The Ouachita Mountains had some high, rough country, and so did the Boston Mountains. She kept passing signs commemorating Civil War battles where up to three thousand men were killed over territory that must have seemed as remote and wild as Amazonia to some of them.

Lake of the Ozarks turned out to be a huge expanse of water full of giant cruisers, speedboats, Jet Skis, and drunken partiers. The minute Leah saw it, she was sure nobody would hide there.

She stopped in many small towns and wandered around. If there was a large gun store, she went there to look and listen, hoping to find people who were trying to make large purchases of ammunition or multiple identical firearms. She didn’t find any who made her suspicious enough to follow. She also spent time at food markets watching for people buying enough food for a few dozen people. She saw none of those either.

It occurred to Leah that if a fanatical group based in Oklahoma disbanded and had come back together to start up again in Missouri or Arkansas, they would have needed to find jobs. She might be able to use this information by making a list of the employers who hired large numbers of new arrivals without requiring degrees or credentials, and then watching the doors at shift changes.

Leah wasn’t looking just for the members of the Swift Sword of the Savior. She also had to look for people who were looking for the Swift Sword of the Savior. She didn’t want to find the group right as an army of federal investigators arrived.

While Leah was interested in the domestic terrorists, she had to be sure not to miss any federal agents. Either group would be carrying concealed weapons on their bodies and probably long guns in their vehicles. Seeing a suspicious bulge might be less than conclusive in this region because Arkansas was a “shall issue” state, where getting a concealed-weapon permit meant asking for one, and Missouri, a short drive to the north, didn’t require any permit.

Leah had spent her working life around law enforcement people of all kinds. She had some confidence that she could pick out a federal agent. She favored looking at shoes and watches. Usually if the person, male or female, was a federal officer, he would wear shoes with rubber soles and sturdy leather uppers, often with roomy box-toes reminiscent of combat boots. The agents also disproportionately favored watches with thin cases, dark faces with large numbers, a sweep second hand, and a fabric band. The women didn’t wear shorts or skirts unless every single other woman was wearing them, and no tank tops. They never wore dangling earrings or hoops.