Far Gone (25 page)

“You want to come or not?”

He towered over her, trying to rein in his temper, when what he really wanted to do was throw her down on his bed. From the look in her eyes, she knew it, too.

Her gaze slid down his body, and she lifted an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She shrugged.

He stared down at her. She had a pistol on her hip and all-terrain boots on her feet. Her cheeks were flushed, and he wondered if it was cold outside or if he’d actually managed to embarrass her with his morning hard-on.

He grabbed his T-shirt and tactical pants off the floor and watched her as he zipped up.

“When are we meeting him?”

“Soon.”

He sank down on the bed and pulled on his boots. Then he strapped on his holster and grabbed his Sig from the nightstand, along with an extra clip.

“Chop chop.” She glanced at her watch. “We’re burning daylight.”

Jon glanced at the window. The sun wasn’t even up yet. He walked past her into the bathroom, and when he came out, she was standing by the door impatiently.

He locked his house as Loco went crazy next door, hurling himself against the fence. He followed Andrea across the patch of dirt to her Cherokee, and the cold morning air slapped him awake and made him realize what a crappy plan this was. Which was the whole point of it. She’d shown up like this to catch him off guard.

He eyed her over the roof of the Jeep. He didn’t like being jerked around.

“What?” she asked innocently.

He slid inside without comment, and the aroma of fresh coffee hit him. Two tall cups were nestled in the console. “Where’d you get coffee this early?” Nothing in Maverick was open yet.

“Made it in my room.”

He looked at her, but she didn’t elaborate. She’d changed motels to avoid him, which ticked him off even more.

“We’re meeting him at Las Brisas Ranch.”

“Why?” Jon took a scalding gulp as she turned west onto the highway.

“In case he needs to come on foot.”

“What’s with the stealth? Can’t he just leave when he wants?”

“I don’t know.”

He took out his phone, and she put her hand over his. “No calls.”

He looked at her.

“We do this my way. Low-key. I don’t want a big SWAT team showing up all locked and loaded.”

Jon watched her for a moment. She was putting him in a terrible position here, and she knew it. He should call it in, but then he ran the risk of his supervisor putting everything on hold until they could get people in place. Which increased the likelihood of an armed standoff or, worse, a shootout.

“Please?”

He put his phone away and gazed out the window as they sped down the deserted highway.

“FYI, there’s an attorney meeting us at eight o’clock. He’s out of El Paso.”

Jon shot her a look.

“Did you think I was just going to hand over my brother without getting him some legal advice? I don’t want you guys throwing him to the wolves when the case unravels and you need someone to hang this on.”

“You think I’d do that?”

“
You
aren’t calling all the shots. I work for a bureaucracy, too, remember? I know how this goes.”

The sign appeared, and she swung a left onto the narrow road. The pavement was old and pitted, and she only drove a few hundred feet before she slowed to a crawl and cut the headlights. Jon didn’t say anything. It was still dark out, the only light coming from a faint purple glow on the eastern horizon.

She looked tense as she focused her attention on the narrow road, driving by feel.

“You’ve been out here before.”

She didn’t answer. The road had her complete attention. He looked ahead, at the thin strip of asphalt barely visible in the predawn gloom. He felt a slight dip, a curve. She slowed even more and glanced around.

“What are we searching for?” he asked.

“A gate. It should be on the left.”

He peered around her.

“There.” She pointed.

“It’s not locked?”

“Just some baling wire looped over the fence post. You’ll see it.”

He got out and pulled open the gate. He’d expected it to squeak, but it glided silently on its hinges. As the Jeep rolled through, Jon propped the gate open with a rock to ensure an easy exit if they needed to leave quickly. He slid back in. “Quiet gate.”

“I oiled it.”

“When?”

“First time I came out here.”

She veered left, following the road.

“Guy who owns this land is about a thousand years old,” she continued. “He lives in Fort Stockton. Used to raise cattle, but now he’s down to about a dozen head, and he leases the mineral rights to an oil and gas company.”

