"Given the number of Sandovals dodging in and out of the Senator's life, and Liza's, it easily could have been a Sandoval who had knowledge of the incest and/or the substitute son, and therefore a reason to blackmail the Senator and/or the governor. God and the county sheriff know that some of the Sandovals have the means and mind-set required for crime." Carly muttered unhappy words under her breath. "The list of possible circumstantial suspects has just exploded. No wonder that kind of evidence is viewed with suspicion."

Dan closed his eyes and tried to do what he'd been trained to do. Find patterns.

Forget how close you are to the problem. Take your own advice.

Pieces of the puzzle. That's all. Not people. Just pieces.

But he kept remembering how it had felt to have Carly go dead limp against him, kept remembering the endless time marching up and down that frozen road, kept realizing how close Carly had come to dying.

Chapter 64

CHIMAYO

MONDAY EVENING

"IT'S RUBIN," ANNE SAID, HOLDING JOSH'S CELL PHONE OUT TO HER HUSBAND.

"He won't take no for an answer."

"I was expecting it," Josh said, taking the cell phone. "Hello, Mark."

"You sound like a frog."

"I told you I needed downtime. Now I've got a cold."

"Flu," Rubin corrected instantly. "Only plebes get colds."

"What couldn't wait until Wednesday?" Josh asked, then covered the phone and sneezed. "Sorry, what was that again?"

"Dykstra," Rubin said. "She's on the air every ten minutes pumping the blood test thing. The networks have picked it up. Even the New York Times is looking interested."

"Slow news week." He sneezed again.

"Yeah. So let's put our spin on this. I want you to do a sit-down with Jansen Worthy."

Josh looked surprised. "Going right to the top, aren't you? He's been anchoring a major news show longer than most people have been alive."

"It's called clout and credibility. He has enough of both to bury Dykstra. So go on his show and tell the voters about your personal and recent losses, that sort of thing."

"You want me to play the sympathy card."

"Hell, yes. You've lost a father, a mother, and a beloved aunt-"

Josh's sneeze sounded more like a laugh of disbelief.

"-and now this wannabe news bitch is doing the vulture thing with your life. Not satisfied with intruding on your grief, she's demanding that you prove what everybody already knows, and she's only doing it to hype up her flat ratings. She hasn't even waited for the test results to begin baying after you. Why? Because there won't be a story afterward. Now you know that elected officials are legitimate targets of interest to the media yada yada yada, but this is too much. If you can't make the interview good for a huge sympathy vote, you're no politician, and we both know you're a hell of a pol."

"How soon?"

"Tomorrow. Jansen is in Arizona on his ranch. He's agreed to fly with you to the ranch for an interview. The satellite relay stuff will be in place by noon."

"The ranch? Why not the governor's mansion?"

"Because this is personal," Rubin said patiently. "You're a grieving son, yada yada yada. Wear a dark sport jacket, plain cowboy boots, and jeans. Pale blue shirt, not western, just a shirt. When you're asked questions about your parents and aunt, pause a little, keep a stiff upper lip, and face the camera with manly emotional restraint. You know the drill. Any questions?"

"Just one."

"What?"

"I could have the blood results as soon as tomorrow. Is this charade really necessary?"

"I get you a freebie on the evening news with a powerful, sympathetic national institution, and you ask me if it's necessary}"

The governor sighed. "Sorry. Must be the fever."

"Take something for it. This is too important to blow. If you have the DNA results before the interview, give them to Jansen and let him shove them up Dykstra's ass. Then we can get on with something that matters, like winning votes."

Josh hung up and went to look for aspirin.

Chapter 65

TAOS

TUESDAY 10:00 a.m.

"How's it going?" Carly asked Dan.

He didn't look up from either of the computers he had in front of him. "I'm getting there."

"Where's that?" She stood and stretched the kinks out of her back. She and Dan had been working for four hours already.

"To the end of the charity food chain."

"Is that supposed to mean something?"

"If it means what I think it does, somebody was hosing the Senator for about nine thousand a month since at least 1986. Eighteen thousand, really. Two separate payments, separate charities."

Carly pushed back from the most recent of the diagrams of people and circumstances and geography she was drawing. She felt like a spider on acid, spinning a crazed web.

"Why two separate payments? Why not one?" she asked.

"Federal law requires banks to report any transaction over ten thousand dollars. It's a way to slow down money laundering."

Carly started to ask another question.

"Gotcha," Dan said, his voice oozing satisfaction.

"What?" she asked, forgetting her own question.

"Two of the automatic monthly charitable contributions the Senator made were to a laundry. Nine thousand bucks in the charity accounts, but somehow the amount never gets recorded. The amount minus transfer fee goes on to an account in Aruba. No name. No number. No way of tracing who's getting fat. At least there's not supposed to be, but there always is. Otherwise no one could collect on the Aruba end."

She started to ask another question, stopped, and waited while Dan's fingers flew over the keyboard. There was no hesitation now. He was a hound on a hot scent, running flat out to overtake the prey. He typed in a final sequence of commands and sat back, waiting for the computer to run some names to ground.

"Looks like you've done that before," she said.

"That's what I do, chase black money. Charities are a particular favorite. It looks really tacky to investigate good intentions. Like asking your mother if she was a virgin when she got married."

Carly stayed with the part of the conversation that mattered to her. "Okay, you find black money. Then what happens?"

"Depends on what the client requested. Usually there's a finder's fee, anywhere from twenty to forty percent of what's recovered."

"Recovered?"

"The ransom in a kidnap. Blackmail like this. Property stolen in such a way that the client has no recourse in law. Black money in a warlord's or narcotraficante's account. That sort of thing."

"Is that legal?"

"Mostly."

"And when it isn't?"

"It isn't." Dan looked away from the line on the screen that showed how close the program was to being fully executed. "That a problem?"

"Um…"

He smiled. "I'm not talking civil penalties if I'm caught, Carolina May."

"You're talking 'climbing accidents'?" she asked.

"Yes."

She blew out a breath. "You go, um, climbing very often?"

"This was the first time since I quit working for Uncle Sam. Somebody else was supposed to make the physical connection, but her baby came a month early so I pinch-hit for her."

Carly opened her mouth. Closed it. "Does that happen often?"

"Early babies?"

"Pinch-hitting."

"No."

"Thank you, God."

Dan pulled her down onto his lap. "Does that mean you're not going to run screaming because I don't have a regular nine-to-five gig?"

She combed her fingers through his thick, dark hair. "Do I look like I'm running and screaming?"

His computer made an I'm finished sound.

Both of them looked at the screen.