Lee checked out the other vents, and despite the unpleasant odor coming from two others, he was relieved to note that it wasn’t the scent of death. He could hear a slow drip, like a leaky faucet in one of the bathroom vents, and in another, coming from a hallway perhaps, the faint ticking of a clock. Nothing inside within a dozen feet of a vent was moving or breathing.

  Next, Lee took a quick glance inside the windows from above. One bedroom had wooden shutters and they were closed, the other was cluttered with furniture, TVs, clothing still on hangers and thrown across a bed, three saddles and some other tack, and about everything else under the sun, including several boxes of hard liquor. Two of the boxes had labels from a local bar.

  After watching the surveillance camera sweep a few times back and forth from right above it, Lee was able to look inside the windows at the back of the house without being recorded.

  A window was open several inches, so Lee listened, but heard nothing. Inside were more items that might have been stolen merchandise or property placed in orderly piles, but no firearms, drugs, or missing children. When he broke in, perhaps tonight, Lee planned on checking the closets and the room corners still out of view.

  The last room Lee examined from above and upside down was Glover’s bedroom. The man was obviously not a compulsive neat freak. Clothes were scattered around the room, the oversize four-poster bed was unmade, and empty cans of beer were atop an oak dresser. The window was open a few inches, and he could detect body odor. The telescope Lee had seen last night, a camera attached, was on the carpet by the closet.

  Taped on one of the accordion closet doors were a dozen photos of naked men and women in compromising positions. The presence of what looked like window ledges in each picture suggested Glover had used a telephoto lens or the telescope and an attached camera. Perhaps these were blackmail victims, or maybe Glover was a pervert after all. At least there were no photos of children. Lee would check out their faces when he got a closer look. Being upside down, he was having problems making out subtleties.

  Inching back across the roof, Lee took another look down the road and saw dust swirling up around an advancing vehicle. Jumping off the roof, he slipped out of Glover’s yard through the front gate, crossed the road in a hurry, then took out his keys and opened the door to the SUV as if he’d just come home. The truck traveling toward him, one he now recognized as being a different color than Glover’s, turned off the road and parked beside the home down the street perhaps a quarter mile down. Lee relaxed, took a deep breath, then brought out his cell phone.

  Diane was serving as a stock clerk at Howard’s Handy Stop, one of the few remaining mom-and-pop stores in the area. Just south of the frontage road—the remnants of Old Route 66—Howard’s was still a center of commerce for the old-time residents and a lot of the newer generations, as well.

  The business was run by Annalese Guzman, a tall, white-haired woman in her sixties. A large, faded color photo of Anna, as everyone called her, and her late husband Howard was on the wall behind the cash register, along with a hundred or so other snapshots. It reminded Diane of her mom’s living room, covered with images of every family member and neighbor who’d ever crossed their threshold.

  Anna didn’t know Diane was with the FBI, but understood she was an undercover officer with a local agency. Mrs. Guzman had been told that much, so Diane could land her position there quickly. Howard Guzman had been a retired cop, and Anna’s son was a Denver patrolman. So far, Anna hadn’t had a single non-job-related question for her, not even a “knowing” glance when she’d first come in, so Diane thought her cover was as safe as it could be. Diane had retail experience, having worked in an Old Town shop behind the counter as a teen, though it hadn’t been in an “emporium” like Howard’s, selling everything from milk to motor oil.

  Right now, Diane was restocking canned goods, boxed meals, and checking for outdated food products still on the shelves. The kid with the wannabe beard behind the cash register, Lonnie, was just out of high school, lived down the road, and seemed to know everyone who came in the door by name. He’d already tried to flirt with her, so hopefully she’d be able to get him to tell her something about the locals later.

  “Doing okay, Diane?”

  She turned and noticed Anna had come up behind her with a shopping cart containing a bushel basket of apples.

  Anna began to place the apples gingerly, a few at a time, on a pedestal display divided into three sections, one for apples, and the other two for pears and Texas grapefruit.

