She’s just lost her family.

CHAPTER 71

WITH ARCHIE’S disappearance, I try not to panic.

So what do I do?

I panic.

I leap away from the chair in front of the computer terminal and race out to the center part of the library. A few quiet patrons are there, but there’s no well-dressed man with white hair and beard.

Damn!

I head outside, figuring if he’s still in the building, I have a chance of going back and finding him in there, and I slam through the door and nearly run over a young mom and her two young boys, and she yells a very well-deserved curse at me as I step out on North Main Street, frantically looking up and down the sidewalks.

Nobody.

I run to the shaded parking lot, hoping that Archie got bored and decided to return to my Jeep.

I skid up next to the Wrangler.

The interior is cluttered and filthy, but no Archie.

Damn it again!

I look around the parking lot, duck and look under the vehicles, trot over to the rear of the library. I disturb a few pigeons and that’s it.

You’ve lost him, comes the nagging voice. You’ve lost the key to freeing your family, and they’re going to die because of you.

I run back to the library.

Special Agent Rosaria Vasquez is driving as fast as she can in downtown Victoria, Texas, looking for the library. About fifteen minutes ago she got a quick and very frantic phone call from Senior Warrant Officer McCarthy.

“Nailed her,” he said. “She’s using a computer at the city library in Victoria, Texas, address is three-oh-two North Main Street.”

“Got it,” she replied, and hung up. What else was there to say?

The GPS on her Hertz vehicle is working like a charm. Up ahead is the square cement library, plopped right down in what looks to be a sparsely populated residential and light business district. Despite all that’s going on, Rosaria gets a warm feeling at seeing a public library. This one has a nice sign out front, the lined concrete looks warm and inviting—because there are books inside, no doubt—and the lawn is bright green and closely trimmed. In her troubled years growing up, it was never certain if there was going to be food in the house, or if your foster sisters would steal your stuff, or if your foster father would stare at you at bedtime, but one thing was certain: there would always be a building nearby that would take you in and would let you read as many books as you wanted, all for free.

Rosaria spends less than two minutes circling the library and then drives into its nearby parking lot.

Nearly slams on the brakes.

Black Jeep Wrangler, pulled into a space, under the shade of a tree.

Hidden from the street and backed in so someone could drive out quickly.

Rosaria slowly drives past the Jeep.

It’s empty.

She reaches for her leather bag, pulls out her SIG Sauer, lays it across her lap.