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the far side of the cemetery, not thirty yards from where the service had been held, digging weeds and letting the moist earth seep into his blue coveralls. The mourners had all left except for the two men by the tree. He knew the cop and strongly suspected the guy with the beard was Luke Delaney. Who else could it be, keeping to himself like that—like some kind of criminal.
    Both men made their way down the hill and got into their respective cars. The watcher brushed the dirt from his knee and hurried to his own vehicle, a rented gray Honda. Following at a safe distance, he pulled a cell phone from his pocket. It rang twice before someone answered.
    “Hello,” came the familiar voice at the other end.
    “He’s here. Just like you said he’d be.”
    “Did he contact anyone?”
    “A cop.”
    “Then you’ll have to kill them both.”
    “That wasn’t part of the deal.” He hauled in a ragged breath. He’d been hired to watch and report, nothing else.
    “There’ll be a bonus in it,” his boss told him.
    “What kind of bonus?” The watcher swallowed hard. He didn’t much like the idea of killing a cop, but if the money was right...
    “Ten thousand.”
    “For two men and one of them a cop? No way.”
    “Fifteen thousand.”
    “Twenty.”
    “All right, but that’s it.”
    “Good,” he said, not wanting to sound too anxious. “How do I get the money?”
    “I’ll Express Mail it as soon as I see the pictures.”
    “I have to take pictures?” He rubbed a hand through his damp hair.
    “Is this too much for you to handle?” The voice came with a warning. “If it is, tell me now, and I’ll do the job myself.”
    “N-no. I’ll handle it.” He hung up, his heart beating so hard he thought it would explode in his chest. He’d never killed anyone before—hadn’t ever intended to. For twenty grand, though, he’d do it. It shouldn’t be too hard.
    He slowed his vehicle as Delaney and the cop pulled into the parking lot at the Sea Captain Motel north of town and almost into Lincoln City.
    To avoid detection the watcher drove past, then made a U-turn and went back. He pulled into the lot and parked at the far end near the second exit and across from the covered pool area. The men had gotten out of their cars and were climbing the outside stairs. Delaney stopped at room 229 and inserted a key.
    Once both men had stepped inside, the watcher grabbed his bag and hurried to the pool building. Pleased to find the door ajar, he went into the men’s restroom to change. The musty smell of mold and chlorine made it hard to breathe. Unzipping the coveralls, he stepped out of them and straightened the shirt and jeans he’d worn underneath. The jeans were still damp at the knees. He stuffed the coveralls into his bag and, after using the facilities, went backto his car. While he waited, he took his .45 out of the glove box and thought about how he’d pull off his assignment. He wouldn’t try to kill both men at once. That would be suicide. He’d have to wait until they separated. As soon as the cop left, he’d follow and take him out first. Then he’d come back for Delaney. With the semiautomatic, he’d get the job done and be out of town in minutes. He’d ditch the rental car after wiping away his prints. It would be a cinch.
    Photos. The boss wants photos. Where was he going to get a camera?
    He remembered seeing a drugstore about a block away. He should have time to go there and get back before the two old friends finished yakking. Much as he hated leaving even for a minute, without a picture of the dead guys the shooting would be pointless. The boss had told him there’d be no money unless he had proof.

FOUR
    T he following Friday, Angel Delaney pulled the last box of clothes from her trunk and headed up the walk to her new home. It wasn’t new exactly; she’d grown up here. But according to the real estate contract sitting on the front seat of her Corvette, it was hers. Yes, she was moving in with