Velocity

mud.

“Karen!”

Dixon’s voice. She made her way back to the front door. The SWAT commander would no doubt be entering the house any minute. But as Vail approached, she realized that wasn’t why Dixon had called her. James Cannon was regaining consciousness.

Dixon was standing a few steps away from him, her SIG drawn and in her right hand, extended and pointed at his chest. Inviting him to make a threatening move.

He pushed himself backward against the front door and now sat half reclined, canted left, his shoulder pressed to the wall. His hands were cuffed behind his back. He did not look comfortable—or pleased.

Vail approached and stopped ahead of Dixon, at Cannon’s feet. She crouched and rested her forearms on her thighs. “Jimmy, Jimmy, Jimmy. You fucked up real bad. You had everything going for you. Working at an up-and- coming winery, possibly slated to be the wine maker in five to ten years if you learned the business well and proved yourself. Forgive me for asking, but what the hell were you thinking?”

Cannon’s right eye narrowed. “You’re not as pretty as I thought you were when we met in the gym. Asking you out . . . yeah, what the hell was I thinking?”

Vail grinned. “That’s good. I believe in giving credit where it’s due. But we don’t have a lot of time here, Jimmy. So I’m gonna come straight with you. I’m serious—was the wine thing a cover or did you really have intentions of being a wine maker?”

Cannon’s gaze fell to his lap. “I took enology in college. I wanted to be a wine maker.”

“Until John Mayfield came into your life. Then you saw something that interested you more. Right?”

Cannon pouted his lips and nodded imperceptibly. A concession without an embarrassing admission.

“Okay, Jimmy,” Vail said. “I understand.”

Jiggle of the door knob. Pounding knock. “Napa County Sheriff’s Department. Captain Dave Nash. Open up!”

“This is Special Agent Karen Vail, FBI. We’re okay in here. Suspect is secured. We’ll be out in a minute.”

“If the suspect is secured, open—”

“My partner’s coming out,” Vail said. She gestured to Dixon, who made her way toward the garage. She would run interference with Nash while Vail finished her interview.

“Jimmy. How much did you work with John Mayfield? Did you know what he was doing?”

Cannon firmed his lips and turned away.

Okay, he’s not ready to answer that one. “Here’s what I think happened. You two found each other in the gym, and Mayfield tested the waters, told you about some animals he’d killed when he was young. And you were interested. More than interested. Intrigued. So he took a risk and told you about some people he’d killed. And it excited you. So he told you more. And it made you feel different, alive, like something woke up inside you. That sound about right, Jimmy?”

Cannon glanced quickly at Vail. “Something like that.”

Vail knew, even with Dixon out front running cover, she didn’t have much time. Time to get to the nuts and bolts.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the photo of Robby. “You recognize this guy?”

Cannon looked at the picture. His gaze remained steady. “I’ve seen him, but I don’t remember where.”

Vail leaned in closer—unwise, for sure, but she couldn’t help herself. “You’ve seen him? When?”

Cannon turned away, his eyes rolling left, then right, then up. “Can’t remember. Recently. Past couple days, I think.”

“What was he doing? Where’d you see him?”

Banging on the door. “Agent Vail, open up. Now.”

“Suspect is wedged against the door. Come in through the garage.” She turned back to Cannon. “Where’d you see him?”

Cannon closed his eyes. “I feel like shit. My head’s gonna explode. Can we do this later?”

Vail clenched her teeth. I’m getting on a fucking plane in about ninety minutes. No, we can’t do this later.

“That’s my last question, Jimmy. Answer it and I’ll see to it they give you something for the pain in the ambulance.”

He let his head fall back against the door.

“Agent Vail.”

Voice behind her. Stern, deep. No nonsense. The guy from the other side of the door. Dave Nash.

She did not turn around. Her eyes were stuck on Cannon’s face like epoxy.

Captain Nash grabbed Vail by her shoulder and moved her back. She lost her balance and fell on her buttocks.

“Can you get the hell out of the way so we can do our jobs?” Nash asked.

Vail pushed herself up. Please, just answer my question. I need this piece to the puzzle. “Where’d you see him?” she yelled.

Cannon tightened his face. “I can’t remember. Now leave me the hell alone. My head’s fucking killing me.”

Vail felt a hand on her arm, leading her away. It was Dixon.

“C’mon,” she said by Vail’s ear.

Vail followed her outside. A mist, foglike and thick, hovered around the first responder vehicle lights. The cool moisture prickled Vail’s cheeks.

The SWAT Peacekeeper, a military-modified Dodge Ram truck sporting an armored shell, was parked in front of the house. Several men milled about, one smoking a cigarette, another leaning against the vehicle. The helicopter hovered above, much louder outside than it had been inside. As Vail craned her head skyward, the H-30 began moving off, the beacon becoming weaker and more dispersed as the craft rose.

Two paramedics, standing beside an ambulance that was parked a dozen feet back of the Peacekeeper, snapped into action and wheeled a gurney to the front door.

“He said he saw Robby.” Vail was watching the scene unfold and spoke so softly Dixon almost didn’t hear her.

“You showed him the photo?”

“He said he’d seen him. Couldn’t remember where.”

Two headlights appeared in the distant darkness, speeding down the street toward them. The vehicle screeched to a halt behind the ambulance. Brix and Stan Owens poured out of the car and headed toward Vail and Dixon.

“Nice of you to tell me,” Brix said to Dixon.

“We were kind of busy responding to the situation. He killed the father and dumped the DB out the back. So we went in.”

“You went in? SWAT was en route.”

“We didn’t think there was time. There were three other hostages.” Owens folded his arms. “Obviously we’re gonna need to discuss that. Later. What’s the current status?”

“Cannon’s in custody.”

Vail said, “I showed him Robby’s photo. He said he’d seen him, but he couldn’t remember where.”

“You believe him?” Brix asked.

Before Vail could answer, Dave Nash joined their circle. “Sheriff,” he said, with a nod at Owens.

“Report.”

“Victim’s in the rear of the property being processed by CSI Bruno Rancelli. Suspect James Cannon’s being treated and readied for transport under guard to Valley Med. He’s in and out of consciousness. Medic’s concerned he might have a subdural hematoma.” Nash glanced sideways at Vail and Dixon. “He apparently took a beating.”

“Necessary force to bring down the suspect,” Dixon said. “And self-defense.”

Owens seemed to notice the bruises on Dixon’s face for the first time. “I don’t think there’ll be a problem with that. But before Rancelli takes off, have him snap some photos of you. CYA.”

“Also,” Nash said, “Cannon wanted me to deliver a message to Agent Vail.” He turned to her and said,