The Shadow Tracer

by Mg Gardiner

  Sarah followed. “Harker’s the one who convinced Nolan to snitch. Isn’t he?”

  He scanned the horizon. She caught up with him.

  She said, “Beth told me an FBI agent promised they’d be safe. But that she and Nolan were tools.” Her voice was dry. “It was almost the last thing she said to me.”

  He looked at her then. “So you must know, Sarah.”

  In the dimming light, Sarah felt her face flush. “Nolan was afraid of his family. And Special Agent Harker told him that if he returned to the fold and snitched on the clan, the FBI would put him in witness protection. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were going to take him into the program.”

  “Yes.”

  “You were going to take all of them. Nolan and Beth and Zoe.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that all you can say?”

  “You’ve got it figured out. What else do you need to hear?”

  She felt the old anger kick through her system, filling her blood and bone. “That’s how you knew about the blessing ceremony. Nolan told you about it.”

  “No.” The wind made him squint. “I didn’t know about the ceremony until later. I wasn’t in that loop.”

  “Harker. He knew.” Her stomach coiled. “He sent Nolan there to get Zoe chipped.”

  “That’s the conclusion I’ve drawn.”

  “That was going to get Nolan his golden ticket to WITSec.” Her vision swam. “That’s Curtis Harker? He would put a baby’s life at risk—Zoe’s life—and Beth …”

  “I told you, by that point he wasn’t coloring within the lines anymore.”

  She looked at him. “You were going to help Nolan disappear with Beth and Zoe. And I would never have known what happened to them. What a fucking irony.”

  “That’s the way it works,” he said flatly.

  “Where were they going to go? Who were they going to become?”

  “That, I can’t tell you.”

  “Why not? Have you given their life to somebody else? Is another family living in their ranch home in Missoula, playing Scrabble while the kids splash in the inflatable pool?”

  “I can’t say.” His voice remained flat, but his eyes grew hot. “It was supposed to go down once Nolan testified under oath about the clan. I presume he was supposed to provide the chip as well.”

  “And Beth was onboard with the idea?”

  “No.”

  Her heart untwisted. “Nolan conned her into going to Arizona. He didn’t tell her until afterward that he wanted to take them underground?”

  “That’s the size of it.”

  She understood it then. “Beth went to Arizona and saw what the Worthes actually are. Creepy meth heads and polygamists. She freaked out. And when Nolan told her how they were going to escape from the creep show, she kicked him out.”

  “And Nolan told Harker that it was just a bump in the road, a tiff. That he’d get her to come around.”

  She crossed her arms and hunched against the wind. “And you were drafted to convince Beth to get with the program.” All at once she felt exhausted. “But everything went wrong. The Worthes got to Nolan first, and then to Beth.”

  His face paled. “It all went wrong. When I drove up, the Worthes’ SUV was in the driveway, empty, doors open.” He looked like he’d been stuck between the ribs with an ice pick. “I didn’t get there in time. What happened that day—it’s my fault.”

  Marichal and the deputies went quiet. After a moment, Marichal looked at the photo of Campbell Robinson and said, “I’m sorry.”

  Harker took the photo from him and slipped it back into his wallet. “We’re done screwing around. Deputies, you’re done wasting time checking me out and wondering if Sister Teresa is in trouble. We’re going to find out where she is before the Worthes catch up with her.”

  The deputies still looked uneasy. Harker walked past them to the kitchen counter. In the corner sat a small device that looked like a baby monitor. Plastic, the size of a bagel, with a speaker and an antenna. It had been half-hidden behind a stack of flyers from the local church.

  He pulled it to the front of the counter and examined it. It had a blinking green light. A label read, Life Sentinel.

  He held it up. “What’s this? A burglar alarm control device?”

  Marichal said, “It’s a medical alert radio transceiver.”

  “What do you mean—like a radio alert for people who are sick?”

  “It’s a base station. Usually people use it who have a medical condition that could leave them vulnerable.”

  “And what do they do if they get sick—run in the kitchen and shout at this device?”

