“I’ve got two more years for the full package. We can’t afford for me to go early. We took a hit in the recession. The house isn’t worth as much, and we’ve got two college tuitions coming up.”

“I don’t care. I’d be happy if you were doing something that didn’t involve people trying to hurt you.”

“It’s not that bad. This thing with Frames is an exception.”

“What about that officer killed last year, Ray something?”

“Fessler. Narcotics. Something went wrong undercover.” Rivas pushed back his chair. “I’ve got to go back to work.”

Teresa struggled to smile. “I’m not going to worry about you, Danny. You know that, right?”

“I know. You have your limits: ‘The human heart has only two chambers, Daniel, and you gave me two boys to love.’ I’m on my own. Besides, anything happens, the death benefits are pretty decent. Pay for the boys’ college, get yourself the Boxster convertible you always wanted, the red one.”

“No, silver.”

“All right, silver. You’ll be good in silver, your hair blowing in the wind.” He looked across the table and saw her eyes fill. He reached out and held her hand.

“Remember when you started?” she asked. “I said, don’t say you’ll be safe, don’t make me promises you can’t keep.”

Rivas squeezed her hand and smiled. “No promises, mi cariño. No promises.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

(i)

(THURSDAY, 7:02 P.M.)

Thackrey picked up his vibrating phone. “Thought you’d never call.”

“We’re a little busy. Vic’s destroying anything that could be traced to us. We’re leaving in the morning. You should, too. Where are you?”

“Residence of one Edward Mahler.”

“Oh, fuck. You really did it?”

“Yeah. I’m sitting on the floor in the master bedroom, north by northwest.” Thackrey took a drink from the bottle beside him and tasted the sharpness of the cold beer.

“Any trouble getting in?”

“Not much. You’d think a cop would expect the worst. But he’s got a middle-grade alarm system. Magnetic sensors on the doors, front and back. Glass-break sensors on the windows.”

“Motion sensors?”

Thackrey drank from the bottle again. “Nope. Like I said, middle-grade. The guy must not have any shit worth stealing.”

“Are you drinking something?”

“India pale ale. Found it in the fridge.”

“Jesus, Ben. You didn’t fuck with the wires on the outside box, did you?”

“No, I did not, because my little hadji friend advised me not to. The keypad is beside the front door. I did a search on the brand name and found it requires an alphanumeric password with at least eight characters. Used a password-capture software to get the pass code.”

“You are taking precautions, right?”

“Gloves and disposable shoe covers like we used on our last endeavor. Should I have a condom pulled over my head?”