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prison computers. Like someone has maybe planted a virus. I don’t know much about computers, and I think I’m going to need to bring someone in from off the island to look at it. I wanted to check with you guys first to see if you think Blake could have had anything to do with it.”
    â€œWish I could help,” King said. “Blake didn’t talk much about any computer stuff.”
    This was true…at least when Blake was alive. Blake was saying plenty now with emails from the dead.
    â€œGot nothing,” Johnson said. “Sorry sir.”
    â€œGot nothing is bad grammar,” Murdoch said. “And son, I have to say that bad grammar irritates me. What’s next, walking around with your pants half down so that the entire world sees your undershorts?”
    That’s when something struck the worm on the line in the water. The tip of the rod dipped abruptly.
    Without thinking, King gave the rod a quick yank to set the hook. He’d done it so many times, the reflex had become second nature.
    King immediately regretted his instinctive move. The last thing he wanted at this moment was a fish on the line.
    Too late.
    The tip of the rod moved in small circles, and where the line went into the water, larger circles cut through the surface.
    The fish was securely hooked.
    But it couldn’t make much of a run. There was too much weight at the end of the line, four feet below the hook. A heavy magnet and whatever might be stuck to it.
    â€œDon’t be slow,” Murdoch said. “Let’s see what you have.”
    King would have been okay if he lost the fish. He wouldn’t have been okay if the line snapped. Then either the fish would be stuck to a magnet until it died, or if it was big enough, the fish would drag the magnet and whatever it held out into the middle of the reservoir.
    By the way the end of the rod was bent, this was not a small fish.
    King could feel the fish try to move toward the dock. Maybe looking to wrap the line around one of the supporting posts. That told King the fish was big enough to be smart enough.
    He reeled hard, and the back of the fish broke the surface of the water as it flapped.
    Johnson rescued them. He’d already taken the fishing net and scooped it into the water beneath the fish.
    With King lifting the rod higher and Johnson taking the weight ofthe fish with the net, they brought the fish in. Out of the water, they could see it was a trout. If King had to guess, he’d say four pounds. Big for a trout.
    Guessing the weight correctly, however was not King’s biggest concern. He was much more focused on keeping the magnet hidden. With Johnson holding the net out of the water, King still needed to keep the rod low enough so the magnet remained beneath the surface.
    Johnson handed King the net, so King had the rod in one hand and the net in the other. Now King’s task was easier to accomplish.
    He was impressed that Johnson stayed cool. He’d never seen this side of MJ before. After all, the warden had just asked about Blake and Internet access, and if the warden knew about the magnet, all the warden had to do was reach down for proof about Blake—and the questions this would lead to were terrifying.
    â€œTrust no authorities. They will hunt you too.”
    Johnson leaned forward and dipped his hands into the water so they wouldn’t feel like sandpaper on the fish’s skin. With water dripping from his fingertips, Johnson managed to hold the fish securely with both hands.
    â€œSir,” Johnson said, still cool. “Mind grabbing a pair of pliers from the tackle box?”
    Again, King congratulated himself on leaving Blake’s iPhone hidden behind them in the woods. Otherwise, it would have been right there for Murdoch to see.
    Murdoch squatted between King and Johnson, and King caught the smell of the man’s cologne. He also caught himself noticing that it was a nice smell, not too heavy but not too