They approached Lucass truck. When Callaway reached the passenger window, he saw an unbroken orange peel curled up on the console like a snake, a slew of papers littering the passenger seat and floor, a handful of ratchets in the back seat, and no Lucas.

Callaway sighed, disappointed. An empty truck meant Lucas was probably in the mine, which meant waiting for minutes or hours in the merciless desert sun, with no shade except the truck. Callaway loved a good stakeout, but not when he wasnt prepared for one. At least he had the gallon of water in his truck, which hed frozen the night before.

Harley, however, had other plans. As soon as she saw the truck was empty, she began moving toward the mine.

Woah, woah, woah, Callaway said, trotting to get in front of her. What are you doing?

Im going after him.

This rankled Callawayit was his case, after all, which meant he should take point.

If one of us is going down there, he said, it should be me. My case, my lead.

Harley shrugged. Suit yourself.

He drew his gun. Just please, stick around? If that thing collapses, Ill need someone to dig me out.

He paused at the entrance to click on his flashlight. The light did not penetrate farthe tunnel plunged down and away, disappearing from sight.

If this gets me killed, Callaway thought, Im definitely coming back to haunt her.

Forcing himself not to think about all the things that might go wrong, he moved forward. Before he had even escaped the sunlight, however, a nearby voice arrested him.

What are you doing? You cant go in there!

Callaway shaded his eyes as he studied the figure perched on the crown of a nearby hill. He wore a white hard hat and a floppy orange vest, and he held a large object in one hand. A suitcase? The sun was behind him, making it difficult to tell for sure.

Grady Lucas? Callaway called back, glancing in Harleys direction. To his surprise, however, he didnt see her. She must have gone back to the truck. She might be hiding behind it, waiting to see how this would play out.

The voice that answered was cold, hostile. Whos asking?

Were federal agents. Wed like to talk with you about these mines youve been mapping.

Several long seconds passed in silence. Callaway squinted, trying to see what the man held. A briefcase, maybe, though it seemed an odd thing to be carrying out in the middle of the desert.

Afraid Ive got nothing to say, came the answer.

Where are you, Harley? Callaway thought, trying to study the truck without turning his head.

Why dont you come on over, Callaway suggested in a friendly, folksy tone, and you can show us the good work youve been doing for the state?

After another long pause, Lucas began to descend the hill. He was walking toward his truck, not toward Callaway. Callaway moved to intercept him.