Lane showed angry surprise, but recovered swiftly. “And the other fifteen percent?”
Jenna motioned to the three cop cars. “Five percent to each of our other partners. Amos Prior, Sheriff of Miramar County. Detective Ryan Eames, Miramar police. And Zia Morales, senior detective in San Luis Obispo.”
This time, his rage could not remain under wraps. Cold, implacable. He gestured angrily at the car. Immediately the driver emerged, a stone-faced killer in black.
Soon as the driver started toward them, Amos began descending the steps. Jenna showed him an open palm. Amos didn’t like it, but he stopped. And remained standing there. On full alert.
The driver held a small pack, perhaps twice the size of a cell phone. He swept it over her, hairline to T-shirt to jeans. “Clean.”
“Wait in the car.” When the driver retreated, Lane said, “You are sadly mistaken if you think this show of force would impress me. Much less the people I represent.”
Jenna remained silent.
“Accidents can happen, Ms. Greaves. Far removed from any jurisdiction. Out to sea, in a boat repaired by people who have no experience whatsoever in such work.”
Abruptly, Jenna took a giant mental step away from the night’s worry, the tension and fears and regret. All of it miles removed from where she stood. She was now enveloped by the same calm distance that had shielded her through so many hard hours.
This was why she was the one dealing with Lane Pritchard, she realized. Why she had felt so certain she needed to do this. The others would confront. Do what this man probably expected. React with anger. And be defeated in the process.
Lane took her silence as reason enough to continue. “Believe me when I tell you, Ms. Greaves. The people I represent will have this boat.” He lowered his face until she could watch her dual expressions in the lenses of his sunglasses. “They’re going to haveeverything.”
She held her ground. Untouched by his ire. “I don’t understand. They know about the secret safe in the home’s cellar. That gold has mostly been spent. Not to mention how the boat was searched and sunk. If there was anything more to be found, which I doubt, it’s gone now.”
Her calm clearly unsettled him. He leaned away. Studied her from a different angle. “That is not of your concern.”
“So . . . It’s a matter of pride.”
“Pride, revenge, their motives are not the issue here. Your survival is.”
She breathed around the sensation that Millie had joined her. Her sister was part of this now. Without regret or any sense of remorse. As clear a message as Jenna could possibly receive that she was doing the right thing. “Make your offer.”
His rage was gone now. Erased by how she remained untouched. Unscathed. Distant. “One and a half million dollars. Cash.”
“No. Sorry.”
“Did you not hear a word I said?” But Lane’s tone was different. Almost petulant. A man not accustomed to having his power denied. “These people, they will have—”
“I get all that. But look at what you’re facing here.” She pointed to the boat. “Three senior officers. People with clout in their agencies. People who could make a lot of trouble for you and your clients. Which means your offer needs to be high enough to satisfy my partners. Keep them from asking questions. One point five doesn’t even cover our costs.”
He inspected her anew. “Name your price.”
“Three.”
“Impossible.”
“Three would be enough—”
“Out of the question.” He leaned in. Quiet now. “Listen carefully, Ms. Greaves. There is a point beyond which my clients will go silent. Stop with the warnings. You understand?”
There was a faint shimmer to the air between them, a moment where her protection almost dissolved. Then, “So you tell me.”
He took a long moment, then replied, “Two point two five. That is my last offer. And your final chance to walk away intact.”
CHAPTER38
Three nights later, it was all in place. Sol phoned to confirm the funds had been transferred into their joint account. Payment in full.
Wallace was scheduled to arrive around noon the next day, accompanied by his crane and tractor-trailer truck. There to cart away their boat.