  “No. They wear a transmitter on a chain around their neck.”

  Harker wanted to smile. “These transmitters—do they have GPS?”

  45

  Sarah turned and walked across the field, through the hard-blown yellow grass, back toward the barn. The first drops of rain spattered the ground and her face.

  Nolan had been informing for the FBI. He’d planned to take Beth and the baby and disappear into witness protection after exposing his newborn daughter to his crazy relatives.

  And Lawless was supposed to be their flight director. She kept walking. For five years, with a mix of faith and fear, she had counted on Lawless keeping silent about what she’d done. Had she been a fool?

  She turned around. He hadn’t moved. She walked back toward him.

  “When Nolan’s body disappeared from the woods, you encouraged me to run. Why?” she said. “For five years I thought you did it to protect Zoe from the clan.”

  “I did.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “I’m telling you the truth.”

  She stopped in front of him, aggressively close. “I took a risk in contacting you Friday. Don’t you understand? I didn’t know if you could help me or if you would burn me. But when I realized that running alone wouldn’t work, you’re the person I called. Was that a mistake?”

  “No,” he said. “Please believe me. You did the right thing.”

  Thunder cracked from the sky. Raindrops beat on the dry grass. For a second she wanted to run. Then he reached out and wrapped a hand around her neck. He held on, a physical reassurance.

  “You didn’t make a mistake. I swear it to you.”

  His hand was hot against her skin. She put her own hand on his arm. “I believe you.”

  He nodded. “So what do you want from me?”

  “Protection. Escape.”

  “Is that all?”

  She didn’t know if he was joking. He said, “It’ll be hard. You don’t want to enter WITSec and you wouldn’t be accepted in the program anyway.”

  “Then help me stay out of the clan’s sight until Harker captures them.”

  “Where? Overseas? You won’t get a passport for Zoe.” He raised a hand. “Sarah, I’m not trying to discourage you. Just to tell you how it is. Look, I’m here. I will protect you to the utmost of my ability. But you need to think about what comes tomorrow, and the day after.”

  “Immunity,” she said.

  “From prosecution?” His eyes were canny and doubtful. “For that, you need to have something to give the prosecutors.”

  “I do.” She looked at the barn. “If we can get Zoe to a doctor who’ll extract the chip, I have something invaluable to give them.”

  Slowly, he nodded. “That won’t solve your problems with the clan.”

  “But it’ll be a start.”

  He took her arm. “Come on.”

  They headed back toward the barn through the tall grass past the beached Chevy and the rusted trailer. He got his phone and made a call.

  “It’s Lawless,” he said, and started talking.

  She slipped back into the barn. He stayed outside, speaking with quiet urgency. When he hung up, he stood for a moment, the yellow grass swaying around his knees in the wind. He turned and pocketed the phone. He came in the barn and scraped the doo
r closed across the dirt. He glanced at the hayloft. There was no sound from Zoe’s nest.

  He put his hands on Sarah’s shoulders. “They want me to bring you in.”

  Her nerves spit and she felt like sparks were jumping off her skin. “Arrest me?”

  He squeezed. “That’s not what I mean. They want me to put you and Zoe in protective custody.”

  “They want you to arrest both of us.”

  “Sarah, they know this is one giant clusterfuck and has been from the day your sister died. They want me to sort it out. Quietly.”

  Teresa said, “That’s good news.”

  “It’s great news,” Lawless said.

  Sarah felt, for the first time in days, a flicker of hope. She put a hand on top of his. “Okay.”

  “And it’s getting dark,” he said. “What do you say we get the hell out of here?”

  By the time Harker and Marichal pulled into the sheriff’s station in Roswell, Harker had the number for Life Sentinel and was on the phone with a supervisor in the company’s El Paso headquarters.

  “This is an official FBI request for the GPS coordinates of one of your subscribers, Sister Teresa Gavilan.”

  The supervisor didn’t hesitate. She had a crisp, professional voice. “May I have your badge number and the name of the agent in charge?”

