lowered from the port side, and he saw three figures board it. And then several crates were passed down to the people on the smaller boat. One of them sat in the rear and operated the outboard motor and tiller. The small boat headed directly to shore.

  Devine took out his phone and filmed this through his optics so it was as magnified as possible. He looked to the spot on land where the boat was headed and thought he saw movement there. He looked through his optics and confirmed at least one person standing at a spot near the shore. The person was moving a light up and down, clearly signaling to the boat.

  Right as the vessel reached the breakers Devine heard something behind him. Coming from the south on the road were twin lights as a vehicle raced through the dark. He used his optics and saw that it was a black Cadillac Escalade, the same type of vehicle in which he’d been kidnapped.

  Shit.

  Devine hoofed it to his SUV, jumped in, and fired it up. He saw in his rearview that the Escalade was bearing down on him now. He pulled onto the road and punched the gas, making his tires squeal against the pavement as they strained to gain purchase. The Escalade countered this move by speeding up.

  His ride was lighter and nimbler than the Escalade, but had nowhere near the horsepower. He knew this to be true because, despite his pressing the accelerator to the floor, the Escalade closed the gap with authority and rammed him from behind.

  Devine fought to keep control of the Tahoe, but it was difficult on the rain-slicked road. And then a sudden gust of wind sent dead leaves and other debris barreling across the road, nearly blinding him. That was troubling but manageable. Far more problematic were the shots fired through his back glass, shattering it. The bullets passed uncomfortably close to him on either side before exiting out the windshield, leaving three small holes and one larger one, and an accompanying long crack in the glass as grim evidence of their passage.

  Devine slipped out his gun, rolled down his window, pointed his Glock behind him, and fired six shots left-handed and blindly at the Caddy.

  It did absolutely no good. A crescendo of shots pinged all over the interior of his SUV, forcing him to duck while still trying to see to drive. His vehicle went off the road before veering back on as Devine tried desperately to get out of the way of the shooter’s sight line.

  As he got the Tahoe back under control, the Escalade sped forward and came up next to him. His window was now parallel with the front passenger-side window of the Escalade.

  The window on the other vehicle slid down and Devine saw a man sitting there wearing a black ski mask. He didn’t focus long on the man but turned his attention to the biting end of the side-by-side shotgun, which was pointing right at Devine’s head.

  Devine slammed on the brakes a split second before the shotgun roared, and the buckshot load passed harmlessly in front of his windshield.

  Devine put the Tahoe in reverse, punched the gas, and hurtled backward for about fifty yards. He next performed a J-turn by tapping the gas and brake at precisely the right moments, and spun the steering wheel just as he’d been taught in the military during evasive maneuvers training. He’d done it back then in a three-ton armored Humvee the size of a hippo. By comparison, the Tahoe was not much of a challenge. He drove off going south, back toward Putnam.

  However, the Escalade driver performed the exact same maneuver and impressively did it even more tightly than Devine had managed. In his rearview Devine saw the rear driver’s side window come down, and the muzzle of an MP5 poked out as the Escalade soared after him.

  Devine wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this development, only that he wasn’t going to sit there and go down quietly. He dropped back and was about to ram the larger vehicle as it came up beside him when a series of shots rang out. Only the shots weren’t coming from the Escalade.

  The big SUV immediately swerved and went off the road in a swirl of mud and flying leaves. Devine checked his rearview again; the Escalade appeared to be out of the chase.

  He floored it and drove straight back to Putnam. When he got to his room he texted Campbell. He didn’t expect an answer but he got one a minute later.

  Glad you’re all right. Hunker down for the night.

  Devine texted back a reply and then started to wonder who had fired the shots that had saved his life.

  And then a moment later he realized he had forgotten all about the boat coming to shore.

  He slumped back on the bed and groaned.

  And then his phone rang. The retired general must have thought of something else.

  Only it wasn’t Campbell.

  And Devine wasn’t going to be hunkering down.

  CHAPTER

  53

  ANNIE PALMER SOUNDED STRESSED.

  “Travis, can you come over?” she said. “I know it’s late. But I really need you.”

  “Okay. Where do you live?”

  “Not my place. I’m still at Alex’s. She asked me to stay.”

  “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. She’s… I don’t know what to call it. But she’s not in a good place.”

  “Should you call 911?” snapped Devine.

  “She’s not sick or injured or anything. She’s just… mentally, something is going on. Please, can you come?”

  “I’m leaving right now. Where’s Dak?”

  “I have no idea. I checked, he’s not asleep in his room. And his bike isn’t here. He’s probably out getting drunk and screwing somebody. Please hurry!” she implored.

  He drove his SUV as fast as he could while still maintaining control. It was freezing inside with the back window shot out, and the crack in the windshield was spreading. He cranked the heat up high and tried to ignore the chill.

  He slid to a stop in front of Jocelyn Point, jumped out, and double-timed it to the front door.

  Palmer was waiting for him there.

  “Where is she?” said Devine.

  “In her room.”

  She led him up the stairs and tried to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. She looked fearfully at Devine. “I left it unlocked.”

  Devine pushed past her and rapped on the wood. “Hey, Alex, it’s Travis. You in there? You okay?”

  There was no answer but Devine could hear an odd sound coming from inside the room.

  “I just want to talk, okay? I’ve got some things to tell you. Stuff I found out. Open the door, okay?”

  There was no response.

  Devine put his ear to the door and listened for a few moments, while Palmer stood there frozen, her eyes filling with tears.

  “Alex!” barked Devine.

  “Do… do you think…” began Palmer, but Devine wasn’t listening.

  He stepped back a few feet and then charged forward, throwing his bulk against the door. It burst open and he was inside the room. He scanned every inch and saw that the window was open and the drapes were flapping in the wind. That must have been the sound he’d heard. He raced to the window and looked down, his heartbeat thumping in his ears.

  Please, God, no. No.

  She wasn’t down there. He breathed a sigh of relief and then looked at Palmer, who was standing next to him.

  “Was she here when you came down to answer the door?”

  “Yes, she was lying all curled up in the bed.”

  “Her bathroom?”

  “Down this way.”

  They rushed out into the hall when they both heard a noise. Overhead.

  “What is that?” asked Palmer in a hushed tone.

  Devine looked up at the ceiling. And then it dawned on him.

  “Oh my God!”

  “What? What’s wrong?” cried out Palmer as Devine rushed to the stairs and ran pell-mell up them. “Where are you going?” she called out, running after him.

  Devine burst through the door leading outside and then pulled up abruptly.

  Palmer ran into him and bounced off Devine like she’d hit a wall.

  Devine didn’t even notice the impact with the woman. His attention was in front of him.

  “Hey, Alex.”

  She was standing there in a white nightgown that swirled around her long, pale legs with the rush of the wind. She didn’t turn or acknowledge him. Palmer came to stand next to Devine.

  “Oh, Lord,” she whispered in a fearful tone.

  Her fright was understandable.

  Unlike them, Alex was standing on the outside of the widow’s walk, right near the edge of the roof. It was at least a forty-foot drop to the ground.

  “Hey, Alex, it’s me, Travis. Can we talk?”

  She still didn’t look at him, but her head turned just a bit, as though she had heard him over the wind.