The Shadow Tracer

by Mg Gardiner

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Then you phone Sarah. Tell her it’s vital she get in touch with me.” He gave her his number.

  “Got it,” Helms said. “Sarah will meet with you—but she wants an FBI tactical team backing you up, and helicopter evac to take her and Zoe to a secure location. Such as NORAD.”

  “NORAD?”

  “You get my point. If you guarantee that, then she’ll agree to come in.”

  “Fine. Call her,” he said.

  “I’ll get back to you.”

  Helms hung up. Dos Santos remained on the call. Harker said, “You got her number?”

  “OKC local number.” Dos Santos gave it to him. “I’ll seek a pen/trap order—I can be in front of a judge in half an hour. We’ll get Helms’s call records.”

  “Make it twenty minutes, detective. Sarah Keller’s on the move, using a burn phone. I need that number to locate her.”

  He hung up and stood at the crossroads, sun beating on his head. Even twenty minutes was too long to wait. But he didn’t have to. He had Helms’s phone number, right in the palm of his hand.

  Sarah’s phone buzzed. She let it go to voice mail.

  Sitting in her rental SUV twenty feet away, Danisha waited for the tone, took a theatrical breath, and left a message. “Sarah. Agent Harker says he’ll provide the protection you requested. He wants you to call him. For Zoe’s sake. For yours.” Eyeing Sarah through the windshield, she rattled off his number. “Call me as soon as you get this message. Hold tight. It’ll be okay. It’s almost over.”

  Danisha hung up.

  Sarah smiled. She waited a long minute, counting to sixty in her head, and phoned Danisha back. Danisha, in turn, let the call go to voice mail.

  “You have reached the office of DHL Legal. Leave a message after the tone.”

  “It’s me,” Sarah said. “All right, if Harker’s giving me a guarantee, I’ll go in—if you think it’s the right thing.” She paused. “It had better be. I’m out of time. This is my last play.”

  She ended the call. She shook off her faux-theatrical attitude and gave Danisha a thumbs-up. Danisha hopped out of the SUV.

  She knew that Danisha had set up her phone for call forwarding, so that the calls she’d just made would register as originating through DHL’s office in Oklahoma City. She presumed the FBI was monitoring Danisha’s phone. Even if they weren’t, she presumed Harker had stolen the passcode for DHL’s voice mail when he took Danisha’s phone from the wrecked office. He could call in, listen to the message she’d just left for Danisha, and capture her burn phone number. She was counting on it.

  Nolan said, “What was that?”

  “That,” she said, “was my opening move.”

  60

  Twenty minutes later, after wolfing down the sandwiches and juice Danisha had brought, Sarah walked to the shady spot by the stream where her friend sat cross-legged beside Zoe, finishing a Thermos of coffee.

  “Time,” Sarah said.

  Danisha stood and brushed off her jeans. “Last chance. You don’t have to do this alone.”

  “Yes I do. I need you to monitor the wire. And to keep watch on her.”

  She looked at Zoe, building a little fort for Mousie out of rocks from the stream.

  The air seemed charged with light. She crouched at Zoe’s side. “Time to go, firefly.”

  Zoe looked up. “Where?”

  “You’re going with Danisha this morning.”

  “Is Nolan?”

  He was out of earshot, sitting on the tailgate of the truck, scarfing a ham sandwich. “No, honey.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m staying here for a little while.”

  Zoe stood up. She let Mousie fall to the dust. “Don’t, Mommy.”

  “I have to.” She bit down and breathed through clenched teeth. “Come here.”

  Zoe leaned into her arms, small and warm. She put her cheek to Sarah’s. “I can stay with you. I can be quiet, you’ll see. I’m good at whispering. Like this.” She turned her lips to Sarah’s ear. “I know the password.”

  Sarah nearly jumped. “What?”

  Quieter than a breeze, Zoe said, “I heard you talking to Nolan. You need a password. I know it.”

  “How do you know it?”

  “But it’s not secret. The password is Zoe Skye.”

  Sarah leaned back. “Why do you think that?”

