Lee stood, watching the sweep of the camera and counting down, when the light in the bedroom went out. He waited a beat, remaining behind cover. If Glover was going to bed, he reasoned, wouldn’t he turn off the kitchen light first?

  Then the kitchen light went out. Lee remained in place, thinking that maybe Glover had just forgotten the light in the kitchen. But it was too dangerous to be impulsive around someone who’d tried to kill him earlier in the day, so he held his position. A few more minutes, then he’d go.

  If Lee hadn’t been a vampire, he would never have seen the back door opening. But evening was like a cloudy afternoon to a nightwalker, and Lee dropped behind cover as Glover stepped outside onto his small back porch, gym bag in one hand, flashlight in the other.

  Glover locked the door, then walked straight toward the gate—and Lee, who was just beyond.

  CHAPTER 14

  The man wasn’t using his flashlight, concerned, perhaps, that the beam could be seen by someone watching from a distance. “Shit!” he said, stubbing his foot on a stone and stumbling slightly.

  Reaching the gate, Glover turned on the light for a moment to find the padlock, opened it with a brass key, then went through, locking the device behind him. The man was standing so close Lee could smell his BO, and, if Glover decided to look around, he’d probably spot him. But Glover didn’t hesitate. He walked right down the fence line toward the east, his eyes on the street he was paralleling.

  Once Glover was a hundred feet away, Lee brought out his cell phone and punched the number that would dial Diane. “Glover’s leaving on foot,” Lee whispered. “Heading east. Can you get to the SUV and stand by if I need a ride?”

  “Gotcha. What if he’s just going for a walk or a window peep with a camera at the Weiner house? Remember those photos in his bedroom?”

  “Or he’s got other plans after being rejected earlier, especially if the husband is gone. Glover’s carrying a small gym bag and a flashlight.” Lee looked down the fence line. Glover was fifty yards away, striding quickly. “Gotta go.” Lee placed the listening device he’d brought by Glover’s gate, making sure he wasn’t seen by the camera, then took off.

  If Glover tried to harm the woman, he’d have to find a way of protecting her without risking their investigation, or the safety of Timothy Klein, assuming Glover was involved in that. At least in the dark, Lee might have a chance to avoid identifying himself to the man.

  Moving into the forest just enough to avoid being seen if Glover decided to look back to the west, Lee moved in the man’s direction. All he had to do was keep him in sight and not make any noise.

  Just as Lee had feared, Glover stopped at the back gate of the fourth house down—the Weiner house. It was an older-looking double-wide with a clutter of junk in the backyard, including two derelict vehicles and a clothesline with one of the poles leaning halfway to the ground. A burned-out fifty-five-gallon drum and scorched ground around it showed how the Weiners dealt with trash and weeds.

  Lee stopped, fifty yards away, watching. Glover stood there only about ten seconds before the back porch light came on and a skinny, shirtless man in jeans and engineer boots came outside.

  “Turn off the fucking light, dipshit,” Glover said with a growl.

  The man slipped back inside and turned off the light before coming back out again. He walked across the yard. “Sorry, Mr. Glover.”

  “So, where’s the Harley, Weenie?”

  “Out front. You’re not going to be long, are you? I need it for work tomorrow. Rhonda has the car.”

  “You tell your old lady that I can either ride her or the Harley. What’s it going to be?”

  Lee saw the man’s fists clinch, but was too far away to read his expression. “Stay away from my wife, Glover. Here’s the key to the bike.” The man reached into his pocket.

  “Bring it here, Weenie.” Glover aimed the flashlight in the man’s eyes.

  Weiner took a look behind him. Mrs. Weiner was standing just inside the doorway, holding what looked like a shotgun. The darkness kept Glover from seeing her there. The Weiners were afraid of their neighbor, obviously, but they weren’t stupid.

  Mr. Weiner walked over to the fence and opened the gate, handing the key reluctantly to Glover. “Here. Just leave it in the driveway when you get back.”

