“Nope,” Luke said. He moved back to the front door, thumped it firmly, waited another thirty seconds, then descended the porch steps. Navigating the junk in the yard—still maintaining distance from the dogs’ cages—he noticed tire tracks in the driveway. He was no expert, but they looked recent, and wide enough apart to belong to a larger vehicle. A Ford Econoline, for instance.

Kitty had not only kept the windows closed, but locked the doors, as well. Luke heard the clunk of the lock disengaging as he neared the car.

“Not taking any chances, huh?” he said, slumping into the driver’s seat. He reached across Kitty and slammed his snub-nose back inside the glove compartment.

“I’ve seen dogs opening car doors on YouTube,” Kitty replied, throwing him a sideways glance. “You’re damn right I’m not taking any chances.”

Luke cracked a smile, despite the nervous tension racing through his body. A sigh followed, deep and worked. He wiped dust from his eyes.

“Nobody home?” Kitty asked.

“Not a soul,” Luke answered.

“So, what next?”

Luke sighed again and looked around. Ramón’s ranch was exposed on three sides, but sheltered to the east by sandstone outcrops daubed with shadow. They could sit up there unnoticed, and watch the day fall.

“We wait,” he said.

Luke went briefly off-road and parked behind a smaller outcrop. He and Kitty got out of the car, taking the large bottles of water they’d bought at a gas station on the Nevada state line. They started to climb. The cuts and ridges in the sandstone formed natural steps, so the going was mostly light. There were only a couple of places where they had to help each other, or grab handfuls of dry scrub in order to heave themselves onto the higher boulders.

“At least it’s cooled off,” Kitty said.

“Not enough,” Luke moaned.

They crested the outcrop, the breeze stronger and laced with dust. Lizards scampered over rocks and along the trunks of dead junipers extending from cracks in the sandstone like giant antlers. Luke palmed fat droplets of sweat from his forehead, then guzzled from his bottle of water. Kitty checked for rattlers and found a place to sit in the shade. Here, twenty-five feet above the desert floor, they had an elevated view of Ramón’s property. The shadow of the transmission tower stretched toward them like an accusatory finger. The dogs were still howling.

“You think he’ll be back tonight?” Kitty asked.

Luke nodded. “Someone has to feed those dogs.”

They sat silently for a moment, catching their breath, drinking water. The sun sank in degrees of deeper color. Luke estimated there was an hour of decent daylight remaining. The idea of approaching that house—and those dogs—in the dark did not appeal in the least.

Kitty screwed the cap onto her bottle, placed it on the rock between them, and asked Luke how he was feeling.