Sam didn’t hide her frustration. “We didn’t find any recording equipment just now. Or any cameras anywhere.”

Willy agreed. “They took everything with ’em, maybe for use elsewhere. I only found the two outside based on a hunch. They either forgot them, didn’t bother collecting them, or ran out of time. They would’ve taken some effort to remove, given how they’re mounted.” He gestured vaguely around the room. “Unlike what was probably hidden around here.”

Lester shook his head. “Another sign they’ve totally cleared out.”

Joe followed Sam’s example and made himself comfortable in a matching chair across from hers. “Any ideas where to?” he asked them.

The other two chose the long leather sofa, Willy putting his feet up on the coffee table. It felt a little odd, setting up shop in someone else’s mansion, evoking childhood chills of being discovered by adults and forced to move out.

“Do we have anything on Seamus beyond the pictures we took?” Lester asked. “In case we want to put out a public appeal? You know: ‘Have you seen this man’ kind of thing?”

“I’m hoping we won’t have to,” Joe countered. “Not to reward you two for pushing the boundaries, but we already have someone who knows him, assuming you and Willy can find the man in Keene who took Seamus to that cabin. Could be he knows where Seamus is hiding out, and, by extension, Lemuel Shaw.”

“Or just grab the cabin owner,” Les suggested. “We know where to find him.”

Joe didn’t agree. “Seamus drove to the apartment complex first, presumably from past experience. They went together to the cabin. The implication being Seamus didn’t know the cabin owner, and vice versa.”

Willy’s response was immediate and unequivocal. “I’ll find who you’re after.”

No one in the room doubted that.

Cody Wright was the name of Seamus’s drug contact, which Willy got by visiting the Keene PD, locating the appropriate detective, and showing her the photo he’d taken of both the suspect and the truck’s rear license plate.

“You got something on him?” she asked reasonably.

Reluctantly, Willy played coy, not wanting to go into details concerning that night. “I hope to get something on the guy he’s with,” he said instead. “He’s the one I want.”

“I know him?”

He saw no harm in that. “Seamus Kyle?”

She checked her computer before shaking her head. “Nope. Sorry.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I get that a lot about him.”

It wasn’t Willy’s style to merely knock on a man’s door and engage in conversation, at least not with someone he wanted to manipulate. There was the tactical aspect of gaining an upper hand in such an exchange, but with a seasoned, former sniper, it also boiled down to enjoying the chase.

As a result, it was late at night when—after tailing Cody Wright’s truck—he reached a seedy, self-proclaimed “social club” on Keene’s east side.

He wasn’t surprised, having researched Wright’s past misdeeds on the PD’s computer, and had thus already selected some old clothes and a greasy ball cap from his back seat.