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Boo Radley gave Cody and Marley a disdainful glance before lumbering over to slide his nine-foot body into the pond. The tupelo trees and moss-covered oaks lining the water shook their leaves in the stiff breeze. “Stay.”

Savannah tugged on Cody’s leash when he lunged. “That gator would swallow you in one bite.”

Hez’s dog believed he was armor-coated and invincible, so walking him was always . . . interesting.

Dominga had joined her to walk the dogs, and Marley, always a perfect gentleman, trotted leisurely at her heels. “Have you talked to Professor Webster—I mean, the other Professor Webster—this afternoon?”

she asked. “Ed, Toni, and I were there yesterday. He looks pretty terrible.”

Savannah guided Cody toward the statue of TGU founder Joseph Willard. “Everything was turning black and blue this morning when I was there. He’s going to look a little like Frankenstein’s monster for a while until his hair grows back to cover that scar, but if that’s the only effect he has from brain surgery, I’ll take it.”

“I’m not even sore today, but it would have been much worse if he hadn’t shown up.”

Dominga held up her phone. “I finally got a new phone too.”

Cody’s short legs stiffened, and he growled ferociously at the statue. Savannah couldn’t budge him an inch. “It’s a statue, Cody, you weirdo.”

She picked him up and carried him past the offending object before putting him in the grass. “Hez will be laid up awhile, and I’m not going to stand by and watch anyone else get attacked. Would you help me, Dominga?”

Her student had always been one of her favorites, and she had a quick brain and great insight. Plus, Jess was working with Toni to keep the Justice Chamber’s investigations going on the financial front while Hez was out of commission. It made perfect sense for Savannah to do the same on the smuggling front.

Dominga’s dark eyes lit, and she gave an enthusiastic nod. “I’d love to!”

“We’ve tried targeting the source of the artifacts in Mexico, and we’ve studied the provenance letters from TGU. Neither avenue has gotten us very far. What if we try catching them when they sell the artifacts?”

“I think you’re on to something. During my research I found some of the websites where the smugglers are offering the artifacts for sale. Their scam is good—very good. They have great pictures of the artifacts for sale as well as PDFs of what appear to be legitimate provenance documents. The descriptions say they represent a private seller and invite offers. From what we could tell, most of the artifacts are bought by legitimate dealers and galleries. They resell them in a more public forum.”

Cody started to eat a decaying piece of hamburger a student had tossed away, and Savannah quickly yanked him back as she tried to temper her excitement at the idea that sprang to life at the details Dominga shared about the sales. “Maybe we could impersonate a dealer or gallery owner and offer a very high bid for an artifact! We could catch them when they deliver the item.”

Dominga’s expression gave nothing away as she thought about it for a moment. “We’ll need to set up a fake company. And it has to look legit to fool these guys. They aren’t dummies. It would be great if we could get someone good enough to put software on the fake company’s website that lets us collect data about anyone who checks us out.”

Savannah’s excitement spiraled into dismay when Cody gagged, swallowed, and licked his lips. She envisioned a night spent cleaning up dog vomit. And worse. She turned back to Dominga. “I think Hez knows a guy who might be able to help. I’ll give him a call.”

Dominga glanced at her phone. “I have class in five minutes. Think you can handle both dogs by yourself?”

“Marley is never a problem. It’s Hez’s demon dog that’s a challenge, but I’ll be fine. I’ll let you know what I find out.”

She reached the bench overlooking the pond and settled onto it holding both leashes. Marley lay down with his head on his paws, watching the ducks gliding on the water. Cody gave an indignant sniff and circled her ankles several times, wrapping the leash around them.

“Cody, you’re a menace.”

Savannah extricated herself and pulled out her phone to place a call to Hez’s hospital room. She’d ordered a phone for pickup from his carrier, which would be easier for him when he got it. Getting to the hospital phone required him to sit up and reach.

“Hello?”

His deep voice sounded a little groggy.

“Were you napping?”

“Savannah.”

His voice gentled. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Sure you were. With your eyes closed, right?”

she teased. From the tender note in his voice, she didn’t doubt what he told her. Her thoughts continually went to that velvet box she’d found in the pocket of his pants and had taken to his condo. She’d wanted to peek at it, but of course she didn’t. Her heart still hurt at how her suspicions had kept him from proposing that night.

He yawned on the other end of the line. “I got off the pain pills right away and am on Tylenol. I don’t want to run the risk of getting hooked on them. My head is pounding, but hearing your voice makes me feel better. What are you doing?”

“I’m walking your crazy dog.”

She told him about Cody’s behavior.

“He’s fun all right.”

“I don’t know if that’s the proper adjective for him.”

She chuckled. “Dominga and I have a plan, but I need a little help. What’s the name of that computer genius friend of yours—the one who helped you defend Jess?”

“Why?”