  Glover brushed past Weiner and walked toward the back porch. Mrs. Weiner took a step back, the barrel of the shotgun pointing in his direction.

  Glover must have finally spotted her. “Maybe next time,” he teased, then pivoted ninety degrees and proceeded to his left, disappearing around the side of the building.

  Lee called Diane as he watched Weiner go back inside. “Meet me beside the mailboxes in a couple of minutes. I’ll have to see what direction Glover goes when he reaches the highway. He’s gotten himself a loaner Harley from the Weiners.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’ll probably hear the Harley once you get outside. Just make sure he doesn’t spot you. ’Bye.” Lee ended the call, then started running east through the edge of the tree line. Once Glover got on the bike, he’d probably reach the road within a half minute. Lee had to be there to meet Diane. Losing Glover now could be a disaster if he was going to meet one of his criminal sidekicks. Or a kidnapper of a young boy?

  Picking up speed, Lee sprinted out of the trees and ran along the clear-cut zone between the forest and the east-west fence line. Glover would only see him by luck in the dark, and he had to be in position to catch Diane.

  Though he knew from the sound alone, Lee also saw Glover roaring off to the north when he reached the highway. Turning back, he stepped out into the road and waved just as Diane turned on her headlights. The SUV slid to a stop about ten feet away.

  Lee jumped into the passenger side. “North. Go north.” He buckled his seat belt clumsily in the moving vehicle, not used to being a passenger and hooking up on the left side.

  “What’s he up to, Lee? It’s nearly ten P.M.” Diane said.

  Lee looked over at her, noting that she was wearing a ballcap like him now, and dressed in a nonslutty pullover sweater and relaxed-fit jeans.

  He told her what he’d seen and heard.

  “Glover’s got the whole neighborhood under his thumb. Where I grew up, in Albuquerque’s North Valley, if anyone had said something like that to a husband, he’d get shot,” Diane said.

  “I’m sure Martin Weiner had that in the back of his mind. At least he had the good sense to have his wife cover him like that. But Glover probably had his own pistol in his belt or the gym bag. The Weiners could have gotten themselves killed. They’re not professionals when it comes to violence, like Glover,” Lee said.

  “One thing is for sure. The more we hear and learn about the man, it’s a wonder he’s still alive,” Diane added, her eyes on the road. “See the Harley anywhere ahead?”

  Lee didn’t need the headlights, but the road was lined with trees, hills, and curves, so the man on the cycle could be a half mile away and they’d never know except from the sound of the noisy bike. “Roll down your window. If he takes a side road, maybe we’ll hear it before we see him.”

  “Yeah. Harleys have that distinctive rumble.”

  Finally they reached a straight stretch of highway alongside an alfalfa field, and Lee spotted Glover about a quarter mile farther north, going the speed limit. “There he is.”

  “Yeah, I see the taillight—barely.”

  They continued on a little farther, then went into another series of turns as the road passed through a section with several east-west canyons. “I’ve lost sight again,” Lee said. “Better slow down and listen. There are several secondary roads around here, if I recall.”

  “With a memory like yours, it’s more than just recalling, Lee. How many?”

  “Five, by the time we get out of these canyons. Two on the west, three on the east. The next one coming up is to the west.”

  “Show-off.”

  Lee smiled, though, in the dark, nobody could see except another vampire.

  Going downhill, Diane let off on the gas. Lee could hear a rumble to their left. “I think he took the west side road. Slow down a little more.”

  They came around the corner and Lee looked to his right. No Harley was ahead on the highway.

  “Dust. A little dust at the turnoff. You’re right,” Diane announced. She pulled off onto the narrow road and turned off the headlights. Wide at the highway, just ahead the dirt path turned into two ruts winding up the north side of a narrow canyon. A misspelled, hand-lettered sign on the fence said PRIVITE DRIVE, but there was no gate, just a battered mailbox with self-stick numbers.

