The Shadow Tracer

by Mg Gardiner

  Come on, kiddo,” Sarah said.

  Loopy with sleep, Zoe tried to burrow into the nest of coats in the hayloft. “It’s not even nighttime.”

  “You can sleep in the truck.”

  “Bring Mousie.”

  “Got him.” She should staple Mousie to her own chest so he never got lost again. “Hang on tight.”

  Zoe clung to her like a koala and she made her way down the ladder. Teresa and Lawless had already loaded the vehicles.

  Lawless said, “If you’re okay to drive, Teresa can ride with me.”

  “Absolutely.” Sarah wondered if he was protective, or genuinely worried about the nun’s health.

  Zoe climbed in the truck. With the window broken, it would be a cold and noisy drive. Sarah tossed her a jacket. “Button up.”

  Lawless walked over. “I’ll lead. Stay close behind. We don’t know if the trio’s out there so I don’t want to use headlights if I don’t have to.”

  “Got it.”

  He hesitated and held out his hand. She took it.

  “Almost out of this,” he said. “It’s safer to get out of here and meet up with the hot team. Just a few more miles across hostile territory.”

  “I know.” She squeezed his hand.

  He climbed in the rental and fired up the engine. Sarah slid open the doors at the back end of the barn. The evening had grown weird with stormy light, a fading wash of orange along the horizon, the sky and fields shadowed with dusk and rain.

  Teresa stood by Lawless’s car. “Just keep an eye on our brake lights and dust.”

  Teresa slid into the passenger seat. Lawless put it in gear and eased out of the barn into the twilight. Sarah climbed into the cab of the pickup and turned the ignition. The truck’s big engine fired up, strong and steady. She put it in gear and crawled toward the barn door, eyes on Lawless and Teresa ahead.

  And she saw two men rise up from behind a scrim of rocks. They wore black, and carried long guns. They aimed the guns at Lawless’s car.

  “No. Michael …”

  Then outside the barn directly in front of her, two more figures dashed into view. A car drove over the rise in the ranchland off to her left, a big dark vehicle, bucking across the grass toward her.

  She jammed the gearshift into Reverse and floored it.

  Zoe squealed. “Mommy …”

  “Get down.”

  She roared backward across the barn toward the closed door at the other end. The truck hit the rotten wood and splintered it. Zoe shrieked. Men shouted and broken boards spun around the truck and she gunned it outside. She threw the wheel and braked and jammed it into Drive. Looked forward.

  In front of her were four men in black tactical gear and riot helmets, with rifles aimed directly at the windshield. A red laser sight veered up the hood of the truck and across the dash and came to rest on her chest. Behind the gunmen was a hulking truck with CHAVES COUNTY SHERIFF on the door.

  A black sedan with an antenna on the back was stopped beside it.

  At the passenger window, a man in a suit appeared. He held a dark pistol two-handed, aimed directly at her.

  “FBI. Don’t move.”

  Behind her, somebody yanked open the door of the crew cab and hauled Zoe out into the night.

  The stars were hidden, Fell thought. The black wall of cloud and lightning had swallowed them. She sat at the wheel of the SUV, parked at the side of U.S. 380, just west of the place Grissom and Reavy had spun out earlier in the day. Grissom sat beside her, flicking the safety of his semiautomatic on and off, on and off. In the back seat, Reavy cleaned under her nails with a card, maybe their hotel key, staring toward the countryside where the sheriff’s caravan had turned off.

  “Soon,” Fell said.

  “Better be,” Reavy said.

  The police scanner crackled alive. “Ten-fifteen.”

  “What’s that?” Grissom said.

  The dispatcher said, “Copy. Prisoner in custody.”

  Grissom inhaled and roused himself. “The Lord is good.”

  “I told you,” Fell said, and started the engine. “Now we wait to see which way they go and where they take her.”

  48

  Handcuffed in the back seat of the unmarked government car, Sarah squinted against the last embers of sunset. The law enforcement convoy sped west across the darkening plateau, away from Roswell, into the vast nowhere.

  “Where are we going?”