  “Just fine, Anna.” Diane looked up as the bell above the door jingled, announcing a customer. It was a sweaty-looking fifty-year-old man in overalls and a Purina feed cap, maybe a farmer. He was Mr. Miller, according to Lonnie, who greeted him automatically.

  “Hear about the missing Klein boy?” Anna asked, looking over at Miller, then back to Diane. “Timothy.”

  “Search parties up and down the canyon, but no sign of him. I hear the cops think he may have been taken to Albuquerque, maybe to one of those sleazy East Central motels. My old lady thinks he probably just ran off. His parents were bouncing him from house to house like a yo-yo,” Miller said. “What about you, Anna?”

  “His parents have lots of money. Should be spending it on finding the child, not for lawyers in a custody battle. I’ve been praying that Timothy has been kidnapped for ransom instead of by some pervert. At least they’d have a better chance of getting him back. The kid’s only ten years old. What’s the world coming to?” she said, looking up from her work.

  Diane stood, and Mr. Miller noticed her for the first time.

  “Getting strange,” he said, his judgment perhaps tainted by her heavy makeup, copper hair, and black, form-fitting tank top.

  “I’m Diane,” she announced, showing him her pearly whites. “This is my first day. My boyfriend and I live up on Quail Run.”

  “Know that area. Not anywhere near that lowlife Glover, I hope.”

  Diane looked over at Anna, who refused to make eye contact, then to Lonnie. He just shook his head.

  “The big dude with the buzz cut? He’s just across the street. What’s with him?”

  “Ma’am. You never heard it from me. But if I were you, I’d move before you find out. A young woman like you …” His voice trailed off, and he cleared his throat. “Lonnie, fetch me a pack of Beechnut. Make that two.”

  As Lonnie handed Mr. Miller the chewing tobacco, Diane turned, hoping to make eye contact with Anna. Finally her new employer looked up, checked around furtively, then whispered, “Glover is scum. He’s got half the community in his pocket or peeing their pants every time he comes around. I don’t know what you’re investigating, and I don’t really want to know, but if Newt Glover gets in your way, you’d be doing the world a favor by putting him in the ground. Not that others haven’t tried. Story is that some of his neighbors took a shotgun to him one night. Glover laid low for a couple of days, but he must have nine lives. When he showed up again, he didn’t have a mark on him. A few days later, it was his next-door neighbor who turned up dead. See where I’m going with this?”

  The doorbell rang again and Anna looked up, fear in her eyes. Miller was leaving. Anna sighed, and Diane noticed her hands were trembling so hard she nearly dropped an apple.

  “Get back to work, and be very careful what you say about Glover. No telling who you can trust.” Anna glanced out of the corner of her eye toward Lonnie, who was straightening the tobacco display.

  Lee had a confirmation already on the serial number he’d run from the computer box. It matched a purchase made by a man who, according to the address on his warranty, lived just three houses east down Quail Run. He had a call in now to the county, checking to see if the resident had reported any break-ins or a burglary since the date of purchase. If so, they might have something solid on Glover, though it was not nearly enough. And if what he knew already was true, Glover would find a way to intimidate the victim before it went to court anyway.

  Lee also thought of something else. If the employee at the county sheriff’s office running the search was connected to Glover, the news might get back to him. Glover would then know that somebody was snooping around his place, and that might put him and Diane in the spotlight.

  A part of Lee hoped that would happen. He wanted Glover to come after him—but not Diane. He knew she was tough and could handle herself, but still … .

  His cell phone rang. “Hello,” Lee said, glad to have his thoughts structured again.

  “I have some information for you, Officer Hawk,” Agent Karns from the Albuquerque Bureau office said. “Someone from the Bernalillo County Sheriff’s Office ran a background check on your cover vehicle. The time was oh-nine-forty-five.”

  “Were you able to get a location on the terminal used? A workstation?”

