What now?

Phone the cops? ID herself as an Army CID investigator and ask for interagency assistance? Would they speedily respond or would they take their time, checking her out?

Rosaria circles around and returns to the Wrangler. She could park in front of it, prevent it from leaving.

She checks the license plates and sees they’re from Texas.

So. Stolen or legit? And if she were blocking a legit citizen, that could cause a stink, which would cause attention, and she doesn’t need attention now.

Rosaria pulls into an empty spot, steps out with her pistol at her side.

What she needs is to go into that library and find her AWOL officer.

Now.

CHAPTER 72

SLIGHTLY OUT of breath, I go up to the helpful young lady at the front desk and say, “Have you seen my grandfather?”

She looks up from her computer terminal. “Who?”

“The older man I came in with,” I say, and hold out my hand. “About this tall, white beard and hair, doesn’t talk, has on a nice suit.”

She shakes her head. “No…but I’ve been pretty busy these past few minutes. He might have slipped out without me seeing. Is everything okay?”

I look around at the tall book stacks and the doors marking study areas or small conference rooms. “No, not really,” I say. “He easily gets confused. I’m going to take a look around the stacks. If you see him, could you just try to keep him here, at your desk? Honest, he’s very gentle.”

My cooperative librarian says, “Should I call the police, ma’am?”

Hell, no, is what I think.

“Not yet,” I say, and then I walk fast into the areas near the closest bookcases.

Rosaria steps into the air-conditioned library and takes an appreciative sniff of the smell of books. Nothing like it in the world. Before she goes up to the main desk she slides her small SIG Sauer into the right pocket of her jacket, checking at her hip to make sure she has her handcuffs. When she gets to the desk a sweet, young heavyset lady steps up from her terminal and says, “Can I help you?”

She displays her gold shield and identification card. “Special Agent Rosaria Vasquez,” she says. “I’m looking for—”

The librarian smiles. “Oh, your friend must have called you then, am I right?”

Rosaria is still holding on to her IDs. “My friend?”

“Sure,” the librarian says. “I forgot her name, but she came in a while ago with her grandfather, a quiet old man, and asked if she could use one of the computers. They’re reserved for residents of Victoria, but she showed me her…that special ID, the one with the funny green letters.”

She puts away her identification. “Her Armed Forces identification card.”

“That’s the one!”

Rosaria takes in the open areas and the book stacks. “Do you know where she is?”

“Oh, out back there somewhere,” the librarian says. “She was looking for her grandfather. I guess he wandered off. She must have called you to come in and help, right?”