the idea. He’d made a deep wipe of her mind, but he wasn’t sure how long it would last. In recent weeks his skills had become unreliable. Sometimes he could pull the faintest thought from a crowded room. Other times he could barely remember his own name.
And if the waitress reported the theft, the police would be watching for her car.
The truck horn blasted again and he swung open the restaurant’s grimy front door, smiling up at the nonfunctioning surveillance camera as he left.
The truck didn’t seem to be slowing down, and a second rig was straining up the hill maybe a hundred yards back. Cruz took in the Illinois plates and the muddy windshield. Long-haul trucker with no reason to stop at a crummy little diner three hours from anywhere.
He flipped up the collar of his stolen jacket. He liked the feel of the sheepskin lining and the soft suede body. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn a coat this nice.
Turning away from the well-lit parking lot, he melted into the trees while an owl called somewhere in the night.
An unmarked white sedan pulled into the parking lot from the other direction. Drawing back into the shadows, Cruz studied the two men who got out.
Hard faces. Concealed carry holsters.
If they hadn’t been sent by Ryker, they were sent by someone close enough that it didn’t matter.
The restaurant door opened. The waitress walked out, looking confused. She stared at the parking lot as if she didn’t know where she was, and the men from the white car started walking toward her—the last thing Cruz needed.
Somewhere the owl cried its two-note dirge and Cruz followed the sound, his eyes cold and focused.
The owl’s dark shape cut through the darkness, headed back toward the bright lights and the woman who was turning slowly, studying the parking lot. Like a sleepwalker, she crossed beneath the big mercury lamps, one hand shading her eyes.
“Ma’am, is something wrong?” The two men were walking faster now.
Cruz watched the owl with renewed intensity. He wasn’t going back into a cage.
Not ever again.
The owl circled, dropped. The second truck was up the hill now, motor racing as it picked up speed. Cruz focused, feeling pain behind his eyes, down his neck. But the pain brought power.
The owl folded its wings and plummeted, talons extended, striking the waitress, who covered her head vainly. Cruz focused on the attack as the owl surged upward and plunged again.
The men from the sedan were shouting now as they ran toward her.
The waitress stumbled and then ran out into the path of the oncoming lights….
And screamed.
MOONLIGHT CREPT SLOWLY across the old adobe walls. The kennels were quiet. A hawk cried somewhere in the night, and the long wings of a hunting owl hissed over the juniper trees.
Baby awoke suddenly, shooting to her feet and waking Diesel, who was curled up beside her. She sniffed the air, her body tense.
In the shimmering glow her fur looked like dark water beneath new ice. Only her eyes held the snap of heat and restless energy. Though she didn’t move, all the other dogs awoke.
Soon they were standing together, noses to the wind, painted in cold moonlight.
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