  Special Agent Harker said nothing. Neither did the young FBI agent at the wheel, Marichal. Ahead, lights flashing, a sheriff’s cruiser led them across the empty terrain at 75 mph. Behind, headlights glaring, the SWAT command vehicle hugged their bumper.

  Further back, a Sheriff’s Department Ford Expedition carried Zoe.

  A sob welled in Sarah’s chest. She shut her eyes and forced it down. She could not cry in front of these men.

  The convoy passed a van broken down at the side of the road, hood raised. On top, a spray-painted silver alien glittered like stardust in the sunset. ROSWELL UFO TOURS.

  The tour director waved frantically, trying to flag them down. The tourists were bunched miserably on the shoulder. The convoy blew by. The tour director flung his baseball cap to the ground in disgust.

  Twenty minutes later, the convoy rolled into a crossroads hamlet. Gas station, feed store, minimart, faded stucco houses. And a sheriff’s department outpost. The sign said RIO SACADO STATION. The cars and trucks rumbled into the parking lot like cowboys pulling their horses to a stop outside a dusty saloon.

  Harker got out and opened Sarah’s door. “Move.”

  She wriggled across the seat, hands bound behind her, and climbed out. It was near dark, the air fraught with electricity. The windows of the sheriff’s station were lit with fluorescent lighting. In the back of a sheriff’s cruiser she glimpsed Teresa and Lawless.

  “Where’s Zoe?” she said.

  Harker led her by the elbow toward the door. A uniformed Roswell deputy pulled her daughter from the Ford Expedition.

  “Mommy,” Zoe called.

  “I’m here, honey.”

  Harker tugged her off balance and over the curb. She stumbled. The lights glinted from the glass in the door when he pushed it open. Inside, the desk sergeant came to the counter.

  Harker held up his badge. “Interview room?”

  The sergeant was in his mid-forties, a Latino guy packed solidly into his brown uniform shirt. His nametag read R. Butler. He eyed Harker and the crew that piled in behind him as if they were a dog-and-pony show, lost on their way to the circus.

  A deputy brought Zoe in. Her shoulders were tight and shaking, her lips almost blue from crying.

  “We’ve been waiting. Looks like everybody’s finally here.” Sgt. Butler spread his hands on the counter. “One prisoner?”

  Harker said, “Interview room?”

  “Are you going to book her?” the sergeant said.

  “Soon enough.”

  Butler nodded down a hall. “Either door on the left.”

  Harker pulled Sarah through the lobby. Opposite the front counter was a Plexiglas wall that divided an area for desks. They walked past it and around a corner to a bare white door labeled INTERVIEW 1.

  “In. Sit. Wait.” He urged her inside and turned to leave.

  “Hey—the handcuffs. How about removing them?”

  “Now, now,” Harker said. “Will you be good?”

  In the lobby she heard Teresa, and Lawless. He sounded irate. Then Zoe said, “I want my mom.”

  Harker barred the doorway. For a second he looked like Niedermeyer in Animal House, waiting for her to assume the position and to beg, “Thank you, sir—may I have another?” She felt a violent urge to head-butt him through the wall.

  She looked at the floor. “Yes.”

  “Turn around.” Harker got the key and unlocked the cuffs. “I’ll be back.”

  The door locked behind him.

  In the lobby Lawless waited, surrounded by men in uniforms and tacti
cal gear. They hadn’t placed him under arrest, but Harker had confiscated his weapon and his phone. He clearly wanted to strip him of authority and leave no doubt that he was suspect.

  Teresa was taken down the hall to another interview room. They treated her gruffly, but with more courtesy than they did Sarah.

  Zoe they placed on a chair in the lobby, watched by a deputy the size of a torpedo. She sat, feet dangling, her face wan under the lights. She worked her fingers together, over and over, like tarantulas wrestling.

  The desk sergeant beckoned Agent Marichal. “I know you and your big band here called ahead, but want to let me in on what’s happening?”

  “Special Agent Harker will brief you.”

  “Thought that’s what you’d say.” He turned to the Roswell deputies. “Gentlemen?”

  One of the men said, “We seem to be the warm-up act. We’re waiting for the briefing as well.”