“They ever notice you snooping around out here?”

“I doubt it. They use the north access road, so I haven’t seen them.”

The pavement gave way to gravel. They made a slight dip. As they came over the rise, the sky was lightening, and he could make out the dark shadow of a windmill.

Andrea scanned the area. She maneuvered into the darkest niche of the landscape and eased to a stop.

“Now what?”

She checked her watch. “Now we wait.”

♦

Worry gnawed at her as the minutes crawled by. Where was he? Had he run into trouble getting away, or was he blowing her off? With every passing second, Jon was getting closer to calling this in, which took control out of
her
hands and transferred it to people with guns.

“What time did you tell him?”

“Six thirty,” she lied.

He checked his watch. “We’ll wait till seven.”

Andrea turned the key and buzzed down the window so she could listen. The front seat filled with cold air and the smell of creosote. She turned off the car again and reached for her coffee. Moment by moment, the sky was brightening, going from indigo to purple to lavender.

“When did you see him?”

She glanced at Jon in the passenger seat with his elbow resting on the open window. “Yesterday evening.”

“What does he know?”

“He said he didn’t know anything until Saturday, when he found a map of Philadelphia and put two and two together.” She felt the tension elevate at this news.

“You believe that?”

She looked away. She didn’t know what she believed. And it didn’t matter anyway.

She stared at the top of the windmill as the sun began to paint it with light. The minutes ticked by. The muscles in her shoulders tightened. Sweat pooled beneath her arms, despite the chill. She checked her phone. No texts, no e-mails.

She glanced at Jon beside her as the sunlight slanted through the windows. She’d dragged him out of bed, and he looked tired, but there was something else in his face, and she couldn’t decipher it. He was a difficult man to read. What did he think of her brother right now? Of her?

She shouldn’t care, but she did. His opinion mattered, more than she wanted it to.

Gavin couldn’t have
knowingly
helped commit these crimes. And yet the tiniest part of her doubted him now, and she was ashamed. All those years when they were each other’s only ally, when it was them against the world—did that mean nothing anymore?

Come on, Gavin.

Jon glanced at his watch. She looked out the window, scanning the horizon, and she could feel his gaze on her as he took out his phone and made a call.

“Hey, it’s me. You talk to Whitfield yet?”

She waited nervously as he exchanged a few more words and then clicked off.

“Pretty quiet last night, according to Torres,” he said.

“Someone was here all night?”

“We had a CBP truck parked up the highway, hidden from view. Pair of agents is keeping an eye on the house at night.”

“And during the day?”

“Too conspicuous. We rely on drones and drive-bys.”

Andrea peered out the window, craning her neck to see anything coming from the direction of Lost Creek.

“Last night was dead,” he said. “No vehicles in or out.”

She checked her phone again. She’d been so sure he’d come. How could he tell her the things he’d told her and then think he could duck out of this?

Jon’s phone buzzed. His face revealed nothing as he listened to the caller and gave a few brief answers.

He muted the phone and looked at her.

“First-pass photos just came in from the drones.”

She held her breath.

“Gavin’s car is gone.”

“Gone?” She blinked at him.

“Either that, or someone moved it into the barn in the middle of the night.”

“But when could he have left? I thought you said it was quiet.”

He didn’t respond, and she could see the tension in his face. This was partly her fault. If she’d given him the heads-up sooner, he could have doubled up on surveillance. He probably would have spent the night out here himself.

“What about the brown Dodge?” she asked.

“What about it?”

“Is it there?”

He relayed the question. A few more clipped words, and he hung up. “Dodge is at the house,” he told her.

Andrea gripped her phone in her hand as she looked out the window at the ever-brightening landscape.

“What does Vicky Leeland’s car have to do with this?”

“I think they might be together.”

She glanced away, but she could feel his anger growing beside her, filling the space between them. “How long have you known about this?”

