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Jessie reminded herself to breathe.

She was standing on the deck of the Coast Guard Coastal Patrol Boat Halibut, watching as it cut through the water. She squinted and held her hand up to block the sun, which had started to rise.

She glanced at her phone. It was 6:14 A.M. She noticed that she had a voicemail. It was from Dante Moore, the administrator of the Twin Towers Correctional Facility, whom she’d asked to reach out if he had anything new on Mark Haddonfield. She tried to play the message but there was no cell service out here. She’d have to wait until they got back closer to shore. Besides, she needed to focus on this case.

It had taken longer than they would have liked to find Cisco’s boat. After eventually identifying it, the Coast Guard managed to locate the last signal from Cisco’s boat, the Bodacious Tata. But someone had apparently turned off the sailboat’s Automatic Identification System, or AIS beacon around two in the morning.

As a result, the Coast Guard had to use its last known bearing in combination with reports from other vessels in the area to try to lock in a location for the boat. They were now, finally, barreling toward what they believed was the right vessel. She thought she saw it in the distance. Riddell took up a spot next to her.

"The captain says we'll reach Cisco's boat in about five minutes," he said. "He wants to know how we want to play it. Come in loud and make an announcement over the PA system. Or try to sneak up on them and have some divers sneak over?"

Jessie thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t think we can chance sneaking anyone over there,” she said. “This is a big boat. Monica Silver might have already seen it. I think the element of surprise is gone. Plus, that sailboat left last night. If Cisco was in control of the situation, his beacon would still be on. If she’s even still there, we have to assume that she’s in charge. If he’s not already dead, we don’t want to do anything to expedite that outcome.”

“So what, we ask to come aboard and try to talk her down?”

This was the conversation that Jessie had been dreading since soon after they departed King Harbor. But she knew it was inevitable.

“Not ‘we,’” she said. “Just me.”

“What are you talking about?” he demanded, stepping back and glaring at her.

When she responded, she tried to sound as sympathetic to his ego as she could.

“I know your department has jurisdiction, Detective,” she told him gently, “but think about this. If Cisco’s not already dead, he’s probably got some kind of weapon pointed at him right now. And it’s being pointed at him by a woman who believes he, along with a bunch of his buddies, did something terrible to her sister,. Do you really thing that some alpha male coming onboard to talk her down is going to work?”

He paused to consider her words.

“I’ll temper my style,” he said. “You can take lead and I’ll be there for support. Okay?”

This situation was playing out just like the one last night with Oliver Stanton. And just like that time, she was going to have to impose her will on a guy who viewed himself as an investigative badass. She didn’t relish the next few moments, but lives were at stake, and she had to hold firm.

“Still not okay,” she replied. “Just your very presence could set her off. She believes—with good reason—that a group of men harmed her sister. Three years ago, a male police officer dismissed her concerns. Now another male cop shows up, belatedly, to take her into custody. How do you think that's going to go?"

“So what do you want me to do if she lets you onboard alone, just stay over here and twiddle my fingers, hoping she doesn’t shoot or stab my partner? It’s not like we can put a sharpshooter out here in case she loses it. With the waves and the distance, if she makes a sudden move, you or Cisco might end up taking the bullet.”

“I appreciate the concern,” Jessie said, impressed with his seeming sincerity, “but we both know it has to be me going solo. And we also know that I have to go unarmed. If she finds me with a weapon, it’ll ruin any chance of building a rapport with her. I’ll do my best to talk some sense into her. And if that doesn’t work, well, I know how to take care of myself.”

Before Riddell could reply, one of the ship’s officers stepped outside and waved at them.

“The captain says it’s time. They’ll be able to see us by now. And in about sixty seconds, they'll hear us, even with the engines cut. If you want to talk to her, now's the time."