  “Sorry. It was from a mobile unit inside a cruiser. They only log on when access to the system is required, so, like a dial-up, it can’t easily be traced.”

  “Don’t they require an access code to get into the system?”

  “Our people are working on that. There’s a problem, however. If we ask BCSD for the information, we’ll have to explain what’s going on. That could end up tipping off our target’s contact.”

  Lee saw the problem. “I doubt that Glover used his personal cell phone, even though it’s digital and difficult to monitor without special equipment. He would have wanted to speak to his source directly to avoid the chance of being recorded by someone like us, who could use special hardware to listen in. Can we get a look at the security cameras at the sheriff’s offices for this morning prior to oh-nine-forty-five? If Glover is seen on their coverage, we’ll know if it’s someone working at one of their facilities—if Glover paid them a visit, that is.”

  “We can do that using a cover story that won’t link to Glover. But there are a lot of units in the field with computer access. If the request came from one of those, we’re still in the dark.”

  “Right, but at least we’ll be able to rule out a lot of county employees. We’re thinking that Glover’s contact is someone assigned to this area, so I’ll need a list. And see what details you can get concerning an unsolved local homicide. The vic’s name was Zeke Perry. He lived on Quail Run.”

  “Understood. Give me two hours.”

  “Thanks.” Lee ended the call, then considered trying to get a warrant to monitor Glover’s cell phone conversations. But it was too soon for that. Maybe later, when they could come up with something specific to be listening for. It was close to noon now, and Diane was going to call him during her lunch break. If she had time, she’d also be coming “home” for lunch so they could share information and coordinate their efforts. They’d agreed that he wouldn’t call her at work today unless it was an emergency. After that, an occasional call from a boyfriend would only enhance her cover to customers and other employees at the store—Anna Guzman not included.

  Lee was looking in the refrigerator, trying to decide what kind of sandwiches to have for lunch, when his cell phone rang.

  “Hey, it’s me, sweetie,” Diane said. “I’m going to get an hour for lunch, so how about fixing us some sandwiches and meeting me halfway? I’ll give you a call when I leave, maybe in ten minutes.”

  “Gotcha. I’ve been working on some new stuff,” Lee said cryptically, not knowing if someone was standing close enough to Diane to hear him. “I’ll bring something cold in the cooler. You want one sandwich or two?”

  “One and a half? And I’ll bring some chips. Love ya, sweetie.” She ended the call.

  “Back at you,” Lee said, closing the phone. He’d hurry with the sandwiches and get as far north as possible, giving them more time together. Their conversations were encrypted and no one could listen in, but he still didn’t like giving or getting sensitive information over a phone.

  He climbed into the big SUV within eight minutes, the sandwiches, two colas, and some apples in the small cooler on the passenger-side floorboard. There had still been no sign of Glover since he left early in the morning. Since there was only one main road leading to the interstate, it was possible they’d pass each other on the way. Lee wondered if Glover would break in or carry out some mischief if he found out their house was unoccupied. The surveillance cameras in their double-wide were well hidden and motion activated now, so they’d have that covered, and the laptop was also hidden well, behind the washing machine.

  Traffic was light heading north, and Lee got a good look at the Manzano Mountains to his left, and beyond that, farther north, the Sandia Mountains. The fault block range, weathered but still standing more than ten thousand feet in places, was called the Manzanos south of Tijeras Canyon, and the Sandias north of that location. I-40, of course, ran east and west through the dividing point, and was at least a half hour away on a route that at times twisted and turned through the woodland foothills.

  Lee recalled the drive through the canyon back in 1945 on one of his first patrols as a New Mexico state police officer. US 66 had been mapped out by then, but the road was still narrow and dangerous at times. Its fame as the Main Street of America—Route 66—was still a decade or more away at the time, and when the weather got rough, travel through the canyon had been interesting, to say the least.

  His phone rang and he answered, using his headset.

