Now Callaway was intrigued. A surveyor like that would know a thing or two about where to hide a body. Does he have a record?

She nodded. Domestic assault. Beat his wife on three separate occasionsthose are the ones the police documented, anyway. Last one? Came at his wife with a crowbar. Broke her jaw.

Shit, Callaway muttered. Sounds like a real keeper. Where can we find this Prince Charming?

Harleys voice thrummed with excitement. I called the Bureau of Mine Safety. Turns out they keep trackers on all their vehicles for the safety of their employees.

Callaway hardly dared to hope they could be so lucky. Are you gonna tell me he still works for the company?

Harley smiled and held up her phone, which showed a set of GPS coordinates. And I know right where we can find him.

* * *

Callaway scanned the desert as the truck bounced along the rutted road, taking them deep into the hills south of Truth or Consequences. He was looking for a white GMC pickup with lime-green stripes on the sides, hoping they would see the surveyor before he saw them. The man would talk, one way or the other. But it would get a lot more interesting if he decided to run.

What was his name again? Callaway asked, glancing at the mountain range rising on his left. Turtleback Mountain, the largest one was called. The ridges, separated as they were by valleys, looked like the knuckles of a hand. Callaway had hiked the spine of those mountains (there were few places in New Mexico his boots hadnt touched), and the sight gave him a thrill as he remembered a particularly beautiful sunset he had watched with his wife.

Grady Lucas, Harley read, consulting her phone. Fifties, divorcedgo figure. Most of his posts are about guns, UFOs, and truck rallies.

Sounds like a real American, Callaway observed dryly.

If hes our guy, hell know we didnt come out all this way on a hope and a prayer. He could be ready to run.

Or fight.

They came over a hill and spotted the pickup in the valley below them. Beside it, set in the side of a crumbling hill, stood a dark hole. A number of weathered boards, which Callaway guessed had once been used to cover the mine, lay in a dusty heap on the ground.

He must be in there, Harley said in a low voice.

Lucky us, Callaway muttered.

Driving slowly so as to make as little noise as possible, Callaway rolled the truck down the hill and then parked behind a fold in the land that hid the truck from the mouth of the mine. That way, Lucas wouldnt see their vehicle when he came strolling out into daylight.