“Less than a day,” she said.

“God damn it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you.”

She drew back, stung. “Believe what you want. It’s the truth.”

He stared at her hard, as if by sheer force of will he could make her reveal something. It was a look that probably worked on a lot of people, but it wouldn’t work on her.

“He’s obviously not coming.” His stared grimly out the window. “He either left last night or slipped out this morning.”

Backtracking to the highway was faster with the benefit of daylight, and soon they were speeding toward Maverick. Jon called Torres and gave him a rundown of the situation before getting a more detailed report on the overnight surveillance from Whitfield.

Andrea focused on the road, trying to ignore the sour ball of dread filling her stomach as she listened to the conversation. She’d given Gavin a chance, and he’d blown it.

She’d been so naive. So confident she could do something,
fix
something. But she couldn’t save Gavin from himself any more than she’d been able save Dillon in that restaurant kitchen. She was powerless.

And it was out of her hands now. Jon’s entire team was pulled into the search for Gavin, and they knew he had information. Any illusion of her brother being uninvolved had vanished, and now a team of armed federal agents was looking for him.

Andrea made a loop through town, slowing as she passed the various motels, in case he and Vicky had decided to get a room. Yes, it would be a stupid move considering the size of this town and the chances of someone spotting them together. But Gavin’s actions of late hadn’t demonstrated much prudence.

She did a second pass down Main Street as Jon wrapped up another call with Torres.

“They think he left around five this morning,” Jon said.

“How do they know?”

“They don’t. It’s just a hunch. Whitfield spotted a car on the highway headed toward Maverick, but it didn’t come from Lost Creek.”

“Maybe he cut through the neighbor’s ranch to the west, then doubled back.”

She studied Jon’s profile—the firm line of his mouth, the determined set of his chin as he combed the horizon, searching for her brother. He looked at her. “Where do you think he’d go?”

“I don’t know.”

“He’s your brother, Andrea. Think.”

“Maybe he went to Fort Stockton.”

“We’ve got a BOLO out for him. Where else? Where would he go around here?”

She tamped down her anxiety and thought about Gavin’s routines—what little she knew about them anymore. “My guess is food. He’d go to a Dairy Queen or maybe a truck stop looking for breakfast. Something big and cheap.”

She pulled a U-turn and headed back toward the highway, where most of the restaurants were. She looped through the Dairy Queen parking lot, slowing to peer into the windows at the customers. She parked at a diner and got out to check the premises, including the restrooms, while Jon talked to the servers. No sign of him.

Andrea’s chest tightened as they slid back inside the car. She shifted in her seat to face him. With his ICE T-shirt and his leg holster and the intent look in his eyes, he seemed intimidating. He
was
intimidating, and she hated what she had to do.

“I need to tell you something.”

His gaze narrowed. He propped his forearm on the door and waited.

There was no going back. She was betraying her family. Her
brother
. Someone she was supposed to look out for, always.

But those victims in Philadelphia had families, too. So did Carmen Pena.

“You were right about Lost Creek,” she told him. “They do have communications there. They’re using satellite Internet hookups.” She swallowed. “Gavin set it up for them. Hardin hired him for technical support.”

Jon stared at her, and shame warmed her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I found out yesterday. He told me he wasn’t involved in anything else, and I believed him, but—” She looked out the window at the dusty highway.

“If he wasn’t involved, why would he run?” Jon finished for her.

“You need to set up a satellite surveillance,” she said. “You need to intercept whatever they’re doing, see if you can pick up something you can use to get Hardin in custody.”

“I know.”

“How did—”

“It’s already under way,” he said. “Our surveillance team caught evidence of a satellite signal early Sunday morning. They’re working on an intercept now.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something like pity.

“Thanks for telling me,” he said.

Thanks for giving us your brother. Thanks for handing him over so we can put him away for the rest of his life.

Jon took another call, and it sounded like Torres. She watched closely as his expression changed. “When?”