  Harker gave them to her. “I’m in Roswell. Phone the Chaves County Sheriff’s Department and the FBI Resident Agency here if you must. But this is a matter of life and death. We need to locate Sister Teresa immediately. I’m talking minutes, ma’am.”

  “Hold, please.”

  Infuriated, he held. She was checking him out. In the station beyond him, the deputies were gathering. Marichal was explaining the situation. Soon a sergeant and lieutenant joined the discussion, and started making calls. Marichal gave him the thumbs-up. The sheriff’s officers were going to call out the SWAT team and more.

  The Life Sentinel supervisor came back on the line. “Agent Harker? I have authorization to provide the coordinates of Sister Teresa Gavilan’s Sentinel pendant.”

  “Give them to me.” He took out his notebook and a pen.

  She read them off: 33 degrees 23 minutes 33 seconds north latitude, 104 degrees 31 minutes 29 seconds west longitude.

  “Where is that on a map?” He waved Marichal over, shoved the notebook at him, and pointed to the nearest computer screen.

  “It’s …” The woman paused. “Looks like it’s off-road west of Roswell.”

  Marichal typed and a landscape appeared.

  Harker said, “Is the signal stationary, or is it moving?”

  Another pause. “It’s stationary.”

  Harker’s hand curled into a fist. “Thank you.”

  He snapped his fingers at the sheriff’s crew, beckoning. To the Life Sentinel supervisor, he said, “We’re going to need your live feed from Sister Teresa’s GPS signal. Stay on the line.”

  46

  The wind picked up and rain spattered the barn. Teresa came calmly toward them. “We should get going before it turns completely dark and vile.”

  Lawless said, “I think the storm’s going to blow through, but yeah. We don’t want to get mired in mud or caught by flash floods.”

  Sarah said, “Which way are we headed?”

  Teresa took a map from the pickup and unfolded it on the hood. “West across the fields to this ranch road. That’ll take us back to Highway 380.” She tapped the map. She sounded certain, but looked wrung out.

  Lawless touched her shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Absolutely. I should eat soon, but my levels are still acceptable.” She looked at Sarah. “Diabetes. I need to monitor my blood sugar.”

  Sarah was taken aback. “You never said anything.”

  She looked at the chain around Teresa’s neck, the one she’d presumed held dog tags. She thought about the prescription vial in Teresa’s fridge. Insulin.

  Teresa looked at her kindly. “Don’t worry. It’s well managed. And I have an injector pen in my pocket. I’m not an invalid.”

  “Hardly.” She squeezed Teresa’s arm. “I’ll get Zoe.” She angled to the ladder to the hayloft, and paused. “You thought I looked like Beth?”

  Teresa nodded. “I can see it, yes.”

  “You sounded worried. My resemblance to my sister … does it add to the danger I’m in?”

  “Why would you think that?” Lawless asked.

  “The Worthes. They take sisters for wives, and they collect brides like Happy Meal toys. Would the clan take me as a replacement bride, or something twisted like that?”

  Lawless said, “I don’t know. But your likeness is one more reason to keep you out of their reach.”

  She started up the ladder. “We’re not alike. I’m going to get out of this alive.”

  Fell whistled through the kitchen door. “Guys. Listen to this.”

  On the police scanner, the chatter picked up. As Grissom came through the door, the sheriff’s department voices said, “Proceed to the scene. Code 10-26.”

  Fell said, “They’re moving. Something’s going down.”

  Reavy whipped out her phone and started an online search.

  Grissom grunted. “Get yourselves ready to go.”

  Reavy stared at her phone. “Chaves County Sheriff’s codes. 10-26. Do not use sirens or lights.”

  Grissom said, “They’re moving in on them.”

  The scanner bleated again. “Code 3. Respond to the scene.”

  Reavy said, “Code 3. Emergency.”

  Grissom banged on the roof of the Navigator. “We’re going.”

  He nodded toward the kitchen. The old woman was slumped half-conscious in her chair. “Reavy, lock the house.”

