With Bozo happily downing his kibble, Brandon took a beer from the fridge and joined the dog on the patio. The sun was down. Evening chill was leaching the warmth out of the dry desert air, so Brandon turned on the outdoor heater before he sat down. Yes, he was tired. It had been a long day, but in the twenty or so hours since he last sat in that same chair, he’d accomplished a lot. Back then he’d been wrestling with the question of John Lassiter’s guilt or innocence. Tonight he was squarely on the innocence side of the equation. Last night he’d learned for the first time that Big Bad John had a daughter. Today he’d met the woman and liked her, too.

Brandon glanced at his watch. The fact that Lassiter’s surgery had gone on this long was worrisome. Would he make it? And if he did, would he and Amanda manage to eke out some kind of relationship? Brandon understood that outcome was up to him. Would he be able to establish John Lassiter’s innocence in a way that would finally make it possible for the man to come face-­to-­face with his own child?

Brandon’s phone rang, and Dan Pardee’s name appeared in the window. “Hey, Dan,” Brandon said. “How’s it going?”

Dan didn’t return his father-­in-­law’s greeting. “Have you heard anything from Lani?”

The anxiety in Dan’s voice was enough to make Brandon sit bolt upright in his chair and slam his open beer bottle onto the table. Brandon’s abrupt mood swing caused Bozo to abandon his kibble and come over to stand close to his master’s knee.

“I tried calling her, but it went to voice mail,” Brandon said. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“She’s gone, Brandon.” Dan’s words came out in something just short of a sob. “We were searching the airport at Sells for Tim and Gabe. She told ­people at the hospital that she was coming to join us, but she never showed up.”

“Sells has an airport?” Brandon asked. “Why were you searching there?”

“The FBI obtained a warrant for Tim José’s cell phone. The last ping on that came from somewhere on or near the airport grounds. Hulk and I were late to the game and were sent to the far end of the airport. As soon as we made it back to the main group of searchers, Hulk alerted at the entrance to one of the buildings, a Quonset hut that was locked down tight. Leo Ortiz used a blowtorch to get inside, and that’s where we found the boys.”

Brandon felt a rush of relief. “Are they all right?”

“They’re both at the hospital, being treated for dehydration. Tim is in far worse shape than Gabe is. I think they’ll keep both of them overnight at least, but it was when we got to the hospital that I learned Lani wasn’t here. Lucy Rojas said she was going to join the search, but she never showed up. She isn’t at home, either.”

Dan’s words had poured out in such a rush that Brandon had to struggle to keep up. “You’re saying the boys were locked up in a garage?”

“They were actually imprisoned in a concealed compartment in a pickup that was locked inside a garage. It’s a Toyota Tundra with a false bottom on the bed and a camper shell over the top.”

“Whose truck?”

“A guy from here on the T.O.—­Henry Rojas, who, I’m sorry to say, happens to be one of the Shadow Wolves. His wife’s car was found near the airport. We assumed that Rojas was somewhere near where he’d left her vehicle. Hulk and I helped with that search, too. Hulk picked up a scent all right, but he lost it on the shoulder of the road a dozen car lengths or so from the gate to the airport.”

“You think he abducted Lani?” Brandon asked.

“I don’t think: I know. I pulled some strings and got the officers at the Three Points checkpoint to review their video feed. Lani’s Fusion passed through there half an hour ago with Henry Rojas at the wheel and Lani—­or someone who looks like Lani—­asleep on the passenger side.”

“The guy has to be beyond desperate to pull a stunt like that,” Brandon said. “Any idea where he’s headed?”

“None. The FBI has posted a BOLO. I gave them permission to go after our phone records, but once again, they’re insisting on getting a warrant first. They have to because there may be patient privacy issues with both Lani’s phone and her computer. Once they have the warrant, they’ll be able to trace her, but for now we’re stuck.”

“Wait,” Brandon interjected. “Are you saying Lani has her phone with her?”

“I can’t imagine that she doesn’t,” Dan replied. “She’s a doctor. The ringer is usually turned off, but the woman doesn’t go anywhere without her phone. Why?”

“Good-­bye, Dan,” Brandon said. “I’m hanging up now.”

“But—­”

“I’ll get back to you.”

Abandoning Dan midsentence, Brandon searched through his recent calls list. He found the one he wanted—­the phone belonging to Todd Hatcher—­a few calls earlier on the list. Brandon punched the number. When it rang, a woman answered.

“It’s for you,” she said, passing the phone along to someone else.

“Brandon Walker,” he said when Todd came on the line. “I hope you don’t mind my calling you back directly, but we’ve got a situation here—­a serious situation. I need your help.”

Only after finishing the call to Todd did Brandon call his wife. Diana was laughing as she answered. “Hey,” she said. “This turned out to be fun. You should have come along after all.”

“How much have you had to drink?” Brandon asked.

“A ­couple of glasses of wine,” she said. “Why?”

“Do you have a designated driver?”

“Brandon,” Diana said indignantly. “What the hell?”

“Do you?” he insisted.

“My publicist is a Mormon girl who doesn’t drink at all. So, yes, Mr. Busybody, I do.”

“Good. You need to leave the restaurant now and have her drive you straight to Lani’s place in Sells.”

There was a moment of silence on the phone. “To Sells? Why? What’s happened?”

Brandon squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to say what was coming next, but he had no choice.

“A man named Henry Rojas is the one who killed Carlos and Paul José,” he said. “Now he’s taken Lani.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Not kidding. Dan says they found Gabe and Tim, and they’re okay, but Lani is gone, along with her Fusion. You need to go help with the kids.”

“What about you? Can’t you drive me? Shouldn’t we both go?”

“I’m at the house waiting for someone who may be able to give us a line on Lani’s cell phone. I’m going to wait here until I hear back from him.”

“Shouldn’t the cops be doing that—­tracing her phone?”

“Maybe they should,” Brandon said, “and maybe they are, but she’s my daughter, Diana. Dan was able to learn that Rojas passed through the checkpoint west of Three Points a while ago, coming in this direction. If Lani’s somewhere here in town, that’s where I’m going to be, too. I’m guessing Dan’s on his way to Tucson as well. That’s why I want you to be there with the kids, in case . . .”

Brandon stopped talking at that point. He didn’t want to think about the worst-­case scenario, much less say it.

“I’m on my way,” Diana said. “We’ll leave right now. But if you find out where she is, Brandon, don’t do anything stupid. Promise?”

“I promise,” he said.

Brandon had his fingers crossed when he answered. He glanced at Bozo lying nearby on his heated bed. “You won’t tell on me, will you, boy?”

The dog thumped his tail. That was all the response Brandon needed.

GABE DID NOT LIKE AGENT Howell. She was blond and smelled like some kind of flower, but there was something mean about her. If she was from the FBI, why wasn’t she out looking for Lani instead of sitting here asking him stupid questions?

With his parents flanking him, Gabe had told Agent Howell everything he knew: about Tim leaving the diamond-laced pea­nut butter jar with him for safekeeping; about how Henry had burst into the house looking for it sometime that morning; about waking up in the box with Tim next to him; about how the two of them had managed to get free of their bonds, if not free from the box.