The caution in his voice came through loud and clear.

If it were possible to keep the plan to herself, she would—if only to keep his blood pressure in check—but she had no choice. “I have a plan, and I think it might work.”

She proceeded to tell him what she and Dominga had discussed.

“Savannah, I don’t want you in danger! Look what happened to me.”

“And I’m not going to stand by and let it happen again. I can’t lose you, Hez. I just can’t. There’s very little danger to this. It will take some time anyway, and I’ll confer with you every step of the way.”

A long silence ensued before he gave a heavy sigh. “Fine. Got a pen?”

She dug a pen and notepad out of her purse. “I’m ready.”

She jotted down the name Bruno Rubinelli as well as the email and phone number he gave her. “Sounds like a mob enforcer.”

Hez chuckled. “Bruno is more dangerous than any enforcer, so tread carefully. If you make him mad, you’ll find your Social Security number up on a billboard in Times Square or somewhere else equally public.”

She dropped her pad and pen back into her purse. “I’d better get out of here. Cody is staring at Boo Radley like he’s daring him to come closer. I have to referee.”

She ended the call in time to pick up Cody and run with him in her arms and Marley on her heels before the gator took up the dog’s challenge.

* * *

Hez wanted to look as professional as possible for his meeting with Hope, and he couldn’t do that wearing a hospital gown and a five-day beard. He didn’t bother trying to make his hair presentable—it would be months before that was possible. His cousin Blake had suggested that he shave the other side of his head and wear a Mohawk for the rest of the semester.

In addition to unhelpful hairstyle advice, Blake had also provided clothing from Hez’s condo and some toiletries, so Hez looked and felt basically presentable. He still tired quickly and his head throbbed if he moved suddenly, but he felt almost normal. Most important, his brain fog seemed to be lifting. He needed to be as sharp as possible by the time Hope walked through his door.

Hope wasn’t just an old friend visiting him in the hospital. She was the prosecutor he had persuaded to get the warrant that led to that embarrassing roadblock a week ago. Coming up empty in a significant operation like that must have been humiliating for her, and it would make perfect sense for her to blame him. He would if he were in her place. So how did he convince her to give him a second chance? Because if he couldn’t do that, the Justice Chamber investigation wouldn’t get very far.

A crisp rap on his door announced Hope’s arrival. “Come in,”

he called.

She opened the door and entered. She wore a conservative navy suit, and her hair was pulled back. “Good to see you, Hez. How are you feeling?”

“As good as can be expected under the circumstances. Better actually.”

He glanced over her attire. “Please tell me you just came from the initial appearance for the guys who put me in the hospital.”

She shook her head. “I wish.”

She perched on the chair beside his bed. “I did just come from court though, and the hearing would have interested you. It was a scheduling conference for Deke Willard’s murder case.”

Hez arched an eyebrow. “Murder? Of Beckett Harrison?”

She nodded. “We got the indictment last week, thanks to a jailhouse snitch, who is now in protective custody, of course. He wore a wire and got Deke to confess to calling the hit on Harrison and making it look like a suicide. The guy couldn’t help bragging.”

“They never can.”

Hez held out his fist. “Congratulations!”

She smiled and bumped her fist against his. “Thanks. Deke’s lawyer is already sniffing around for a plea bargain.”

“So your boss will get his murder conviction after all—though probably not the way he wanted it.”

She sighed. “A win is a win, but I’m sure he would have preferred something splashier.”

Hez kept his tone casual. “Maybe we can give it to him.”

Her brows went up. “Oh? How can we do that?”

“By bringing down that smuggling ring. We’ve got a couple of promising new angles, but we’ll need your help.”

She groaned. “That’s what you said last time. It didn’t turn out well.”

“I know, but this time will be different. Really.”

That sounded pathetic, so he hurried on. “We’re approaching the smuggling pipeline from a couple of different angles.”

He told her about Savannah’s idea and Ed’s renewed contact with his source. “I don’t think we’ll need another roadblock or anything like that.”

She drummed her fingers on the chair’s padded vinyl armrest. “Are you going to need another warrant?”

“Um, maybe.”

She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I won’t be able to get one based on the same anonymous source who was wrong last time.”

“I’m not sure he was wrong. We know there’s a mole in the PHPD. What if that’s not the only one?”

She gave a quick nod, like she’d already considered the possibility. “Could be, but it won’t help me get a warrant. I’ll need enough supporting evidence to show probable cause, and the bar will be higher this time because of what happened last week.”

“I understand. What will you need?”

“I probably have to talk to the source myself.”

Hez chewed his lower lip. He’d been afraid she would say that. Was Ed’s source desperate enough to reveal himself? Or would he cut off all contact and go into hiding? And even if he was willing to talk to Hope, would he even survive long enough to make a statement?

“I’ll see what we can do.”