  She ran inside. Grissom cracked his knuckles. He looked energized. He put a hand to Fell’s cheek. “You are a beautiful, vicious creature. Good work.”

  She warmed. Covered his hand with hers.

  He leaned close. “You pull this off, I’m gonna give it to you, real good. Make you scream, till you can’t scream no more.”

  She froze. He tilted his head. His smile had mischief beneath it. And with Grissom, mischief always implied a victim.

  “If you don’t pull it off …” He shrugged. “San Francisco’s the end of the line for last chances.” His hand remained against her face, hot. “What’s that look?”

  “I’ll pull it off,” she said.

  “You better.”

  Reavy dashed back into the garage, eyes alight. Backing away, Grissom turned, scooped her into his arms, and lifted her off her feet. He buried his face in her chest. Reavy’s laugh sounded exhilarated.

  Fell scrubbed the back of her hand against her cheek where he’d touched her. She fired up the engine and slammed the door. “Come on. This is it.”

  On the highway Marichal drove smoothly, his face intent. In the passenger seat, Harker loaded the shotgun. Behind them followed a Chaves County Sheriff’s cruiser, along with an SUV and an armored command vehicle bearing the Sheriff’s Department SWAT team. The wipers smeared the spotty rain across the windshield.

  Harker had the Life Sentinel supervisor on the line, talking to her through a wireless headset. “Any change?”

  “No. Sister Teresa’s Sentinel pendant hasn’t moved.”

  Traffic was nonexistent. The desert was empty, as if the sudden thunderstorm had scared away even the jackrabbits and antelope.

  Marichal said, “We’re almost at the county line. You sure about the GPS coordinates?”

  “What do you mean?” Harker said.

  “I mean, are we sure this crew behind us has jurisdiction?”

  Harker glanced in the side mirror. The trail of dark vehicles and parking lights looked suspiciously like low-flying UFOs.

  “We’re fine. There’s another Chaves County Sheriff’s station west of us.”

  He had that on his phone. A text confirmation: Rio Sacado Station. Things were being coordinated.

  In his ear, the supervisor said,
“Still no movement. Sister Teresa hasn’t called in an emergency, Agent Harker. Are you sure …”

  “We presume the kidnappers have confiscated the pendant. Stay on the line.”

  To the west, headlights appeared. Harker sat up straighter. The empty road suited him—he didn’t want surprises. Then, from out of the sunset, the lights rolled into clearer view. Along came a thinly disguised military convoy, trucks and a long flatbed big rig and outriding vehicles carrying men who were clearly not just Feds but former Special Forces, men with earpieces and mirrored shades, treating traffic like a target. The convoy cruised past and into the darkness to the east.

  Marichal said, “Agent Harker, your body armor.”

  Harker spoke to the Sentinel supervisor. “Is Gavilan still in the same location?”

  “No movement, sir.”

  Marichal said, “Agent Harker?”

  Harker hadn’t worn body armor in years. It was a point of contention between him and his superiors. But there was no point in wearing Kevlar. Nothing could hurt him anymore. If he took a round in the line of duty, he would feel nothing, and the Bureau could save itself his monthly paycheck.

  He touched his wallet. It was in his jacket, over his heart. He didn’t look at her photo, but he needed to know it was there.

  Her face was as it had been. Before the bomb ripped it apart and left her shredded on the pavement outside the Denver courthouse. Before it took his spirit with her into the netherworld.

  Campbell. Robinson on her FBI credentials. Harker on their wedding day. Campbell, who saw the world as it was and attacked it anyway. Campbell, who saw him as he was and loved him anyway. The woman who would do anything to see killers and gangsters brought to justice. The woman who had walked unafraid toward the U.S. District Courthouse in Denver that morning, ready to testify, to put Eldrick Worthe in prison for the rest of his life. Not knowing that she was moments from the rest of her life.

  For you.

  “I’m set,” Harker said.

  Marichal slowed. “That’s the ranch access road.”

  He turned off and drove north across the countryside toward the thunderstorm. Harker gripped the shotgun.

  47