gets a crack at him. Border Patrol. Phoenix PD. DEA. Mexican authorities. And then we can forget about ever getting him prosecuted for what he did to your wife, or finding out what happened to her. I really don’t like where that leaves you in terms of the pending charges.”
“Is this how it’s normally done?”
“No.”
“Is it legal?”
Kalyn glanced at him. “Something you should know about FBI agents.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re always by the book.”
They were driving through residential neighborhoods now, the houses on steroids, lavish and ridiculous.
“How’d you become an agent?” Will asked.
“I was a cop right out of college. Did that for four years, went to law school. Then the Academy. Typical route.”
“Did you always know—”
“Look, I can’t do the ‘Is this what you always wanted to be when you grew up?’ conversation right now. I’m trying to get my head straight for this takedown.”
They rode in silence for another few miles, and then Kalyn turned into a gated community. At the guard station, she flashed her badge and creds. The gates opened, and they drove into one of the swankiest neighborhoods Will had ever seen, six- and seven-thousand-square-foot homes being the runts of the bunch, private security gates, driveways that looked like Jaguar and Porsche dealerships.
They followed Superstition View Boulevard up the lower flanks of a brown mountain turreted with rock outcroppings and desert flora. The properties were exquisitely and exotically landscaped. Hundreds of species of cacti. Yuccas. Rocks in place of grass.
A mile past the guard station, Kalyn pulled over to the curb.
“This it?” Will asked.
“Next house on the right. You got your cell with you?”
“Yeah.”
Kalyn took hers out of her purse. “Give me the number.” She programmed Will’s number into her phone, then turned off the engine and opened the door.
“Wait. I thought—”
She tossed him the keys, said, “Leave your cell on and hop in the driver’s seat.”
“No, I want to know exactly how this is—” She shut the door and walked quickly up the road, disappearing behind a row of hedges. He scooted over behind the wheel. With the AC off, the heat soon became unbearable.
Will was sweating again. This felt all wrong.
He turned, looked through the back window. The road had risen several hundred feet above the city of Scottsdale. He had a commanding view.
Thirty miles to the east, mountains soared over the desert, looming mythically in the afternoon sunlight.
He thought about Devlin, hoped she’d found something to do to pass the time.
His cell rang. Kalyn calling. “Hey,” he said.
“Bring the car into the driveway now.” There was noise in the background.
“Did you—” She hung up. Will shoved the keys into the ignition and cranked the engine. He gave the Buick a little gas, edged toward the driveway, readying himself to see the man who’d taken Rachael. Surprisingly, he wasn’t angry, just nervous and scared, wanting to get this over with, get back to Colorado with Devlin.
When he turned into the driveway, he caught an eyeful of the sprawling multi-level residence, lots of steel, glass, and adobe, like something that belonged in a textbook on modern architecture. A virtual forest of saguaros and organ pipe in the front yard. Two cars in the driveway—a black Land Rover and a silver Lotus.
He pulled up behind the sports car, palms sweating on the steering wheel.
Where are you, Kalyn?
Every passing second, this whole thing was feeling worse and worse.
The front door finally swung open. He exhaled, dizzy.
Here we go.
But a boy walked out. He had dark hair and eyes, light brown skin. Next came a thin blonde wearing hot pants and a purple halter top, red-faced, barefoot, her hands cuffed behind her back.
They walked down the steps and onto the sidewalk, Kalyn following, a gun in her hand.
What the fuck?
Will watched as they all approached the car. Kalyn opened the
“Is this how it’s normally done?”
“No.”
“Is it legal?”
Kalyn glanced at him. “Something you should know about FBI agents.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re always by the book.”
They were driving through residential neighborhoods now, the houses on steroids, lavish and ridiculous.
“How’d you become an agent?” Will asked.
“I was a cop right out of college. Did that for four years, went to law school. Then the Academy. Typical route.”
“Did you always know—”
“Look, I can’t do the ‘Is this what you always wanted to be when you grew up?’ conversation right now. I’m trying to get my head straight for this takedown.”
They rode in silence for another few miles, and then Kalyn turned into a gated community. At the guard station, she flashed her badge and creds. The gates opened, and they drove into one of the swankiest neighborhoods Will had ever seen, six- and seven-thousand-square-foot homes being the runts of the bunch, private security gates, driveways that looked like Jaguar and Porsche dealerships.
They followed Superstition View Boulevard up the lower flanks of a brown mountain turreted with rock outcroppings and desert flora. The properties were exquisitely and exotically landscaped. Hundreds of species of cacti. Yuccas. Rocks in place of grass.
A mile past the guard station, Kalyn pulled over to the curb.
“This it?” Will asked.
“Next house on the right. You got your cell with you?”
“Yeah.”
Kalyn took hers out of her purse. “Give me the number.” She programmed Will’s number into her phone, then turned off the engine and opened the door.
“Wait. I thought—”
She tossed him the keys, said, “Leave your cell on and hop in the driver’s seat.”
“No, I want to know exactly how this is—” She shut the door and walked quickly up the road, disappearing behind a row of hedges. He scooted over behind the wheel. With the AC off, the heat soon became unbearable.
Will was sweating again. This felt all wrong.
He turned, looked through the back window. The road had risen several hundred feet above the city of Scottsdale. He had a commanding view.
Thirty miles to the east, mountains soared over the desert, looming mythically in the afternoon sunlight.
He thought about Devlin, hoped she’d found something to do to pass the time.
His cell rang. Kalyn calling. “Hey,” he said.
“Bring the car into the driveway now.” There was noise in the background.
“Did you—” She hung up. Will shoved the keys into the ignition and cranked the engine. He gave the Buick a little gas, edged toward the driveway, readying himself to see the man who’d taken Rachael. Surprisingly, he wasn’t angry, just nervous and scared, wanting to get this over with, get back to Colorado with Devlin.
When he turned into the driveway, he caught an eyeful of the sprawling multi-level residence, lots of steel, glass, and adobe, like something that belonged in a textbook on modern architecture. A virtual forest of saguaros and organ pipe in the front yard. Two cars in the driveway—a black Land Rover and a silver Lotus.
He pulled up behind the sports car, palms sweating on the steering wheel.
Where are you, Kalyn?
Every passing second, this whole thing was feeling worse and worse.
The front door finally swung open. He exhaled, dizzy.
Here we go.
But a boy walked out. He had dark hair and eyes, light brown skin. Next came a thin blonde wearing hot pants and a purple halter top, red-faced, barefoot, her hands cuffed behind her back.
They walked down the steps and onto the sidewalk, Kalyn following, a gun in her hand.
What the fuck?
Will watched as they all approached the car. Kalyn opened the
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