  “It’s in the tree on Nolan’s back, in the tattoo.” She curled against Sarah’s chest and whispered again. “But that’s not the real password. For you and me.”

  Was she thinking of her school pickup password? “What?”

  Soft as sunlight, she said, “I love you, Mommy.”

  Sarah seemed to feel the light in the air condense and surround them. She held Zoe close. “I love you too.”

  For a moment she doubted herself and everything she was about to do. But she knew if she backed out, Zoe’s chances would be nil. Keeping Zoe within arm’s reach had only convinced the FBI and the clan that if they cornered Sarah, they captured their prize. She had to take a risk, and change course.

  “Right now you need to go with Danisha.”

  “Mommy, don’t. Please.”

  Her face looked close to crumbling. Sarah got a hitch in her breath. Don’t lie.

  “Staying with me right now won’t be safe. You need to be far away for a little while.”

  “What’s a little while? A little while was how long we were going to be on this trip.”

  “I need you to do this for me.”

  Zoe tipped her chin down and looked up from beneath her long lashes. “Are you going to tell me to be a brave girl?”

  Sarah almost laughed through a sob. “You’re already brave. Now I need you to put that bravery into action.”

  Zoe’s shoulders started to rise and fall. “When will you be back?”

  “As soon as I can. Maybe a day. Maybe tonight.” And though she knew it was tough, she said, “Hold on and know that I love you more than anything that’s ever been, ever.”

  Zoe’s dark eyes held hers, searching for lies. Finally, lip trembling, she whispered, “Okay.”

  Sarah stood, holding Zoe’s hand. Danisha came over, a messenger bag in her hand. She took out a little device that looked familiar. It was an RFID scanner.

  “Ready?” Danisha brushed Zoe’s hair off the back of her neck. “Hold still a sec, sugar.”

  She scanned the chip. With a beep, a set of names and numbers appeared on the scanner’s display. Using her phone, Sarah snapped a photo of the data.

  Danisha said, “Wait—there’s more.”

  She scrolled through the display. More names. Birth dates. Sarah felt off balance. “What the hell?”

  Sarah took more photos. She and Danisha glanced at each other. Danisha said, “Don’t know what all that is, but you want to forward those snaps to one of your other burn phones, and to your e-mail somewhere in the cloud.”

  “Yeah.”

  Increasingly uneasy, she helped Zoe get buckled in Danisha’s rental SUV. Before she lost control, she squeezed her daughter’s hand and kissed her little palm. She handed Mousie to her and shut the door.

  Danisha fired up the engine. Sarah walked around to the driver’s open door.

  “Hit the highway and drive straight through Alamogordo,” Sarah said. “Get to the front gate of Holloman Air Force Base and talk your way in.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Not even the Worthe family has the stones to attack an American military installation.”

  “Then I’ll get inside the wire. I have my Army ID. Sergeant Danisha Helms reporting to the Base Exchange for discount steaks and M&M’s.”

  “You’re the best. You know that, right?” Sarah said.

  Danisha’s eyes were fiery. “I know. Trust me.”

  Sarah blurted out a laugh, desperate and hopeful. She kissed Danisha’s cheek. “Godspeed.”

  She shut the door and knocked on the roof of t
he SUV with the flat of her hand. Danisha drove away.

  As the dust settled behind it and the scrunch of the tires faded, the quiet came upon them. Nolan stared at her.

  “What?” she said.

  “You just look like Beth. That’s all.”

  “People keep saying that.”

  “I loved her. I really did.”

  “Then let’s make it up to her,” she said.

  Ten minutes later, Lawless drove up.

  She stood still and waited for him to approach. He looked tired, squinting, unshaven. His black T-shirt and khaki jeans were the same ones he’d been wearing yesterday.

  He came straight up to her, ready for whatever she dealt. He said, “If you want to hit me, go ahead.”

  “I do. Later.”

  “I—”

  “Later.” The air pressed on them, heated and dense. “Just tell me whether you still have your star.”

  “I’ve got it. And nobody knows I’m here.”