  The SWAT team leader was behind the counter, speaking on the phone to their commander. After a minute he hung up and told his men they were headed back to Roswell. Their job was done. They shouldered their gear and filed out.

  Harker returned. His color was high, his manner severe. He looked like a lit match, flaring and ready to set fire to the world.

  “What’s going on, Curt?” Lawless said.

  “That’s need-to-know. And you don’t.”

  Sgt. Butler said, “We all need to know. Should I order pizza for this crowd? ’Cause it’ll take an hour to get it here. Nearest place is in Alamogordo.”

  Lawless said, “You didn’t take Sarah back to Roswell for a reason. You wanted to isolate her in the middle of nowhere.” He glanced at the desk sergeant. “No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  Harker said, “So it’s ‘Sarah’ now?”

  Lawless said, “You and I need to speak privately.”

  “You’re in no position to make demands, Mike.”

  The senior Roswell deputy said, “But I am. It’s time you briefed us.”

  Harker set his hands on his hips. “Very well. I’ve brought the prisoner here for operational and security reasons.”

  “What are those, exactly?”

  Lawless said, “He wants to keep this out of the news.”

  Sgt. Butler looked at Zoe, surprised. “This is the little girl they were talking about on TV. You arrested the mother?”

  “The abductor,” Harker said. “And we don’t want word getting out yet.”

  “Why not?”

  Lawless felt a gnawing in his gut. “He doesn’t want lights and cameras and reporters asking questions.”

  The deputies stilled. They could understand keeping it off the news until family members were notified. But Lawless was suggesting something else. They looked back and forth between him and Harker.

  Harker said, “Go on, then, Mike. Why not?”

  “Because lights and cameras and nosy reporters will scare off the wildlife.” Lawless walked toward him. “They’ll spook the Worthe clan and keep them from showing up here.”

  Butler raised a hand. “Hold on. The Worthes?” He nodded down the hall. “Does this have to do with our guest back there?”

  Harker took a moment. He straightened his tie and smoothed his jacket. “Deputy Marshal Lawless is correct. The Worthe family is pursuing Sarah Keller, with the goal of taking the child into their custody.”

  Jesus, Lawless thought. Talking about Zoe while she was sitting right there. She went still, her hands knotted as if in prayer.

  Lawless went and sat down beside her. Quietly, he said, “Hey.” He held out his hand. Zoe took it. Her little fingers were hot. She was breathing rapidly, chest rising and falling.

  Butler said, “And you want to draw the Worthes into the open?” He pointed at the floor. “Here?”

  “It’s safer than luring them into an urban environment like Roswell. The Worthes have no regard for life or the safety of innocent bystanders. They’ll attack a protective detail or even a police station, and I want to minimize the chance of collateral damage.”

  “So you what, plan to let them attack us here?”

  Harker shook his head. “With luck they won’t get within half a mile of this station, because we’ll see them coming. That’s the beauty of holding the prisoner here. Rio Sacado has unobstructed views in all directions. The only two roads within miles cross right outside. You’ll see anybody approaching with plenty of warning. Plus, we’ll set up reconnaissance posts outside of town. And we’ll deploy an FBI tactical team.”

  Butler said, “Are you sure they’re going to come?”

  “Positive.”

  “’Cause we got people living around here. Only ’round a hundred, but they’re my responsibility.”

  “Leave that to me,” Harker said.

  “I can’t do that.”

  Lawless said, “One question, Curt. Without the media, how will you draw the Worthes here? How will they find out Sarah is in Rio Sacado?”

  Harker offered a thin smile. “Same way they found out she was at the music festival.”

  He beckoned Special Agent Marichal. Marichal brought Sarah’s messenger bag. Harker found her wallet and took out a credit card. He held it up.

  “Does this town have an ATM machine?”

  49

  Tracking the law enforcement convoy was like tailing a freight train. Out here there was only one paved road. Fell stayed almost a mile behind the flashing lights of the cruisers and SWAT trucks. With their own lights off, the Navigator was nearly invisible against the black horizon.

  Reavy said, “According to the map, the next town is Rio Sacado. If you can call it a town. That’s the only place they can turn.”

