Nate drove back to the sheriff’s station and skidded to a stop out front. He was heated, and Lucy didn’t think she’d be able to calm him down. Fortunately, they got back to the security office without too much trouble and the guard in charge of the cameras knew what he was doing. He quickly located Nate and Lucy leaving the building thirty minutes earlier. “Here you go,” he said, and let Nate take over.

It was a wide-angle lens that distorted the front parking lot, but they could see the entire area. They watched themselves leave the front of the building and turn left, to where Nate parked their car. They turned north out of the parking lot. From the south an SUV came into view and followed.

Nate rewound. They couldn’t see the SUV when it was parked—it was just out of the camera’s vision. But as soon as Nate turned onto the street, the SUV pursued, clearly waiting for them.

“Are there any cameras showing that side of the street?” Nate asked.

“No, sir, not ours.”

Across the street was an apartment complex set far back from the road, and to the south was a county maintenance facility on the other side of open space. It was most likely that the driver parked in front of the grass, which would minimize the chances they could get a clear visual of either the license plate or driver.

They thanked the guard for his time, then went across to the apartment office. It didn’t have any security cameras except on its own parking lot and, according to the manager, half the time those didn’t work. He hadn’t seen the SUV on the street, but he wasn’t looking.

A dead end.

“Why?” Lucy asked. “They only ran us off the road when we spotted them.”

“They want to know what we’re doing,” he said. “Track the investigation. Find out who we’re talking to. That was an experienced tail. Two cars, tinted windows, knew exactly how to maneuver. I should have been sharper.”

“We were in a residential neighborhood near a school,” she said. “They’ll show up again; we’ll be prepared.”

“Next time we come up here, we need a second car—either we split up or we get backup. I’m going to find out who those bastards are, and we’re going to take them down.”

Chapter Twelve

THREE YEARS AGO

Javier Olivera could fix anything, and in the three months Ricky had been living with him Ricky had learned more about cars, plumbing, and electricity than he’d known his entire life. Today, they were working on a truck. If Javier could get it running, he’d get a thousand pesos. Ricky thought that was a lot of money, but Javier laughed and said it was about fifty bucks in America.

“But here, it’ll go far.”