“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“At OCPM, I investigate breaches of security within the USDA—particularly as they pertain to safeguarding our national security. I oversee all Texas employees who work in what we call public trust positions. These are positions that have the potential to compromise national security through access to material classified as confidential, secret or, at the highest level, top secret.”
“Are you telling us the USDA sees this situation as a potential threat to national security?” Jill asked.
“We’re not sure about that. Not sure at all.” Keeling opened the car door and took out a briefcase. “The important thing for you to know is that our people are actively working to resolve this case. Right now we have department agents in Juarez, Mexico, looking for your son. We’re also in contact with Mr. Diaz in Paris, but he has not heard from Matthew. When we find him, Mr. Strong, your son will be in good hands, I promise you. So if you’ll show me where your mother lives, I’ll be more than happy to set Ted up in position outside the house.”
Cole wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or twice the fear he’d had before. If Matthew had stumbled onto information so sensitive that it might threaten national security, there was no telling what kind of danger he might be in. It appeared that both Agrimax and the USDA were searching for the boy, not to mention the sheriff and who knew how many others.
Who could tell what nefarious types might want to get their hands on Matt’s information? As Cole’s thoughts raced with visions of terrorists, kidnappers and murderers, his eyes fell on Jill, who was practically radiating blond curls and excitement. Could he leave her here and expect her to protect his mother? Or dare he trust these men to keep an eye on things?
True, Geneva had managed to hold her own against the two intruders the night before. But what about Billy? No telling what kind of trouble that kid might dive into.
“I recommend you all stay here, Mr. Strong,” Keeling repeated. “We’ll maintain a protective position outside the house, and the minute your son is found, we’ll let you know.”
“Good. I’ll leave you my cell phone number.”
Keeling gazed at him. “It’s your decision, of course.” He turned to Jill. “Have you had any communication from Matthew since the original phone call to his friend?”
“Two e-mail messages,” Jill said. “We brought his computer with us, and I’ve found some useful information on the hard drive.”
“Excellent. Would you mind if I took a look at that?”
“Not at all.” Jill started for the house, and the two USDA agents accompanied her. “We were able to read the history of Matt’s messages back and forth with Agrimax. It’s clear they were threatening him.”
Cole stood near the car, uncertainty still weighing on him. He needed to find Matt—and he wanted to do that before anyone else could scare or hurt the boy. But his mother? And Jill and Billy? Cole leaned on the Mercury. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he suddenly realized that he had failed to call on the one source of power that had never let him down. Prayer had gotten him through the deaths of his wife and his father, through the lean farm years, and through the constant uncertainties of trying to parent a boy genius.
How had he let his prayer life slip so badly? Did it take a crisis to bring him close to God? Cole wondered if he truly believed he could manage everything himself—that he only needed to bring in God when the going got too rough. Probably. Not very spiritual…but true.
Now was one of those bad times, and Cole struggled to pray for discernment, for stamina, for patience, for fortitude, and most of all, for finding Matt. As he opened his eyes, he glanced into the car. The front seat was littered with maps and foam coffee cups. There was a laptop, a set of earphones and some other gadgetry he didn’t recognize.
National security. Just the thought of it sent a stab of fear through his gut. Certain he had no choice but to go in search of Matt, Cole crossed the street and stepped into his mother’s house.
Geneva was serving sweet tea and cookies to Chuck Keeling and Ted, who were explaining their mission on behalf of the USDA. Billy had joined them, his large bare feet propped on a chair despite Geneva occasionally swatting them with a dish towel. In the living room, Jill was throwing things into her bag, poking at her hair, humming a tune Cole didn’t recognize. It looked as though he would have no choice but to tolerate her presence for one more day.
“We can’t take the computer,” he said, moving close to her and speaking in a low voice. “But I want to keep checking messages. Is there a way to do that?”
She looked into his eyes, then glanced at the two men from the USDA. “Why are you whispering?”
“Answer my question.”