  Grissom pointed out the windshield, like cracking a whip. “Close it up.”

  Fell accelerated. The white line on the asphalt was hard to see, but she pressed her foot on the pedal.

  “Gotta be two deputies plus six SWAT and the two FBI agents,” she said.

  “Your point?” Grissom said.

  She glanced at him. She would cope with being outnumbered, but did he really not see that they needed to deal with the arithmetic? “My point is, I don’t want to waste ammunition having to take down so many useless cops. What’s your plan?”

  He turned his head, slowly, and glared at her. The dashboard lights reflected in his eyes. “You questioning me?”

  “Never.”

  “’Cause ‘What’s your plan’ sounded like a question.”

  “It’s dark out here, and I need guidance.”

  “The plan is, I lead, you follow.”

  From the back seat, Reavy said, “Course, Grissom.”

  “Course,” Fell said.

  Grissom took out his phone. “I’m on it.”

  The lights of the convoy vanished over a rise. The men in that convoy would know this vehicle. They’d be on the lookout for it. Deputies and FBI agents were as easy to kill as anybody, but they weren’t as stupid as Grissom thought.

  They passed a broken-down van by the side of the road. Man waving, passengers sitting in the dust.

  She looked in the rearview mirror.

  Locked in the interrogation room, Sarah could hear Lawless and Harker arguing in the lobby. The exterior walls of this sheriff’s station might be cinder block and rebar, but the interior partitions were flimsy particleboard. The room measured six feet by eight, with a Formica table and two plastic chairs. She paced, rubbing her wrists.

  The station was hardly bigger than a ranch house. This place was at the crossroads of tumbleweeds and jackrabbit junction. Why had they brought her here?

  She leaned her ear to the door, trying to hear more clearly. Zoe. What were they doing with Zoe?

  Lawless said, “No, Curt. Absolutely not.” Another man, maybe the desk sergeant, said, “We need to coordinate with Roswell.”

  “With the Bureau in Albuquerque, you mean,” Harker said.

  She knew there was another interrogation room. She knocked on the wall. It made a chea
p hollow sound.

  “Teresa?” she said.

  On the far side, a chair scraped on the floor. “It’s me.”

  “You okay?”

  “That word covers a lot of ground. But physically, yes.”

  Sarah rested her head against the wall. “Do you know where Zoe is? Who’s got hold of her?”

  “She was in the lobby with a deputy, last I saw.”

  “I have to get to her.”

  Teresa didn’t reply.

  Sarah said, “I don’t know what they’re playing at. They haven’t put us in cells. No booking, no mug shot …”

  “Who actually arrested you back at the barn?”

  “Harker.” She saw what Teresa was getting at. “He brought us here because it’s a holding pen. He’ll want to take me where there’s a federal lockup to formally incarcerate me.” Albuquerque, or El Paso.

  But that wasn’t the worst of it. “He’s going to take Zoe. He’s going …” She put a hand against the wall to steady herself. “I’m sorry. So sorry I got you into this.”

  “I don’t know what’s coming next. But I know we have to be prepared for anything. For that, you need to use whatever method works to hold yourself together. Right here, right now.”

  What Sarah wanted was a jackhammer to bore through the door and then through Harker’s grimly satisfied face. She took a breath.

  It seemed as if she’d been taking breaths to calm herself for five years. And look where it had gotten her.

  From the other room came Teresa’s voice, barely above a murmur. “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my savior …”

  Sarah set her back against the wall and slid to the floor.

  Lawless stood and walked toward Harker. “Why don’t you splash Sarah with red paint, dangle her from the roof, and call her bait? You can’t do this. You have no right to put civilians in the line of fire to capture Grissom Briggs and those women.”

  Harker’s neck flushed. “I have no intention of placing civilians at risk. We’ll set an ambush outside of town. The sheriff’s department can put up a roadblock and keep local traffic from entering the area.”

  Sgt. Butler leaned on the counter. “You are not going to lure a bunch of homicidal maniacs into Rio Sacado. I will not let you endanger my officers or the prisoners and visitors you’ve brought here.”