SUV THUNDERED down the highway and out of Trouble. Mike Strickland slammed his foot on the accelerator and veered onto an old dirt road leading into the hellish West Texas desert. When he finally brought the vehicle to a halt, he slammed it into Park and pounded the steering wheel with his fist. “Son of a bitch. Who was that guy?”
“The law,” his partner, Don Krauss, said, his tone dry. “You see the badge?”
Krauss could pass for everyman. He was great to have on the job because he excelled at blending into the background. His medium brown hair, medium eyes, medium height and nothing-special face got lost in a crowd.
Strickland had a tougher time. A scar from his marine stint and his short hair pegged him as ex-military. He could live with that. He tended to work the less subtle jobs anyway. But Krauss came in handy for gathering intel.
“No sheriff has reflexes like that,” Strickland said. “She should be dead. They both should be.”
“The girl avoided us for four days, and she’s just an analyst, even if she does work for the CIA. She’s smart. Switched vehicles twice and never turned on her cell phone.” Krauss tapped the high-tech portable triangulation unit.
All this equipment and a girl in a beat-up Chevy had driven over halfway across the country and avoided them. “She got lucky.” Strickland frowned.
Krauss let out a snort. “No, we got lucky when she used her ATM for cash. The only stupid move she made, but she cleaned out her account. We won’t be lucky again. And now she’s got help.” He hitched his foot on the dash. “If Ivy talked—”
“I know, I know.” Strickland scratched his palm in a nervous movement. In four days the skin had peeled, leaving it red, angry and telling. Not much made him nervous, but his boss... He forced his hand still and gripped the steering wheel, clenching and unclenching his fists against the vinyl. “We can fix this. Forensics will be sifting through what’s left of that car for weeks. I made sure it burned hot, and I’ve got friends in the local coroner’s office. If they stall long enough for us to provide two more burned bodies, no one will ever know. Everyone will believe the woman and girl died that night along with the rest of her family.”
“You blew her head off,” Krauss said. “Cops had to notice.”
“It hasn’t been on the news, has it?” Strickland said with a small smile.
Krauss shook his head. “I figured they were holding back details as part of the investigation.”
“Hell, no. First guy there threw her into the fire. Everyone else is keeping mum. They think it’s national security.”
“Lots of loose ends, Strickland.”
“I got enough on my contacts’ extracurricular activities. They won’t be talking anytime soon. They know the rules.” Strickland slid a glance at his partner. “You read the paper? Remember last year, that dead medical investigator? I had no choice. He was a loose end. Like the boss says, loose ends make for bad business.”
Krauss tugged a toothpick from his pocket. “Guess the boss was right in choosing you for this one, because we have two very big loose ends.” He turned in the seat, his normally sardonic expression solemn. “You ever wonder how we ended up working for that psycho? ’Cause I’m starting to regret every job we do.”
“For the greater good—” Strickland started, his entire back tensing. He cricked his neck to the side.
“Yeah, I might have believed that once,” Krauss said.
“Don’t.” Strickland cut him off. “Don’t say something I’ll have to report.”
“Says the man who’s hiding his screwup.”
“I don’t plan to be on the receiving end of a lesson,” Strickland said. “You talk and we’re dead. Hell, we’re dead if we don’t fix this.”
“I know,” Krauss said, his voice flat. “I got a family to protect. Let’s get it done fast, clean up and get the hell out of this town. I already hate Trouble, Texas.”
“No witnesses. Agreed?” Strickland turned the motor on.
“The sheriff, too? Could cause some publicity.”
“This close to the border, this isolated, there’s lots of ways to die.”
“I was right. Great, just great,” Garrett said under his breath, cradling a sobbing Molly in his arms.
He rocked her slightly. She tucked her head against his shoulder and gripped his neck, her little fingers digging into his hair. He held her tighter while his narrowed gaze scrutinized the alley behind his house. A chill bit through the night, and Molly shivered in his arms. He needed to get them both inside and warm, but not in the place he’d never called home.
Another thirty seconds passed. No movement. The shooter probably didn’t have an accomplice, but he couldn’t assume anything. Assumptions got people dead.
A quick in and out. That was all he needed.
He led Laurel into the backyard of the house James McCallister had purchased on Garrett’s behalf and closed the gate. He wouldn’t be returning anytime soon. His time in Trouble had ended the moment he’d tackled Laurel to the ground.
But he needed his go-bag and a few supplies. On his own, it wouldn’t have mattered. He shifted Molly’s weight in his arms. These two needed more shelter than to camp out in the West Texas desert in December.
Molly clung to him tightly. He rubbed her back and his heart shifted in his chest. God, so familiar. The memories of his daughter, Ella, flooded back. Along with the pain. He couldn’t let the past overcome him. Not with these two needing him. He led them to the wood stack.
“Give me a minute,” he whispered. “Stay out of sight, and I’ll be right back.”
He tried to pass Molly to Laurel, but the little girl whimpered and gripped him even tighter.
“It’s okay, sugar. Your aunt Laurel will take good care of you.”
With one last pat, he handed Molly to Laurel, his arms feeling strangely empty without the girl’s weight. Laurel settled her niece in her arms, her expression pained. He understood. “She’s just afraid,” he said.
“I know, and I haven’t protected her.” Laurel hunkered down behind the woodpile. She pulled out her pistol. “I won’t fail again.”
Laurel McCallister had grit, that was for sure. He liked that about her. “I’ll be back soon.”
He sped across the backyard, slipped the key into the lock and did a quick sweep of the house, eyeing any telling details. He couldn’t leave a trace behind. Nothing to lead any unwelcome visitors to his small cattle ranch in the Guadalupes or to his stashed money and vehicle.
Garrett pressed a familiar number on his phone.
“Sheriff? What