“I can access my account with my Palm.”
“Good.” He gestured at the computer. “Put Matt’s term paper on one of those keys, and delete it from the hard drive.”
“Cole, why? Don’t you trust them?”
“I don’t trust anybody.” He straightened. “Mom, come here a minute.”
While Jill sat on the sofa and worked at the computer, Cole slipped an arm around his mother and drew her out of hearing range of the men in the kitchen. “This is serious business, Mom. Everybody involved in this situation is looking out for number one, okay?”
“You’re not telling me anything new,” she said, eyes sparkling beneath her halo of white hair.
“Chuck and Ted came here to take care of you, but they work for the government. If it comes to a choice between protecting you or national security, you know which they’ll choose.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“All right—and keep a close eye on Billy.”
“I can take care of things,” she assured him. “Don’t you worry about me. And, boy…I’ll be praying for you. You and Jill.” She punctuated her words with a wink.
He rolled his eyes. “I wish she’d stay here. She’s beginning to seem like a parasite.”
“I heard that,” Jill spoke up from the sofa. “I’ve had parasites, as a matter of fact. Picked them up at a refugee camp in Sudan, and no, I’m nothing like a parasite. I see myself more as a guardian.”
Smiling brightly, she stood and handed him a USB key. “There you go, Mr. Strong. Geneva, it’s been wonderful to meet you.”
The older woman embraced the younger. “I’ll pray for God to give you patience. My son wasn’t always this surly. Do what you can to lighten him up.”
“Oh, he’s just an old, dried-up tree trunk.” Jill nudged Cole with her elbow. “But there may be a green sprig or two left in him. Hey, Billy—be good. Don’t eat Granny Strong out of house and home while we’re gone.”
“Adios, Miss Pruitt,” Billy called. “Bye, Mr. Strong. Call us when you find the Mattman.”
“Done.” Cole gave Keeling and Ted a nod and stepped out the door.
“Well,” Jill said, “at least we know Billy and Geneva are in good hands.”
The smog that hung over the city of Juarez had turned a muddy orange as Cole and Jill drove over the bridge that evening. Cole thought about Matt crossing this span above the Rio Grande, and he wondered again what could have compelled his son to do something so out of character. Matt loved spending hours alone in his bedroom reading comic books or tinkering with his computer. When he wasn’t home, he hung out at the library or the computer store. Even the use of a pickup truck hadn’t prodded the boy from his usual pattern. Matt reminded Cole of a young calf, always keeping close to the herd, always following the same trails, never straying.
“I can’t think what crazy notion could’ve pushed Matt to drive all the way to El Paso,” he said aloud. They had stopped for food near the El Paso airport, and Jill was finishing the last of a green chile cheeseburger. “It’s just not like him.”
“It’s exactly like him,” she said. “Matt has a mind of his own. Like that old tie he wears to school every day. The kids make fun of him, but he still wears it. Once he decides to do somet
hing, he does it.”
Cole drove in silence for a minute. “His mother gave him that tie.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”
“It’s been a long time. Eight years.”
“She had a profound influence on Matt, didn’t she?”
“On everyone. Anna was a wonderful woman.” Again, the image of his wife’s beautiful face filtered through his thoughts. He had lost her. He couldn’t lose Matt, too.
“Was your wife a Christian?” Jill asked.
“The best kind.”
“Then she played a part in developing Matt’s faith.”
“Not just a part. She was it. She started reading him Bible picture books when he was still a nursing baby. We went to church as a family, but Anna was the one who taught Matt how to pray, taught him to read his Bible every day, taught him to live by his faith.”
“And that’s what he’s doing right now, Cole. He truly believes he can make a difference in the world—for the sake of Christ. He told me that many times. ‘Miss Pruitt,’ he used to say, ‘I want to do something. I want to change the world.’ Matt is idealistic, and he’s determined.”
“He’s also just a kid.”
“Sixteen—he’s old enough to have his own ideas.”
