Nate tried to conceal his alarm. Meanwhile his mind was darting about in search of an excuse. He took a deep breath and drew himself up. “Gentlemen, Brynn’s conduct this morning is uncharacteristic of the professional I know. But I don’t believe for a moment that she was involved in any law-breaking activity last night, or today, or at any time, although I don’t have the same confidence in the integrity of the man with whom she shared several hours in a cabin.

“I’m certain that Brynn will soon come to her senses and resume her responsibilities to our patient. If she doesn’t, she’ll suffer consequences which could impact her professional future. I have a substantial amount of influence at the medical facility with which we’re both affiliated.”

He looked at his watch, then shot his cuffs.

“Now, I appreciate your commitment to your duty. I admire you for conducting such a thorough investigation into the assault on Mr. White. But, presently, you really must excuse me. I have an appointment.”

“And we have a search warrant,” Rawlins said.

Nate’s sphincter clenched. “You have a search warrant?”

“For the box.”

“Wh…why did you feel it necessary to obtain a search warrant on Thanksgiving night?”

“Because we thought you might balk.”

“I beg your pardon. I do not balk.”

“Sheriff’s office here cooperated,” Wilson said. “We stopped at the judge’s house to get the warrant signed.”

Rawlins produced it from an inside breast pocket of his puffer jacket, unfolded it, and held it out for Nate to read. “Open the box, Dr. Lambert.”

The more he protested, the worse it would look for him. Recognizing that, he backed into the office and motioned them toward the desk. Trying to keep his hands steady, he scrolled the dials on the padlock and opened it. He raised the metal lid.

Rawlins pulled on a pair of latex gloves and methodically removed the sealed test tubes, examining each one before placing it on the desk, leaving four circular cutouts in the foam.

“There,” Nate said. “What did you expect to find?”

Ignoring him, Rawlins dug his fingers into the edge of the foam and began working it up and away from the metal. “Let’s see what’s under here.” He pulled the lining up and out.

Nate’s slick, shiny head broke a sweat.

6:02 p.m.

The room had been booked in Dash’s name, his real name, the one on his platinum card. That could be advantageous if anyone were to canvass local hotels in search of a Rye Mallett or Brynn O’Neal.

It was a chain hotel near the airport. Rye had to show the checkin clerk his photo ID, but the harried young man gave it only a cursory glance, which he wasn’t likely to remember. He was overrun with demanding complainers who had set up camp in his lobby while waiting for either a room to become available or for the airlines to put them on a flight, whichever came first.

Rye wouldn’t have been all that surprised if Brynn had pulled a vanishing act while he was checking in, but she was waiting for him at the elevator bank as agreed. They rode up in silence and got out on the seventh floor, which was blessedly quiet compared to the mob scene in the lobby.

They went into the room. Rye flipped the bolt. She switched on a lamp on the nightstand, then faced him, bristling. “Was it really necessary to throw my phone away?”

On the drive from downtown, he had asked to see her phone. Without asking why, she’d handed it over. Then before she could stop him, he removed the SIM card and tossed the phone out the car window.

“You want Goliad and Timmy coming after you again?”

“Their company might be preferable.”

He tapped his chest. “I’m the one who has the right to be angry. You don’t get to be mad till I’m finished.”

“Then get on with it.”

He tossed his coat onto the bed. “Your SIM card is intact. You’ve got all your data. You can buy a new phone tomorrow.”

“In the meantime a patient could have an emergency.”

“So check in with your answering service periodically. I’ll lend you my phone to call them.”

She simmered, and he let her. Then she asked, “How did you get my number to text me?”

“I asked Marlene for it. Told her I would let you know when I’d be going back up there to take Brady flying.”

“Have you gotten an update on him from her?”

“No. You?”

She shook her head. “I suppose it was she who told you about my dad?”

“I had assumed he was a cop. Ha!”

“You heard he was a thief, and thought ‘like father, like daughter.’”

“Prove me wrong, Brynn.”

“I don’t have to prove a damn thing to you.”

In angry strides, he walked toward her. “Aren’t I entitled to know what you dragged me into?”

“It’s irrelevant now.”

“Is it?”

“Nate has the box, doesn’t he?”

“What excuse did you give him for cutting out? Did you tell him you were meeting me?”

“No. I lied.”

“You’re good at that.”

Rather than taking offense as he expected, she looked chagrined and actually backed up to sit on the foot of the bed, shoulders slumped, head drooping. “Obviously not all that good,” she said ruefully. “You saw through me from the start.”