Two properties down stood an old Baptist church. The roadside sign read, “C me Wors p With s,” but it looked like years since anyone had taken them up on the offer. Not even God wanted to live here. Gibson pulled in and circled around to the back, where the Taurus couldn’t be seen from the road.

He took the binoculars and crouched behind a low brick wall to watch and wait. He checked his phone, but there was no cell service.

Hours passed.

It was a moonless night. A storm system rumbled to the south but passed without a drop of rain falling. There were no streetlights, so the only illumination came from the odd porch light or the faint blue of a TV flickering through a window. But the house where the Cherokee was parked was pitch black. If the lights were even on inside, he couldn’t tell, because the shades were drawn. It troubled him to think what might be going on inside.

He weighed the pros and cons of sneaking up to the house. Pro: he’d get a much better idea of what was going on inside. Con: they were armed, and he wasn’t. If they saw him, he wasn’t sure which way it would go. It was funny. This morning all he’d been worried about was that they’d chew him out. What a difference twelve hours made.

When Jenn and Hendricks finally moved, Gibson didn’t catch it until Hendricks started the SUV. The running lights came on, and through the binoculars he saw Jenn silhouetted against the SUV’s dome light. She pushed a figure out of the house. A black hood covered his head, but it was a man, judging from the broad, powerfully built shoulders. His arms were bound behind his back, so she used the back of his neck to guide him as she bundled him into the backseat. Then she got into the old station wagon parked in the driveway and pulled out behind Hendricks.

Gibson slumped behind the wall. Jenn and Hendricks hadn’t called in the feds. At least not yet, but he had a feeling that the feds had never been on their agenda. This wasn’t about bringing WR8TH to justice. This was about revenge. That’s why they had sent him home. What had Calista Dauplaise said to him in Georgetown? That the person responsible for taking Suzanne Lombard would pay. No, that wasn’t the word she’d used. Calista had said he would suffer.

Neither George nor Calista had any loyalty to Benjamin Lombard. They’d both borne the loss of Suzanne heavily. He had heard it in their voices when they spoke of her. The vice president didn’t know anything about this, and Gibson doubted that he ever would. This was between George, Calista, and the man who took Suzanne.