The GPS had insisted they were on the right track to the billionaires ranch, but a few miles out from the highway Harleys phone lost its signal. Now, having driven another twenty miles on blind instinct, Harley thought it would be better to return to the highway and write down the directions on paper.

Well find it, Callaway assured her, swiveling his head as he studied the landscape. The land was mostly flat, open grassland with the occasional cane cholla. Farther off, junipers and small trees clung to the hills like ragged moss.

I thought it was supposed to be a huge ranch, Harley said, unable to understand how it could be so difficult to find an estate of more than ten thousand acres in such open country.

Do you think were on his land now? she added.

I think weve been on his land since we left the highway.

Harley searched for any signs of human habitation a shack, a string of barbed wire, even a herd of cattle but saw nothing except wilderness. The only sign anyone had been out this way was the set of well-worn tracks cutting through the grass. Harley just hoped it was the right set of tracks.

Its almost like he doesnt want anyone to be able to find him, she observed. Where are all the cattle? Isnt that why you buy this much land?

Thats the thing of it, Callaway answered. From what I hear, he got rid of the cattle. Demolished the original ranch, tooBlue Gates, it was called. Built his own hacienda in its place. I remember seeing all the trucks leaving the highway first couple of years, carting building supplies.

Must have taken ages to get everything out here.

When you have enough money… Callaway trailed off with a shrug.

Harley still could not understand why anyone would want so much property. Its one thing to buy thousands of acres for your cattle, she said. Its another thing to buy them for yourself. Whats the point in having so much land? It would take a lifetime just to see it all.

My guess? Its a buffer to separate him from the outside world. With that much land, you might as well call yourself a king.

Harley grunted. I dont think Ill ever understand men.

Callaway looked to be readying a witty reply when they crested a hill and found themselves staring at a high, white adobe wall topped with broken glass and coils of barbed wire. A pair of massive black gates guarded the entrance, which was watched by a pair of security cameras.

Harley searched in vain for a plaque, a sign, anything to indicate where they were.

Think hes compensating for something? Callaway said, lifting one eyebrow.

Or paranoid, she answered. She thought she distantly heard a percussive rhythm, but she couldnt be sure.

Callaway drove up to the gates. When nothing happened, Harley leaned out the window and held her badge up. Federal agents! she called.