  “I can hear the bike. We follow?” she asked.

  “Yeah, but let’s switch places. I won’t need the headlights.”

  Diane opened the door. “I’m way ahead of you.”

  By the time she was back inside, Lee was at the wheel. He put the SUV into gear, then drove down the road slowly, listening to the fading roar of the motorcycle, which was still unseen.

  Picking up the pace, Lee tried to stay close, but five minutes later there was an intersection. The road continued on toward a home, clearly visible to him ahead. There was a closed gate, and no Harley. Glover would have still been visible if he’d gone that way.

  “Hear anything to the left or right?” she asked.

  He turned off the engine. After a moment, both of them heard a faint rumble to the right.

  “Gotcha.” Lee turned on the engine, turned right, then headed on up the road, which was better here.

  “This owner must have more money, or connections with the county. Notice the gravel? This road was graded recently,” she commented. “And wet down to settle the dust.”

  “Probably another route back to the highway, too. Only problem is, this road is noisier, and forget about spotting tracks.” Lee speeded up, but couldn’t see the Harley anywhere ahead.

  They came to another intersection. Lee turned off the engine and they listened. After a while he shook his head in disgust. “I think we lost him.”

  “Okay. But I don’t think he knew we were following. So he has to be around here somewhere,” she pointed out. “Let’s drive around and see if we can find the Harley parked beside a house.”

  Lee nodded, then started up the engine. Leaving the lights on, they continued toward the west. The road circled around a big loop through the forest, with signs indicating future home sites and the name of the developer, FAC Hideaway Homes. But they failed to locate the Harley, and there were no structures where it could have been hidden. Eventually they returned to the same intersection where the road divided.

  “Let’s go back to the east. I think that area is already being developed,” Diane said.

  They drove down the graveled road, and within a few minutes reached an area similar to the last one, except this graveled street contained several completed homes, others under various stages of construction, and a model home with signs. From the porch and accent lights, the paved driveways, and the vehicles parked beside the homes, it was clear people were already living there. They found a street sign, Mockingbird Lane, which led east, probably to the highway.

  “There’s a motorcycle in that driveway,” Diane pointed out as they passed a ranch-style home with two stories and dormer windows.

  “Wrong color,” Lee said. “This one is green. The one Glover took was blue.”

  “Too subtle for me to tell. You sure?”

  Lee nodded. “I’m sure. Let’s retrace our route and take one of the other roads.”

  An hour later, after reaching dead ends or single dwellings with no motorcycles, they finally reached the main highway again. At the stop sign, Lee spotted an oncoming headlight. “Crap. You know who that is?”

  The motorcycle passed by, heading south, and Diane cursed, as well. “Glover. Where the hell has he been?”

  “Well, we know it was somewhere north. Maybe in the new development. We missed him, somehow.” He pulled onto the highway, following the motorcycle from a safe distance.

  “He’s probably heading home now. Let’s make sure, but don’t drive up to our place right after him. He’ll get suspicious.”

  “We’ll give him fifteen minutes. Meanwhile, I’ve got a Wal-Mart grocery bag under the seat. We’ll fake a trip into east Albuquerque.”

  When Glover turned down their street fifteen minutes later, they continued on for a short distance, then stopped by the highway. “We’ll give him enough time to drop off the Harley and walk home. Twenty minutes, okay?” Lee asked.

  Later, they drove up the lane to their house, noting the motorcycle parked in the Weiner driveway. The lights at Glover’s were out, and they returned to their own door without incident.

  “I set the surveillance system, Lee, but I doubt he had time to come over here,” Diane said as they entered the living room. Lee had gone in first, not needing to turn on the lights first before checking for an intruder.

  “Okay, you check the recorder, I’ll make sure he hasn’t planted a bomb or listening device,” Lee said.

  “I wish I could say you’re just kidding, but with this guy, anything is possible.”