“And young enough to be completely naive.”
“Maybe Matt’s innocent about the ways of the world. But he has his head on straight. He doesn’t see the Bible as a book of nice little tales and proverbs. He sees it as a command to action.”
“A command to change the world?” Cole couldn’t imagine it. He had been content to change one little patch of New Mexico. And even that had been rough going. “Do you think Matt sees Hector Diaz as the answer?”
“Part of it. Matt believed he could actually convince Agrimax to alter its practices, and he saw I-FEED as the agent for change. But his plan seems to have backfired.”
“That’s an understatement.”
Cole checked his rearview mirror. A car had been tailgating him for the past ten minutes, and he was concerned. Almost too tired to think, he told himself it was probably nothing. He reminded himself he was driving in Mexico, where stoplights were generally disregarded, and a single marked lane could hold at least two cars side by side as they jockeyed for position.
He and Jill were driving through a residential area toward the home of Hector Diaz’s secretary. Enjoying two weeks’ vacation while her boss was out of town, the secretary hadn’t wanted to make the trip into the city. But she had agreed to give Jill and Cole the key to the I-FEED office as well as her address book.
“I wonder what Banyon gave Matt before he was killed,” Cole said. “Information? Or some object?”
“Oh, I think it’s information. Matt must know something, and he’s trying to find the right person to tell.”
“Why didn’t he just tell me? And why is this guy on my tail? He’s making me nervous.” Cole honked twice and rolled down his window. “Hey, buddy, back off!”
Jill craned to see. “That looks like the Lincoln. How creepy. It couldn’t be.”
“It’s not a Lincoln. I’m sure it’s just some driver in a hurry.”
“You sure he’s not following us?”
“Well, I don’t think he’s ‘following us’ like that. This is just how people drive here. He’s practically riding my rear bumper.”
“I’ll tell you why Matt didn’t give you the information,” Jill said. “Because he couldn’t trust you.”
“What are you saying?” Annoyed, he rounded on her. “I’ve never been unreliable a day in my life, and my son knows it. He trusts me.”
“Not with this. He figured you’d just turn the information over to Agrimax. Or to the sheriff. Obviously, it needs to get into the hands of the right people. Are you sure that’s not a Lincoln?”
Cole could hardly keep up with the woman’s train of thought. “It’s not a Lincoln, and I wouldn’t have turned over the information if Matt hadn’t wanted me to. I would have…” He paused, searching for the street that led toward the secretary’s home. “Well, I don’t know what I would have done. The right thing, I guess.”
“The safe thing,” she said. “You strike me as someone who thinks it’s important to be safe all the time.”
“And you don’t?”
“The Bible never says we’re supposed to have safety as a goal. We’re to be righteous, obedient, faithful, long-suffering—”
“Yeah, well, it’s a man’s job to protect his family and keep them safe.”
“But you could reach out once in a while. Go beyond your safety zone. Do something—”
“Look out!” Cole tightened his fists on the steering wheel as the speeding car behind him pulled abreast of their rental car, sideswiping it and sending them careening onto the shoulder. “Hang on!”
“Lord, help us!” Jill grabbed the dashboard as Cole wrestled the fishtailing vehicle back onto the roadway.
“He wrecked our car!” Cole could hardly believe it. “Did you hear the metal crunching? And look at him—he’s just driving on past us like it was nothing. Hit-and-run.”
“He did it on purpose.”
“You think so?”
“Cole, I have a bad feeling. You’d better stop.”
“It’s too remote out here. I’m going to find the secretary’s house and—” He stared in disbelief as a set of headlights came straight at him. “Not again! Jill, hold on!”
Again, Cole swerved off the side of the road, this time striking a concrete post. The rental car skidded from the shoulder in a spray of gravel and went airborne. Gripping the steering wheel, Cole braced for impact, the sound of Jill’s scream ringing in his ears. The front end slammed into an embankment and crumpled. The car teetered on its side for a moment, then toppled over.