  She had asked him not to tell anybody—yet. “Good to know.”

  She didn’t mean to sound cutting, but he took a breath.

  “After last night, I won’t blame you if you never trust a federal officer again. And I won’t lie—your safety has never been a priority for the Marshals Service. They knew about you from the start, and declined to take any jurisdiction or responsibility.”

  “They were told that my actions didn’t warrant law enforcement attention?” she asked.

  “By me.”

  “That’s why the Santa Cruz County Sheriff never investigated Nolan’s disappearance—”

  “They still have him listed as a missing person. But the case isn’t active.”

  “And Beth?”

  The pain in his eyes was acute and honest. “You know how her case was handled.”

  “Open. But you pressed them to leave it that way.”

  “I did. Her records are sealed. They presumed Nolan disappeared into WITSec with their baby.”

  He glanced behind her. “This is a surprise, to say the least.”

  Nolan ambled forward. He looked uneasy, not sure how to deal with Lawless. “Deputy Marshal.”

  Lawless didn’t smile. “You know that the Marshals Service has never lost a protectee in all its years …”

  “That’s one of the reasons I went into the program.”

  “That is, never lost a protectee who stayed with the program and didn’t try to return to his former life.”

  “You have no idea, man. It’s a cold way to live.”

  Sarah held up a hand. “And we’re back to ‘later.’ ”

  Lawless hadn’t moved, maybe still waiting for her to punch him in the jaw.

  She said, “Danisha has Zoe. She’s headed west to Holloman Air Force Base.”

  His eyes widened. He seemed to realize that the scope of her plans had changed. “What’s going on?”

  “A setup.”

  “Against?”

  “Harker. And the clan.”

  “Why are you planning to do that, exactly?” He looked like he was facing a wild dog, waiting for it to bite. “And how?”

  “I’ll explain later, but right now I need Nolan to phone Isom.”

  If Nolan had looked pale before, he now looked like Crisco. “Isom Worthe.”

  “I want you to tell him you’re ready to come home. You want to return to the family.”

  Lawless took a step back. “The family thinks he’s dead.”

  “The family thinks he’s missing. They think he got away.”

  “I’m not going back,” Nolan said. “No way. You’re crazy.”

  “I don’t want you to go back.” She put a hand on his arm. “I want to get you and me and Zoe out of this mess once and for all.”

  “And I’m gonna do that by telling Isom I’m alive? Isom’s running things for the whole bunch. I tell him I’m alive, they’ll track me down and kill me.”

  “You want to make it up to your daughter?”

  “You know I do.”

  “Then you can atone right now.”

  Lawless said, “Sarah, can you please explain?”

  “First, Nolan’s not actually going to turn up. He’s going to make a couple of phone calls and then he’s going to vanish back into the mist. Because you’re going to provide him with a fresh WITSec identity. Aren’t you?”

  Lawless simply stared. As if thinking, When did you get appointed my boss?

  “Nolan, you’re going to call Isom. First off, I know you have his phone number in your contacts. Because you’re smart.”

  She didn’t care how safe he’d been in Witness Security—she figured he had kept the family’s numbers as a fallback. They terrified him, but if all else failed he would have no option but to throw himself on their mercy.

  “Don’t deny it.”

  He didn’t. He tightened his arms across his chest.

  “And in any case, you have to convince Isom that there’s a reason you want to come back, and for them to keep you alive.”

  “Which is?”

  “You’re going to bring the prize. Zoe.”

  Lawless looked deeply unsettled, but only for a moment. “I know you don’t have any intention of letting that happen. But even to suggest it …”

  She held up a hand. “Bear with me. Nolan, it’s important that Isom think you’re willing to become the prodigal son and crawl back begging forgiveness. Because I want him to agree to bring you in.”

  “He’ll agree. He’ll agree with a 12-gauge fired into my face,” Nolan said.

  “You’re never going to see him. All I need you to do is be convincing,” she said. “And one other thing. Get him to have Grissom call you.”

