Park’s dark eyes were like mirrors. “Detective Somerset, I want you to oversee an expanded search of Sexten.”

Frowning, Somers tried to adjust to the sudden change in the conversation. He settled for: “That’s a big job.”

Park smiled. “You think it’s a pointless job.”

“I think I have a lot of skills that could make me useful to this investigation in other ways.”

“This is what I was afraid of.” Park extended the pack of candy cigarettes, but Somers shook his head; the grit and the taste of pure sugar lingered in his mouth, and he thought he had a headache coming on. Pocketing the pack, Park added, “When you’re on the ground, you’ve got a different point of view. Some jobs look pointless. You want to know why. I’m telling you, from up here, from a tactical point of view, that’s what I need you to do.”

Somers was suddenly glad that Hazard wasn’t here. He could imagine what the big man would say.

“Something funny, Detective?”

Shaking his head, Somers said, “Thinking about somebody I used to work with.”

“I’ll have a couple of uniformed officers meet you at the industrial park; I’ll be redeploying some of my resources over the next few days.”

On the ground. Tactical. Redeploying.

“Do I have sugar on my lips?” Park asked, brushing the back of her hand across her mouth.

“You’re clean.”

“I’ll be looking forward to your report, Detective.”

“Agent Park, I don’t think we should be holding Wesley. We don’t have anything, frankly, that’s strong enough for an arrest.”

Park eyed him, her dark eyes unreadable. She held her hand flat at her waist. “Ground level, Detective Somerset.” Then her hand came up to her eyes. “Tactical.”

She didn’t stick around for a response.

Working his tongue around the inside of his mouth, trying to clear out the last of the grit, Somers headed for the Mustang. Hazard’s suspicions about Darnell. Bad cops. Make-work from the FBI. A long day was getting longer every minute.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JULY 3

WEDNESDAY

10:58 AM

HAZARD SCANNED DARNELL’S LOT as the Mustang rolled to a stop. The doublewide trailer sat at the end of a gravel road, surrounded by tall trees: mostly pine, with some oak and hickory. The trailer’s front door was propped open with a BUSH’S BAKED BEANS box, and at the bottom of the steps, a U-Haul waited. The back of the truck was mostly full. A mattress stuck out past the gate, and a lamp had fallen on its side. A grocery sack full of paperbacks was slowly avalanching toward the ground. One of them lay with its cover facing up; it featured two very skinny twinks wrapped around each other. Under a scrim of pine needles, Hazard could read the title: My Secret Bestie.

“That,” Hazard said. “That’s more proof right there.”

“I need you to bring it down a level,” Somers said, rubbing his eyes. “It’s been a shit day already, and I’m really trying here.”