Cole knew the smell of fuel, the wet drip of something soaking into his shirt, and the silence from the passenger’s seat. He was upside down, his seat belt cutting into his stomach, and he couldn’t see, and then he couldn’t think or breathe, and then…there was nothing.
EIGHT
In the wee hours of Sunday morning, Matt slipped through the darkness toward the old adobe house. Even though he’d only been gone since Thursday, he had a feeling he was two inches taller and at least five pounds skinnier than the last time he’d set foot on the Strong ranch. Would Josefina totally freak out when she saw him? More important, would she help him?
Crouching near a scraggly piñon tree, he surveyed the ground of the small, wire-fenced complex where Josefina and her family lived. Her husband, Hernando, was the ranch foreman in charge of cattle. Their children had all grown up and moved away years before, and now Josefina’s mother lived with them. She couldn’t get out of bed, so Josefina worried about her constantly. A rusty swingset stood in the yard, along with two sheds and a garage. A couple of chickens usually wandered around pecking for bugs, but they must have gone into the shed for the night. Even the dog, Ricky, was nowhere to be seen.
Matt didn’t see any Agrimax men or the sheriff lurking around. In fact, he didn’t see any signs of life at all. That gave him a bad feeling.
He checked for the USB key, a habit that was quickly becoming an obsession. It was still there, heavy in his jeans pocket. As had become his custom each time he touched the small piece of hardware, he prayed that God would give him strength to do what he had to do.
Leaving the shelter of the piñon tree, Matt crept toward the open gate in the sagging wire fence. A couple of pickup trucks had been pulled into the yard, and he scampered across barren ground until he was hidden between them. A growl lifted the hair on his neck, but he counted on Josefina’s little mutt remembering him.
“Ricky!” he called in a whisper. “Hey, Ricky, it’s me. Whatcha doin’, boy? C’mere!”
The dog bounded across the yard from where he’d been dozing on the porch. Front paws on Matt’s knee, he licked the boy’s face. Matt rubbed Ricky behind the ears and relished the comforting fe
el of thick, warm fur and saggy skin.
“Where’s your mama?” Matt murmured. “Isn’t she home?”
The dog followed, tail wagging happily, as Matt darted from between the pickups toward the front step. After glancing behind to make sure no one was coming after him, he knocked three times.
“Josefina! It’s Matt. Open up!”
He thought he heard a sound from inside the house, but the lights didn’t come on. That was probably good, in case there was somebody hidden outside. He knocked again.
“Hey, Josefina! Open the door.”
Ricky gave a bark that nearly sent Matt’s heart into his throat. He bent down and patted the dog. Standing out here, all he could think about was the last time he had walked into Mr. Banyon’s house. What if someone had murdered Josefina and Hernando, too?
He vividly remembered the moment he laid eyes on that horrible, misshapen face with a bloodred halo spread across the sofa pillow. Mr. Banyon’s blackened mouth had haunted him all the way to Juarez. Even while hanging out with the Mexican street kids, trying to figure out what to do next, Matt had been unable to calm down. He thought he was probably going to need a psychologist after this was all over. Then he wondered if it would ever be over.
And then he felt the barrel end of a rifle against his ribs.
“Don’t move!” a low voice commanded. The rifle jabbed him harder. “Who are you?”
He was going to throw up. He was going to faint. He was going to die right there on Josefina’s porch.
“I’m…I’m…” He ventured a glance out of the corner of his eye. The familiar face with its thick mustache and black hair was outlined by moonlight. “Hernando! It’s me, Matt.”
“Matthew? Ay-yi-yi. Get in the house!” The man grabbed him roughly by the arm, opened the front door and threw him inside. “What are you doing here, niño? Don’t you know everybody’s looking for you? The sheriff and the police and even the FBI. You’re in big trouble.”
Matt hauled himself up from the wooden floor where he’d landed. He brushed off his elbows and kneecaps. “I know they’re looking for me. Where’s Josefina?”
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