  Nolan had started to look like he was ready to jackrabbit. But that stopped him. “I don’t want to talk to that rattlesnake.”

  “I know. I don’t either. And you won’t have to. All I need is Grissom Briggs’s phone number.”

  Lawless said, “What are you going to do with it?”

  She smiled. It felt grim and righteous. “I’m going to screw Grissom and the clan into a hole so deep, they’ll be dirt. And they won’t be able to come after me again—even more, they won’t want to.”

  61

  They took two vehicles down the twisting mountain road from Ruidoso. Grissom in Jadom’s Ford F-150 pickup, Fell and Reavy following not long after in the silver Navigator. Reavy’s wound had left her sleepless. Her eyes darted around the vehicle. She was edgy, hurting, and angry. She was eager to hurt somebody back.

  Others were coming. Grissom had contacted cousins up in Durango, across the Colorado line. The cousins had been driving all night; Grissom, Fell, and Reavy since dawn. Everybody was going to meet near Alamogordo. There they would wait and listen and vector whichever way the police scanner and Sarah Keller’s bank card pointed.

  “We need to get the girl today,” Reavy said. “I’m tired of this shit.”

  “We will,” Fell said. Get the kid. Trade her for Creek. Fair was fair. She ran her tongue over her lips.

  “Gonna shoot Keller where the round hit me, then six more times.”

  “We’ll see.” She pointed at Reavy’s phone. “Try again. If you can get a signal, call the prepaid card company.”

  Danisha was twenty miles down the highway toward Holloman Air Force Base when the state troopers flagged everybody to a stop. She rolled down the window and stuck her head out.

  Ahead, two cop cars sat crosswise across the road, blocking it. A trooper was setting up a barricade. ROAD CLOSED.

  Zoe said, “What’s happening?”

  “Don’t know.”

  She tried to see if they were searching cars, asking for ID, looking for a mother with a missing five-year-old. She wouldn’t pass muster. The color scheme in this car didn’t match.

  Ahead, a Toyota pulled out of line and turned around. It drove back the way it had come, passing them. A minute later another car did the same. Danisha waved. The driver slowed.

  “What’s
going on?” Danisha said.

  “Some kind of accident. Hazardous material, cops say. They got a radiation symbol on the barricade. Nobody gets in or out.”

  He drove away. She stared at the roadblock. Nobody got in or out? What kind of accident was that?

  No accident.

  It was a trap. Even if it wasn’t meant for her, it put her in a pen. Ahead, a trooper walked from car to car, leaning down to speak to each driver.

  She didn’t wait for him to reach her vehicle. She turned it around and headed back the way she’d come.

  The hairs on her arms stood up. She was driving on the only paved road to be found for fifty miles. She turned on the radio.

  “… the entire area is being quarantined. There is no confirmation from state or federal authorities, but we have it on reliable authority that it requires an emergency nuclear response.”

  She got out her phone.

  In the line of cars and trucks behind the roadblock, Grissom drummed his hands on the wheel and tried to see what the cops were doing up ahead. This road was lightly traveled, but already there were a dozen cars and SUVs and a big rig idling in the white desert sun.

  A truck drove past headed back the other way, driver’s window down, man leaning out to call at the vehicles he was passing. Shaking his head. He cruised up beside Grissom.

  “Accident,” the man called. “Bad juju, man. They’re talking nukes.”

  He accelerated away. Grissom waited. Nukes would be too lucky. Nukes would mean the chance of a lifetime for him to steal his dream weapon. No more scrounging dynamite, or stalking government stooges at federal courthouses. Just … boom. But this had none of the markings of that fulfillment. This had the markings of a police setup.

  Another car pulled out of line ahead and turned around. It was a red SUV that made a wallowing turn across both lanes and the shoulder. It gunned back this way and passed him.

  He sat motionless. Looked in the mirror.

  Danisha Helms was at the wheel.

  He waited for a yellow VW to pull out of line and turn around. Then he spun the steering wheel with one hand and pushed a number on his phone with the other. In two seconds, he was driving east, in the Helms woman’s dust.