Matt’s mind went back to that night with Jessica Wheeler. His own skip in his step after he’d walked her home. Nearly four in the morning, and his smile so bright that it was probably visible on the black footpath. The path near the house where he saw the dark silhouette of his brother—in the letterman jacket and with that swagger—pushing a wheelbarrow toward the creek.

CHAPTER 5

Matt rode with his head resting on the back window of the Suburban. Rainwater pulsed along the glass.

Keller sat in the front passenger seat, cell phone pressed to her ear. For whatever reason, they didn’t take the chopper back to the city. He wasn’t sure how long they’d been driving. An hour? Two?

The SUV veered off I-87 and pulled into a Shell station. The agent driving, wearing sunglasses even though it was drizzling, got out and started filling the tank.

Keller twisted around. “I’m gonna get some coffee,” she said, opening her door. “Want anything?”

“A Mountain Dew would be great,” Matt said. “I need to wake up.”

Keller gave a disapproving frown and headed to the station’s small convenience store.

Matt’s thoughts returned to Danny. He imagined his brother in his cell, fighting the tears. What a terrible place, where any sign of emotion was taken as weakness, easy prey. He thought of his brother’s prison muscles and cold eyes.

Keller returned with a coffee and small plastic bag from the store. Instead of returning to the front seat, she got into the back next to Matt. From the bag she retrieved a bottle of water and an apple and handed them to him.

“They were out of Mountain Dew,” she said, clearly lying. “Anyway, at the academy they taught us that water will wake you up more than caffeine.”

“Is that so?” Matt said, eyeing the paper cup of coffee in Keller’s hand.

She gave him a knowing smile and took a sip. The driver started the engine, but Keller stayed in the back. Matt realized that she wanted to talk about something.

“Look,” she said as the SUV merged back onto the interstate, “I know this isn’t a great time, but we need your help with something.”

Matt straightened himself. Took a big drink of the water. “Sure.”

“The Mexican authorities are being difficult about”—Keller took in a breath—“about releasing your family to come home. They say they need an immediate family member to sign some papers before the bodies can be released.”

“Fine. I’ll sign whatever they send over.”

“That’s just it. They won’t just send the papers. They need someone there in person.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re working our diplomatic channels, but the locals are being a pain. They haven’t been particularly forthcoming with information, and they’re saying we need a family member there in person.”

“Why would they do that?” Matt asked.