LITMIR.BIZ

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reporters. Miami had even sent a news helicopter.

      Bannock was a thickset man who’d been sheriff in the county for twenty-five years. His florid face came from too much drinking, but he ran a tight ship. His iron-gray hair was neatly clipped and he wore a jacket over a Colt .45 he’d carried as an officer during his tours through Vietnam. He looked like somebody’s grandfather with his jeans and cowboy boots, but the mirror sunglasses and no-nonsense attitude were all cop.

      He was also a good friend to her and her dad. He threw a lot of out-of-town business her way with recommendations and business connections he had. Sometimes Kate thought it was because he felt sorry for her, but Bannock always insisted it was because he could trust her to treat people right and not overcharge them or allow them to poach or indiscriminately kill.

      That reminded her of the Mathis party Tyler Jordan had called about.

      “You okay?” Bannock asked.

      “I’m fine,” Kate said.

      “You look a little jacked.”

      “Maybe a little,” Kate admitted.

      “Prison guard Bill Maddox said you took care of everything inside the bus.”

      “Is the other guard going to be okay?”

      “The EMTs had him talking. They tell me he’s going to be fine. Part of that’s because you bandaged him up. A few stitches, a stay at the hospital tonight for observation, he’ll be home this time tomorrow.”

      Kate glanced at her watch. So far she’d been at the site for almost two hours. She still had Mathis to deal with, and guessed that Tyler Jordan was probably beside himself right now. He might even be prompted to quit. She sighed. All she needed was to be left shorthanded with Steven and Hannah coming so unexpectedly.

      “Problems?” Bannock asked.

      “I have a client who’s turned the site I put him on into his own private shooting gallery. Tyler called me this morning. I was on my way out there when this happened.”

      “I’ll send a deputy around when I can. Where’s the site?”

      Kate told him.

      “Don’t know how soon I can get a man there,” Bannock said. “We’re battening down the city, getting ready for this thing. But I’ll have him there as soon as I can.”

      “I appreciate it.” Kate was antsy, feeling the need to go burning through her.

      Bannock wiped his sweating face. “I’m gonna cut you loose, Kate. Ain’t no reason for you to hang around here. If I have any more questions, I’ll give you a call or come by.”

      “Thanks, but since they took my Jeep, leaving’s not exactly an option.”

      “There might be a way,” Bannock said. “Clyde Burris wants an exclusive interview with you.”

      Clyde Burris worked for one of the weekly newspapers out of Everglades City. Kate bought advertising space from him and sometimes allowed him to do interviews with out-of-state clients who wanted a little extra publicity before they returned home.

      “I really don’t like the idea of talking to the news,” Kate said.

      “That’s the good part,” Bannock said. “It ain’t the news. It’s Clyde. And when other media agencies call you, and I guarantee they will because the story’s a good one—‘Local Woman Hero,’ Raymond Jolly, and the unsolved nature of the Desiree Martini kidnapping—you’ll be able to tell them that you’ve granted an exclusive to Clyde.” He paused. “That’s guaranteed to get him picked up on every stringing service across the nation.”

      Kate didn’t doubt that. As she recalled, the Desiree Martini kidnapping had been huge news a few months ago.

      “How’s that going to help me get to my site?” Kate asked.

      Bannock sighed. “I have to do the math for you too? And here I was believing your daddy when he said he raised a bright girl.”

      Not too bright, Kate thought sourly. I married Bryce Colbert and didn’t see him for the louse that he is.

      “Just tell Clyde you’re willing to do the interview in the car on the way to your site. He’s taken all the pictures of a wrecked bus that he can publish. What he needs is a bigger story. Something with a little more homegrown flavor, and a personal look at the ‘hero’ of this little shindig. And Tyler Jordan’s driving one of your trucks, isn’t he?”

      Kate nodded.

      The sheriff spread his hands and smiled. “There you go. You can drop Tyler off at home and keep the truck so you can pick up your kids at the airport. I’ve even provided you transportation. Problem solved.”

      Kate had to admit that the arrangement would work out fine. She wasn’t even surprised that Bannock knew she was picking up Steven and Hannah. It was a small community, and Bannock kept a close watch on things.

      She took a deep breath. “Let me know when you find my Jeep?” It was a point of pride more than anything. She didn’t want Jolly and Shane to get away scot-free.

      “You bet. I’m going to have to keep it in impound for a few days. It’s evidence now.”

      “Sure.” Kate thanked him again, then walked over to Clyde Burris and laid out the deal. The reporter quickly agreed and guided her to his car, changing tapes in his microcassette recorder as they walked.

      By the time she reached the site, Kate felt all talked out. Clyde, slim and nervous and a chain-smoker, had kept at her the entire trip, somehow managing to change radio channels and keep up with all the local breaking news at the same time.

      There was a lot of speculation about what had caused the bus to wreck, from an organized prison breakout all the way to a terrorist attack.

      Clyde had kept returning to that too, but Kate hadn’t been able to tell him any more than she already had. She’d been curious about the blond man with Jolly, though. According to Clyde’s sources, Shane Warren was pulling a thirty-year shot on a drug charge and second-degree-murder rap. Supposedly the Atlanta district attorney was even looking at him for killing an undercover narcotics agent.

      “Not a good guy,” Clyde had summed him up. But the reporter had been curious as to why Shane Warren had ended up with Raymond Jolly.

      When they arrived at the site, Kate thanked the reporter for the ride and got out looking for Tyler. The young man was sitting sullenly in the guide truck listening to a Toby Keith CD. His auburn hair hung down to his shoulders. Aviator sunglasses covered his eyes. His skin stayed red all the time and was covered with freckles. At eighteen, he was short and skinny like his father, but still in possession of out-of-control hormones and way too much male attitude.

      “I’d about given up on you,” Tyler said. His stained straw cowboy hat was more crumpled than creased, and had bright-blue peacock feathers jutting from it. His black T-shirt was festooned with marijuana leaves. Not exactly the kind of message Kate wanted to send out to clients. She could imagine the T-shirt showing up in pictures people showed their friends and family back home.

      “Where’s Mathis?” Kate asked, walking by him. She checked her watch. Damn, but the time was getting away from her. She was going to have to hurry if she was going to pick up Steven and Hannah on time.

      “The cabin. Got back about twenty minutes ago and started drinking. Him and his buddies.” Tyler uncoiled from the four-wheel-drive pickup and got out.

      “Bring the video camera.”

      Remaining sullen, Tyler asked, “Why?”

      “Just do it,” Kate commanded.

      Tyler cursed. For a moment, she didn’t think he was going to do what she said. Then he reached into the truck to get a compact video camera. He reluctantly followed her.

      Kate held a stun baton in one hand. So

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