He searched the body and found his wallet and cell phone.

His name was Albert Kingston. Age forty-two. An address in Dallas, Texas.

He stuffed the phone in his pocket. He'd retrieve the latest telephone calls in memory later. It was more important to get rid of the body. He'd kept Kingston busy on the run, and he wouldn't have had time to investigate what had happened to Ned. He had maybe a day before Danner sent someone else to the island to find out why he wasn't hearing anything from Kingston.

And to find Marrok and Ned.

That would give Marrok maybe two days tops to get to Devon Brady before Danner sent his vultures swooping. It would have to be enough.

No, it wouldn't. He had to make preparations. It was going to be a complicated extraction.

He reached for his phone to call Walt Franks to come and get him. After that, he'd phone Bridget Reardon and get her moving toward Devon's home outside Denver.

JANET MCDONALD WAS STANDING ON the porch waiting for them when Nick and Devon drove the SUV through the gate and up to the rambling old farm house.

"She doesn't look very welcoming," Nick murmured. "Do you suppose we have a problem?"

"No more than usual." Devon waved at the housekeeper. She did not wave back. Janet seldom looked cheerful. She was a woman who'd lived a hard life, and her appearance reflected it. She was tall and strongly built, her red-gray hair cut short and her face generally without expression. "She probably missed us."

Nick gave a snort. "Yeah, sure. And pigs fly."

"People don't always show their feelings." Devon turned off the ignition. "Be quiet, Ned. Stop that racket you're making."

"What have you brought home this time?" Janet frowned as she came down the steps. "That's not Gracie I heard barking." She peered into the back of the SUV. "My God, another dog. I thought I was safe when you flew off to that island with Gracie. But, no, you bring me home another dog to take care of."