When he reached the driver’s door, he drew his phone from his pocket and turned it off. Another breach of regs, but he was going to save that family and he did not care to listen to her yelling at him. When she felt helpless, she could get abrasive.

Maybe they’d made love just the one time, but as surely as if the preacher had tied the knot, they were married, or rather, he was. Perhaps that was why he lived in such an anguish of longing, not to say jealousy.

He grasped the door handle and pulled—and almost pulled it off the vehicle, because the door was locked. Of course it was. Richardson would not have failed to secure.

Well, the locking mechanism on an elderly Ford was not going to be that difficult. He pulled the handle, dropped it, then yanked it back before the spring had loosened completely.

The door swung open and he slid into the driver’s seat, drawing the door closed, but not all the way. The sound of a car door shutting was worse than feet crunching on gravel.

For a moment, he sat still, running his fingers under the dash. He had the van hot-wired and running almost faster than he could have started it using the key—and here was a sound they could not fail to notice. He threw the van into gear—and saw a face at the window, staring in at him.

“Help you, boss?”

Richardson was good. “You sleep too shallow, Private.”

“My vehicle wakes up, I wake up. Sir.”

“Look, I’m going back out to that farm, and I’m doing it alone.”

“Unwise, sir.”

“Thank you, Private.”

The enlisted man stepped back from the door.

Mark guided the van out of the parking lot and accelerated onto the road, feeling the vehicle’s weight, listening to the engine strain. But why shouldn’t it strain, the thing was full of people.

He had, of course, known that Richardson was a decoy, and that the team had slipped into the van’s bay while the diversion was in progress. He continued to drive, giving them no indication that he was aware of them. But they didn’t need one. They knew that the feel of the van would reveal their presence. Since he didn’t turn around and take them back, they prepared for action, pulling on their carries and arming up.

As he approached the farm, he slowed. Carefully, he regarded the farmhouse. Red tin roof, white siding recently applied over old boards. Two windows were upstairs, two down with a front door between. The door was disused, meaning that the family action was in back. Behind the house, he could see part of the roof of a barn, and another outbuilding, a garage.