But finally, a ranch-style house appeared right in the middle of this nowhere. And as the SUVs slowed to a stop in front of a well-maintained single-story home, he saw his first sign of human life: an older woman who stepped out onto the porch with a stern expression on her face and a shotgun on her hip. Next to her stood a dark-brown dog the size of a Great Dane, but more broadly built.

Juan lowered his window. “Mrs. O’Reilly?”

“I’m Megan O’Reilly,” the woman said, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Mrs. O’Reilly, I just came from seeing Kathy—”

“Horsefeathers! She’s not around for you—”

“Mrs. O’Reilly, my name is Dr. Gutierrez. I just came from giving Kathy a checkup. I saw your husband as well.”

The dog began lumbering toward the car with his tail wagging.

“Jasper, hang back,” Megan ordered.

The dog froze, remaining on the porch as she approached.

Kathy’s mom lowered her weapon when she was no more than ten feet away. She glanced at the other SUVs as they pulled behind Juan’s car. “Do you have some ID?”

Juan pulled out his FBI contractor’s badge and his AgriMed business card. Megan walked forward, took them both, and studied them with a frown.

She held up the AgriMed card. “My daughter had one of these cards with her when she last visited.” She raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “She told me about you, and you know what, I think I recognize your voice. You called here a couple of times.”

“Yes, ma’am, I did. And now I’m here to try to help Kathy and your husband.”

Megan turned back toward the house and said over her shoulder, “Well, don’t just stay out here in the dirt. Come on in. I’ll fix you a lemonade and we can talk.” She gestured toward the agents who’d piled out of their vehicles. “Them too. I’ve got enough lemonade for everyone.”

One of the stone-faced agents leaned into Juan’s car and said, “We’ll take a quick look around first and then wait out here for you.”

Juan blinked at the woman, who in a heartbeat had gone from aiming a shotgun at him to inviting him and a bunch of FBI agents in for lemonade.

These O’Reilly women were an unpredictable bunch.

###

The agents elected to stay outside, which was probably for the best. Juan needed to talk to Megan about her family, and it was better to do that without a bunch of men taking over her living room.

She poured them two glasses of ice-cold lemonade, and they sat at the dining room table.

Juan took a sip—and puckered.

Megan smiled at his reaction. “I don’t like it too sweet, you see.”

“No, I like it this way.”