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I dropped the phone on the desk and stood there, frozen in shock. I couldn't think, I couldn't move, and I couldn't figure out what to do. My mind was babbling at me. It couldn't take one more thing; I had to call Jake and get help.

But he said he'll kill Nathan. I have to handle this myself.

I dug my nails into my palms, trying for clarity of thought. How did this make sense? How did it fit together? Why didn't it work?

The puzzle pieces were all wrong. The tingly feeling in my head was exploding.

If I get Charlie to sign that agreement, how will that help them? They know I'll tell the police about all of this at some point. They can't threaten me for the rest of my life.

"Yes, they can. If the rest of my life is measured in hours now, not years. They can't let Uncle Nathan go. They can't let me go. They'll have to kill us. Or make it look like we committed suicide, like Ziggeran," I muttered to myself.

I automatically grabbed my purse and headed for the door, still thinking out loud. "They can't even let Charlie live, unless he signs, no questions asked. Even then, they might consider him a loose end."

So Sarah was in on the coverup. BDC must have one hell of a kickback scheme going on to get a top plaintiff's attorney to go along with something like that. I flew out the door and out to my car, then shoved the key in the ignition and took off.

I was heading for the marina. I'd call Charlie on the way. I couldn't put his life in jeopardy, too. I fumbled for my phone and dialed.

"Hey, hello," Charlie said.

"Charlie, it's December. Look, get out of your house. I know it sounds odd, but there are some very bad people threatening us. They have . . . well, they want me to force you to settle your case. But I have a conflict now, and I can't talk to you about your case. I need – I need," I fumbled, wondering what to say.

Then the perfect solution flashed into my brain.

"I need you to fire me."

"What? What are you talking about? Hey, hold on, there's somebody at the door," he said.

I'd nearly missed the turn to the marina, so I focused on screeching around the corner. But then what he'd said penetrated the fog in my brain. "No! Don't answer the door!"

I was too late. I heard shouting, then crashing noises, and then a strange voice came on the line. "Vaughn? You blew it. Get down to the marina now, and you'll have a chance to save the old man."

He slammed the phone down, and I choked back a cry. If they hurt Charlie . . .

I drove the rest of the way to the marina with grim determination, trying desperately to think of a way to save Nathan — trying frantically to put the pieces together. Why would such big-name hotshot lawyers go to such lengths over a single case? They could have pinned the cover-up entirely on BDC, probably.

Why agree to the coverup in the first place, for that matter? Could it really all be about money?

What about Harold Punter/Parker? He's not even with BDC. What if BDC has nothing to do with any of this?

But the suspicion forming in my mind was so monstrous, I couldn't wrap my brain around it.

Just before I pulled into the darkened parking lot, I called Jake. His cell rang straight into voice mail. "Look, I can't talk. But they've got Uncle Nathan, and I have to go to Sarah's yacht, alone, to get him. It's Greenberg, definitely, and probably Langley, too. They got Charlie, Jake. I – if I don't survive this, you make sure you get them for me."

My throat closed up, and I had to force out the words. "Tell Aunt Celia I love her." Then I flipped the phone shut and shoved it down the front of my shirt and tucked it into my bra. The shirt wasn't snug, so maybe nobody would notice.

Maybe I'd be able to call somebody when I was singing with the fishes.

I screeched to a stop and jumped out of the car, trying to send psychic "be strong" vibes to Nathan, who was almost certainly on that boat. As I ran over toward the TORTFEASANCE, three men stepped out of the shadows to flank me. They didn't follow me up the ramp to the boat, but they stood guard at the bottom.

If I hadn't already known it, that would have convinced me. I was never getting off that boat alive.

I followed the lights to the stateroom. Langley and Greenberg stood by the bar, arguing with each other. They stopped when they saw me. I walked further in the room and saw Uncle Nathan, tied to a chair and with a bloody smear on the side of his face. I ran over to him and knelt down. "Oh, Uncle Nathan! Are you all right? I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," I said, crying.

He tried for a smile. "I'm fine, honey. This is the most excitement I've had in years. It'll be good for a book plot, won't it?"

I saw in his eyes the knowledge that there might not be any more books, and my terror sharpened into pure fury. I leaned closer and murmured in his ear. "Watch for my sign. We're going to get out of this, I promise."

Sarah laughed. "Whispering comforting words to your uncle, December? Too bad you couldn't have listened to all our warnings. If you'd just gotten out of this case like we told you to, your uncle would be safe at home in his bed."

Langley elbowed her. "Shut up, Sarah. We don't need to admit anything."

I stood slowly, back to them, scanning the room for something – anything – I could use as a weapon. There was nothing.

Where are the fireplace pokers when you need them?

Somebody on the deck shouted, but it cut off quickly. Then we heard a scuffling noise, and my old buddy Captain Karl shoved Charlie into the room. "Here's your other friend, Miss Greenberg."

Charlie's hands were tied behind his back, and his face was a bloody mess. I clenched my hands into fists, but tried to appear calm. I put all my contempt into my expression and sneered at Karl. "Still jumping to her bidding and even calling her Miss Greenberg, after she quit banging you?"

Sarah's eyes widened, and Karl's head whipped around to fix me with a menacing glare. "You know nothing. Shut up."

Langley, meanwhile, was staring at Sarah in disbelief. "You and Karl? That's disgusting. Sleeping with the hired help. Yet another example of your extremely bad judgment," he snarled.

She backed away from him. "How dare you talk to me about poor judgment? I had this all resolved. She was going to bring us the signed settlement papers, and we could have left Deaver alone. But you sent your thug to grab Deaver, too. Don't you think it's going to look suspicious when these people disappear?"

This is great. Keep fighting, you morons.

I stared at Charlie, trying to send a mental signal. We had to be ready for any chance.

Langley loomed over her. "Me? My bad judgment? Are you insane? You sent people to vandalize her car and shoot at her house? Plus the idiot with the allergies? You're a joke as a criminal mastermind, let me tell you."

Charlie was slowly sidling toward me when, suddenly, they both seemed to notice.

"Stop right there, Deaver," Langley said, producing a small but deadly looking pistol and aiming it at me. "I'll happily shoot your lawyer right now." He laughed, a little hysterically. "Although maybe you wouldn't mind that. Who cares about a few dead lawyers, right?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "You're losing it, Addison. Shut up. We'll get far enough out, and we'll dump them."

I heard the boat's engines revving and realized Karl had vanished.

"Get far enough where?" I said, looking out the window, where the dock slowly got further away from the boat. Or, probably, the other way around.

She laughed. "Far enough out to sea to dump your dead bodies."