Page 73 of Reckoning (FBI Thriller 26)

“Not that you were a dog before, but the disguise really boosts your chick rating. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve got a ways to go to get to Colin Firth in his heyday but it’s a definite improvement.” She laughed, punched his arm.

Music to his ears. She was the first woman he’d met who hadn’t ranked his damned face number one of her list, who only cared he looked like some idiot sex god. Griffin beamed at her, saw she was surprised by his reaction. He couldn’t very well tell her he was relieved she didn’t think he was anything out of the ordinary. He said, “Moving right along. Too bad it’s not winter, we could stay and ski. Or maybe you’d like to hike? Stupid question, you’ve probably hiked every inch of the outback.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Well, not every inch. There are lots of rocks and boulders. Now, our Greenbrier brochure says the hiking here is great. Maybe when this is all over, we can come back and roam the trails, maybe fish for trout, though I never seem to catch anything, so forget that. But go camping with me and you’ll be awed. I can set up a tent, make dinner and coffee while you’re brushing your teeth. Just like that,” and she snapped her fingers.

He didn’t want to be charmed by her, but he was. Here she was, a woman who didn’t run from danger, a woman who was now racing toward another cliff, this one with Melissa Kay standing on top, undoubtedly a psychopath who’d find pleasure in shoving her over with no hesitation at all, a smile on her face.

Griffin turned his full attention back to sawing safely back and forth on the switchbacks. He came around a curve to see a bright red Chevy in front of them, the driver going really slow, being careful with his load of kids inside. Griffin eased back, gave the Chevy lots of room. He said, “Kirra, let’s say you recognize Melissa Kay’s voice, that you’re sure it was her. There’s still Ryman Grissom. It’s likely he was the one with her that night, but you can’t be sure, can you? But we’re sure he’s a hired killer—Eliot Ness texted Jeter who texted Savich and me that Oliveras hired Ryman to kill Misha Misel and the young woman who was with him, then he reported back to Oliveras that it was done. It’s a shame we have no proof because Eliot Ness dropped his cell phone and it broke.”

It burned her to the bone that Oliveras and Ryman Grissom might both already be in jail if she hadn’t been such a klutz. When Kirra answered, her voice was dead serious. “I could drug Ryman, fly him in a private jet to Australia, haul his butt deep into the outback, and threaten to leave him there unless he confesses all his sins. Think that would work?”

“You can fly a jet?”

“No, only props. Well, truth is, it’s been a while. I was sixteen and I practiced only twice with Uncle Leo sitting next to me.”

“A prop wouldn’t make it, anyway. Do you know anyone with a private jet who’d fly you and Ryman to Australia? And what drug would you use on him?”

“All right, so there are a few challenges, but I know it would work. Sure Ryman’s a psychopath, but he’s also a coward. It would scare the crap out of him to wake up in the blistering sun thinking about all the snakes and crawling critters eyeing him like a four-star restaurant. Maybe I could find a creek that’s home to a couple of crocs. Hmm, should I leave him any water?”

Griffin liked how the touch of Aussie in Kirra’s voice grew stronger when she talked about Australia. He said, not looking away from the road, “Let him drink out of the creek with the crocodiles.”