ROSARIA GETS back into her sedan, reaches out to her team leader in Quantico, and thinks, Well, that’s it. Captain Cornwall is gone with her family, and if she doesn’t report back within thirty days, then she’s officially AWOL and will be placed in the NCIC system so that even a random traffic stop anywhere in the States will pick her up.

By then, Captain Cornwall’s location and what she may be doing will no longer be any of Rosaria’s business, or that of the CID. It’s really not broadcast that much, but the Army pretty much ignores deserters. It’s a small percentage to begin with, and the Army has better things to do with its CID officers. Rosaria has about a half dozen open case files piled on her desk back at Quantico, and she’s happy that she can put Captain Amy Cornwall’s file in the inactive pile. She’ll let the CID crew in Afghanistan do their part.

Rosaria is content for about a minute, and then she holds the phone tighter to her ear and says, “Sir, I’m sorry? Can you repeat that?”

From Quantico, the rough voice of Senior Warrant Officer Fred McCarthy comes through loud and clear. “You heard me, Vasquez. The Amy Cornwall matter has escalated. You’re to find her, as soon as possible. Use any resources and travel as you see fit.”

“Boss…I’m sorry, I don’t understand. She’s not even officially AWOL yet.”

Her boss sounds irritated. “No matter. Go after her, right now. Go through her personnel file, see what might be driving her, talk to her coworkers, run her to the ground. This is now your priority.”

Rosaria doesn’t like for one moment what she’s hearing. Something odd is going on with some higher-ups, probably in DC, and chances are, when you’re dumped into something odd, you don’t emerge later with handshakes all around and a promotion. Usually you get transferred to Omaha, or end up testifying in front of a panel of hard-faced JAG judges.

“All right…boss. I’ll begin right away.”

“Good. Anything else?”

“Sir…do you know why it’s been escalated?”

Her boss says, “Vasquez, you’re a good investigator, one of our best. Locate her and get back to me soonest.”

“Sir, I—”

Senior Warrant Officer McCarthy interrupts. “Figure it out.”

McCarthy disconnects the phone call from his end. There was one more sentence Rosaria was sure her boss was going to add, but decided not to.

Figure it out.

Or else.

CHAPTER 18

I’M PARKED across the street from the regional library near Newport, Tennessee, after having driven for most of the night, save for a several-hour nap at a truck stop on I-81 near someplace in Virginia called Max Meadows. Using the atlases and maps stored in my go bag—and without going online or leaving ghostly traces from any GPS unit—I know that it takes around twenty-five hours to go from Alexandria to my final destination of Three Rivers, Texas.

This gives me plenty of time, but I’m not going to race down there at a high rate of balls-to-the-walls speed. I want to arrive in reasonably good shape, and with a hell of a lot more information than I have at the moment. Years back there was a story about a woman astronaut who supposedly made a high-speed run from Houston to Orlando while carrying adult diapers with her, so she wouldn’t lose time by taking bathroom breaks on her way to murder a romantic rival, but that’s too extreme, even for me.