Harley honked her horn. The truck stopped, and she could see Callaway looking around. She honked again, and he spotted her.

Callaway pulled up beside her. He glanced at the trash on the seat beside her, then met her eyes. He shook his head pityingly. You volunteered for this, you know, he said.

Yeah, yeah, she muttered. Someone has to do the grunt work. You get the warrant?

Callaways fingers danced listlessly on the steering wheel as he stared ahead. Insufficient evidence.

What? Harley couldnt believe it. You connected all the dots for him?

Callaway nodded. He agreed its fishy, but not enough for a search warrant. This guy is connected, Harley.

Your friend tell you that?

Said that short of finding a dead body in that house, Roth is untouchable. Said were playing with fire.

He glanced away, and Harley had the impression he was holding something back. Before she could ask, however, he turned back toward her.

Any luck with the license plates? he said.

Weve got four, five different vehicles, all sedans with tinted windows. My guess is theyre shuttling guests to and from the airport.

Im surprised he doesnt have his own private landing strip, Callaway groused. He could at least use limos.

Not sure limousines are designed for off-roading, Harley said dryly.

Fair enough. He scratched his chin. Something tells me theyre chauffeuring more than elite white men.

My thoughts as well. But unless they get a flat and have to climb out… She shrugged.

Harleys phone rang. It was Greg.

Hey, sis, Greg said, his tone amiable. You have a few minutes?

Harley glanced at Callaway, who was watching her.

Can I call you back? she said. Im in the middle of something.

A beat of silence. Then: I was just calling to ask if youd seen Dad. Hes been released from the hospital. Theyre still saying not to hope for too much, but hes a fighter. Its possible hes bought a little extra time.

Thats great news, Harley answered, feeling conflicting emotions: a flutter of hope that her father might survive longer than previously predicted, but also a stirring of unease for the same reason.

I take it you havent been to visit?

No, I havent had the chance, she said, mouthing Im sorry to Callaway.

Because youve been too busy with work, Greg answered flatly. It was a statement, not a question. The implication that Harleys priorities were out of order rankled her.

Thats right, she answered, an edge in her voice. Ive been busy chasing a killer. Speaking of which

Is that why you flew out here? Did you see your signal in the sky, telling you the world needed your help again?

Not wishing to air her dirty laundry in front of Callaway, Harley got out of the car and walked to the edge of the shady umbrella cast by the mesquites.