  “Ain’t that the truth?”

  Diane checked the system and it had recorded the entire time. Nobody had entered the building, which ruled out the possibility of a recently planted bomb or bug.

  They returned to the dining room table, moving their seating positions so they couldn’t present a visual target from Glover’s place, then discussed the evening’s events.

  Diane brought up a database that had recent maps and photos of the East Mountain area between their location and I-40, and the development area was there, barely. “Only three houses were completed at this time, a year ago, though several more were under construction,” she pointed out, zooming into the display for a closer look.

  “There’s another structure, farther back, on a small road that ties into the development,” Lee said. “Zoom back out again.”

  Diane nodded. “We still don’t know where Glover went, and when you add all the houses there now, including that model home, we’re talking about twenty or more structures. We’ll have to check them all out, and even then, we might not learn anything helpful. What if Glover went to visit some woman, or just a business contact?”

  “Why sneak away from us at night to do it, then? Maybe he’s got Timothy Klein locked up in some basement and needed to check on him.”

  “I’d thought of that, which means we’ll need the names and occupations of everyone in that area,” Diane responded. “That could lead us to people who might be under Glover’s influence, connections that have kept him out of trouble while he’s been doing his dirty work around here. Or giving him a place to hide the boy.”

  “Yeah. But let’s get help. How about we ask Logan to assign someone from the Bureau to get names and backgrounds, and a state policeman or two to do a house-to-house for signs of the missing child,” Lee said. “If they pick up any vibes, they can pass the information along to us.”

  “I’ll talk to Logan, you set it up with your people,” Diane said, reaching for her cell phone.

  “One more thing, Diane. Let’s get all we can on the company doing the developing, FAC Hideaway Homes. Even if this has nothing to do with the Klein boy, Glover might be sticking his finger into some very large pies.”

  Hours later, Lee was still working on the laptop. Diane had gone to bed to catch some sleep. Taking a sip of freshly brewed piñon-blend coffee, Lee heard the familiar beep notifying him that he’d just received an e-mail.

  The sender was a tech he knew at the state police office in Santa Fe. Lee read the message, committed it to memory, then forwarded the text to the Internet Web site that only he and Diane could access before deleting it from the laptop.

  The message had contained information on the developer, FAC Hideaway Homes, and the identities of the four partners hiked Lee’s interest. He checked various websites, looking for more information on the individuals, and was quickly able to connect one of the partners to Glover. When Diane woke up, he’d give her an update.

  She was awake at 6:30 and still in the shower when Lee noticed Glover coming out his front door. Lee walked to the bathroom and knocked.

  “Come on in,” she called out.

  “Glover’s gone outside. I may have to follow him. If I do, I’ll call.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  Lee crossed the bedroom and entered the living room/ dining room again. Glover was getting into the Jeep, his bug-scanning wand still in his hand. The guy was careful, Lee had to admit.

  Putting on his jacket and cap, Lee watched as Glover started up the Jeep and backed out of the driveway. Patting his pockets to confirm the presence of his cell phone, pistol, and sunblock, Lee walked to the door.

  He had to hurry, driving down the lane, to make sure he knew which direction Glover would be going, and was surprised to see the man heading south this time. The sun was nearly up and traffic was heavier than usual, with so many people heading to work. It made it easier to follow Glover, hiding among the other vehicles.

  Wondering if the trip had anything to do with Sully, who lived in this direction, Lee attached his headpiece and called Andrea Moore. He didn’t know whether she was actually the officer currently watching Sully, but if not she’d know who’d taken her place. He’d left the coverage arrangements to her and the others, not wanting to micromanage as long as they did the job.

  The officer in place turned out to be Felix Rodriguez. Lee dialed his number after thanking Officer Moore. “Felix. This is Lee, and I’m heading south on Three thirty-seven, following our main subject. He’s driving a green Jeep. Anything going on at your location?”