I pray the FBI is doing all that.

But by the looks of the place, untouched, I have my doubts.

I’m stewing with real frustration now. I’m getting so close! But I’m still one step behind. The bastards are building bombs. Great. Where are they going to—

I notice something on the grimy garage floor, stop with the internal questions.

Tire tracks.

But weird ones.

The back-wheel tracks look thick and wide-set. The front ones are narrower and set closer together. No car on the planet that I’ve ever seen is built like that.

But tractors are.

And tractors are what pull Mardi Gras floats.

My knees feel weak. My scariest theory seems to be proving true.

These bastards are going to strike one of the final day’s parades. By hiding a bomb inside a tractor pulling a float.

But which parade? There are still a dozen left. And which float? There are hundreds! And who says it’s going to be just one?

Jesus Christ!

I snap a few pictures of the garage and tractor tracks with my phone. My hand is practically shaking.

I suppose it was worthwhile for me to trek all the way out here and search this property. There’s still so much I don’t know. But at least now I know what I don’t know.

And that shakes me to my very core.

CHAPTER 56

“Baby,” I say, beaming, “you sure are a sight for sore eyes.”

No, I’m not talking to Vanessa.

I’m looking at our food truck. Fully repaired. Back and better than ever.

New tires, a new windshield, all the damage to the body fixed, a fresh paint job. Even a tune-up and oil change for good measure.

Just in time for Mardi Gras, too.

Although after what I found in that garage yesterday, I’m not so sure that’s a good thing.

I can see Marlene through our new, crystal-clear plastic service window, bustling around inside like a busy little worker bee.

I call out to her. “I thought it wasn’t going to be ready till next week.”

“The shop told me a couple of their mechanics love our grub,” she answers. “They put in some extra hours to make it happen. I told ’em we’ve got free sandwiches with their names on ’em.”

I climb into the back of the truck and check out the interior. Wow. Given the awful state I saw it in last time, I’m stunned by how good it looks.

“Free sandwiches?” I say in disbelief. “We owe them a nine-course dinner!”