“A badass. One Shaw Kinnard. No previous links to Mickey, but he was temporarily affiliated with an outfit here in New Orleans that dealt in guns and drugs, with a sideline in money laundering, which is how Hick and I became familiar with his name.

“Never got a chance to interrogate him, though. There was a nothing-to-sneeze-at body count chalked up to him in the DA’s office. But the limp-dick prosecutor declined to indict. Lack of evidence, he said.”

“Kinnard was let go?”

“Yep. Walked off into the sunset. But a few months ago, he showed up on the radar of the Bureau’s El Paso office. Prime suspect in a homicide. He evaded capture by slipping into Mexico, and nobody down there has been able to collar him, because he was reputedly inside the fortress of a drug kingpin.”

He glanced at the folder lying on the table. He didn’t open it to the gruesome photos, but he told Marsha about the call girl who’d left a house party with the three men, two of which had turned up dead. “One was Kinnard’s host, the other the chief of the state police.”

“Good Lord.”

“The guy was a cockroach. Both victims were. But Kinnard exterminated them in cold blood. That alone took gumption.” He told her about his leaving the bodies within walking distance of police headquarters and about the wave he’d given a security camera in the New Orleans hotel. “Like he doesn’t care if we know he’s back in town. Pisses us off,” he grumbled.

“And he kidnapped Josh Bennett’s sister?”

“Well, he’s gone and she’s gone. Can’t be good.”

“You don’t suppose they’re in cahoots?”

He laughed. “Her with this character? No way. She’s classy. Uptown. He’s just the opposite.”

“People have said that about you and me.”

He bent his head and rubbed his nose in the open collar of her blouse. “I’ve said it myself.” He kissed her neck, then pulled away. “We have to assume that Jordie Bennett is in danger of her life. If he hasn’t killed her already.”

“If he was going to kill her, why didn’t he do it along with Mickey Bolden?”

“I’m afraid to venture a guess. Because he spared the call girl in Mexico from assassination, Hick thinks he may have a soft spot for the ladies.”

“What do you think?”

Joe called to mind the face in Shaw Kinnard’s mug shot, the rigidity of the features, the unfeeling gaze looking directly into the camera. “I don’t think this guy has a soft spot for anything or anybody. Including himself.”

For moments after the cell phone rang, Shaw and Jordie were held in suspended animation. He moved first, opening the flap on his breast pocket and taking out the ringing cell phone while she watched with wide-eyed apprehension.

He put it on speaker and answered. “How’s it hanging, Panella?”

“What the fuck? Who’s this? Where’s Mickey? Why are you answering his phone?”

“I can think of only one reason.”

Shaw had noticed Jordie’s shudder upon hearing Panella’s electronic voice. Maybe he did want to avoid a voiceprint, but Shaw figured he also used the device because he knew it sounded creepy and added to his mystique. Right now, however, he was silent except for the rasp of his breathing.

Then, “You’re Mickey’s second?”

“That’s right.”

“Where’s Mickey?”

“Due to unforeseen circumstances, he had to stay behind.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think you can figure it out.”

“You motherfucker.”

“That’s not my name.”

“He’s dead?”

“Compliments of me. I also took Jordie Bennett,” Shaw said. “Not her corpse. Her. Which means that if you still want her killed, you gotta deal with me.”

Panella let loose a spate of profanities and threats which came through loud and clear despite the garbled voice. “You think you’re awfully smart, don’t you?”

“Well, I outsmarted Mickey. That wasn’t my gray matter left to shovel up.”

“I discouraged your participation.”

“Really? So it was Mickey’s idea to set me up to take the fall for her hit?”

Panella said nothing to that.

“I’m willing to overlook it,” Shaw said, “but because my feelings were hurt, I’m going to need a bit more compensation than Mickey settled for.”

“How do I know you even have Jordie?”

“Come on, Panella, let’s cut this crap. You knew who you were talking to when I answered this phone. You already knew Mickey was dead. By now the story of last night’s events will have been well covered by the media.”

“Not where I am.”

Shaw didn’t believe that, but he let it pass. “Call the Terrebonne Parish Sheriff’s Office. They’ll verify that Jordie was snatched. Homicide detectives will have gotten a description of me, and I’ve probably been identified as Shaw Kinnard.”

“Well, my contract wasn’t with Shaw Kinnard. So I’m under no obligation to honor it. If in fact you did take Jordie, deal with her any way you like. I don’t have to pay you a goddamn penny.”

“That occurred to me, too. But here are some possible consequences of that decision. One, I use her phone to notify the nearest FBI office that she’s alive. A little worse for wear, maybe, but very much alive.”

He paused, but Panella said nothing. Shaw had his attention.

“I leave the phone on so they can track the signal straight to her. By the time they get here, I’ll be long gone, but they’ll be glad to see her. Tickled to have her back in the fold. She was their clubhouse sweetheart for weeks, you know. Cooperative. Chatty. Who knows, maybe this traumatic experience will have jostled loose a memory about you and her brother that slipped her mind the first go-round of questioning.”

“I didn’t tell them anything!” she shouted.

Shaw clicked off the speaker and pressed the phone against his chest. “Shut up,” he hissed. “You fuck this up, I won’t be happy.”

“Like I care.”

“You should. I’m your only chance at life, darlin’.”

She tilted her chin up mutinously, but when she didn’t speak again, he put the phone to his ear. “There, you see? I have her. But her welcome is wearing thin, which makes option two damned tempting.”