  “I’m on the way, Lee, about five miles south now. I didn’t get away exactly on time. Did you manage to get a good look at our new neighbor’s place?” Diane asked. Her signal faded a little.

  “Yeah, somewhat,” he said over the static. “We might lose contact for a while because of the terrain, but try again if the connection is broken.”

  “Right. Hey, I just passed Glover. He’s parked beside the road about a mile south of Howard’s.”

  “You sure?” Lee hoped it was just a coincidence.

  “Damned sure. I think he smiled when I checked out the vehicle. Red pickup.”

  “What’s he doing now?”

  “Don’t know, I just went around a curve. I’m reaching the twisty, climbing section where the road’s been cut and blasted out of the hillsides. Remember those bore holes in the rocks?”

  “Think he was waiting for you?” Lee asked, then the connection was lost. The terrain was interfering again.

  He waited for her to call back. She’d be negotiating the curves and hopefully had both hands on the wheel of her pickup, using her phone headset, as he was doing. The vehicle she was using was ten years old, but was supposed to be in tip-top mechanical condition, with good tires.

  When the phone rang he answered immediately. “Diane?” Lee heard her voice, then it faded a little before it became clear.

  “ … right behind me, being an asshole.”

  “He’s following you, then.”

  “Yeah, but when I touched my brakes, he faded back about five car lengths. If he’s got a stock engine in that crate, I can outrun the prick once I get out of these hills.”

  Lee’s heart was pumping. “Think he might want to force you off the road? Don’t let him try to go around you.”

  “I’m more worried he’ll cause an accident if anyone comes around the curve when he tries to pass. He’s gotten awful close already, despite the double line.”

  “If he’s got a death wish, let him go alone.”

  “I hear you.”

  “Listen, Diane, if we get disconnected, I’ll call back. Make him your priority, and don’t let him run into you.” Lee knew Diane was an expert behind the wheel during a crisis, but she didn’t have the quickness of a vampire. And even then, a civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time could really mess up your day.

  “Okay. Do we have a plan besides that?”

  “How close are you to topping the mesa out of the foothills?”

  “At the speed I’m going, maybe five minutes. You getting close?”

  “Yeah. I remember there’s a turnoff on the left onto a dirt road once you round the last curve and top out. Take it, but be watching for me in case I time my arrival too soon.” For the thousandth time, Lee was grateful that his memory was almost perfect. Once he saw something, it usually stuck in his mind forever.

  “I’ll keep track of the mile markers. Let you know when we’re close.”

  “Good. What’s Glover doing now?”

  “Getting close again. I lost speed on the hill. But he should fade as well in a few seconds.”

  Lee was multitasking now, his eyes on the road markers, going over the last trip this way mental image by image, passing slower traffic, and trying to decide what to do if they got Glover in a vise. Too bad killing him outright wasn’t an option.

  But maybe he could come awfully damned close.

  CHAPTER 5

  “Diane, you think that Glover knows you’re on the cell phone?”

  “I’m not holding anything, and this amazing hair hides the earphone and mike pretty well, so I have no idea, really.”

  “How about if you wait until he gets close again, then fake out you’re trying to make a call but can’t get through?” he suggested.

  “I see where you’re going with this,” she answered. “He may become even less cautious if he sees I’m unable to raise any help and am trying to make it home.”

  A few more minutes went by. Lee could hear the sound of the truck engine and Diane’s breathing and an occasional muttered curse.

  “Oh shit!” she finally said quite distinctly.

  “What shit?”

  “I was just acting out the no-signal thing, like you suggested. He must have seen it, because now he’s trying to get close again. Tailgating.

  “Passing mile marker twelve,” she added shortly. “Nearing the top of the hill. He’s right on my ass, I hope he doesn’t ram me when I try to turn. If someone is coming and I have to stop …”

  “Think positive, woman. I’m a mile away, and closing fast. I’ll be there in a half minute or less.”