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  Widow said, “Steep. I’ll give you four.”

  The guy was silent, and then he looked at his boss and back to Widow. He said, “Make it forty-five hundred.”

  Widow thought for a moment and said, “Done.”

  They shook hands and returned to the shop. The mechanic had convinced his boss to sell the Jeep as if it were his own to Widow. They followed this procedure so that they could swipe Widow’s debit card.

  After swiping Widow’s card, they made Widow watch as the boss counted $4,500 out of a safe. He wasn’t sure why they made him wait. Finally, the mechanic reached into his pocket and pulled out a key ring with over a dozen different keys on it. He slipped out the Jeep key and handed it to Widow.

  He said, “It’s got a full tank. Take good care of her. She’s been with me for years.”

  Widow nodded and checked the clock one last time as he walked out the door. He figured he could get Jemma back by nightfall. If he was lucky.

  CHAPTER 14

  DRIVING DOWN 35, Widow drove the Wrangler in fifth gear and decided he had to recalculate the time it would take him to get to Romanth because it turned out that the older Jeep wasn’t built for speed. It topped out at fifty-five miles per hour as long as he stayed flat and not going up hills. It was not a fast-moving vehicle.

  He drove for over an hour and guessed he would be in Romanth within two and a half hours. He enjoyed driving with the top gone. It was nice, even though the hot sun beat down on him. He figured the best-case scenario was being at risk of getting a farmer’s tan, and the worst-case scenario was getting burned.

  The Wrangler drove well like the mechanic had said. The tires were balanced and straight. He felt every rock on the road underneath, but it was in a good way. He really was impressed with his new Jeep. He was even considering keeping it. He liked the life he had chosen of owning nothing and wandering the landscape, free of possessions, but there was something tantalizing about riding in a Jeep. He imagined it was the same for guys who rode hogs across the country. He could understand the motorcycle appeal, the life of a rebel.

  Just then the cell phone he had taken from the woman vibrated and buzzed and made a dinging sound he had heard from other people’s phones before. It was the latest iPhone sound. It was weak and said, Hello. You have a text. Not a sound he would choose for a phone—if he owned a phone. It was too soft.

  He reached down and picked the iPhone off of the passenger seat and checked it. There was a text from one of the numbers programmed into the phone.

  It read, “Where r u? Y haven’t you checked in?”

  Widow thought about responding, but what for? He could’ve called both numbers and talked to the bad guys on the other line, but what was the good in that? He had the advantage.

  The two people who were following him were trying to find out where he was going. That’s why they were following him. They didn’t know where Hood was, and they didn’t know where he was headed, and he wanted to keep it that way. Once he had Jemma safe and sound, then he could ask Hood about what was going on. Then he could deal with Hood’s trouble.

  JOHN GLOCK called the Principal and said, “I can’t get hold of them.”

  Silence fell over the line, and a nervous voice came on and said, “Have you called?”

  “No.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I texted. We don’t call on the phone. They were supposed to check in, and they didn’t. So I texted.”

  The Principal sounded nervous. He asked, “And?”

  “And nothing. They didn’t respond.”

  Silence fell over the line, and the Principal came on and said, “You know what’s at stake here?”

  “I know.”

  “I’ve spent the last fifteen months preparing for this. We’ve invested millions.”

  Glock said, “I know.”

  “We can’t have Hood out there. We need to know what he told the Feds.”

  Glock said, “If he told them anything.”

  “You don’t think he did?”

  “I think if he had spoken to them, they’d have come down on us already.”

  “So why the hell is he out?”

  “I think he told them something, but I don’t think he gave them proof.”

  The Principal said, “So they let him out as a sign of good faith?”

  Glock said, “Exactly. Maybe to go and say goodbye to his family. Or maybe they let him out, and he ditched them. Whatever happened, I guarantee they aren’t on to us. We’d have seen them already.”

  The Principal said, “So what do we do?”

  Glock asked, “Where are you?”

  “I’m in Austin.”

  “Campaigning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is our candidate there?”

  “No. He left. He’s got a debate coming up.”

  Glock asked, “How did it go for him?”

  “The crowd loved him.”

  “What about the negotiation?”

  The Principal said, “Don’t worry about that. It’s not time yet.”

  “You know we have to get those contracts!”

  “Your job is cleanup. Don’t tell me how to do mine. Now find Hood and put a bullet in him!”

  “What about the family? You still want them dead?”

  The line was silent for a long moment again, and Glock could hear the Principal breathing heavy on the other end of the line.

  Glock had no intention of letting anyone in the Hood family live. The dying wife. The girl. They were all going to die. That was how he operated. But he wanted to make sure the Principal had the stomach for it.

  The Principal said, “Do it.”

  Glock smiled.

  “Make sure to ask him what they know first.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have a good conversation with him before I put him down.”

  The Principal asked, “Where’s the last place you heard from the others?”

  “South Texas. Don’t worry—I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  “Call them. I don’t care about protocol.”

  Glock said, “I’m going to when we hang up.”

  The Principal said, “Good.”

  “This may take until nighttime. Where you gonna be?”

  “I’ll be home after five.”

  “Good. I’ll call you when it’s done,” Glock said and hung up the phone. He looked at his watch and then at his phone. He hit call to a number for his contact at the Jericho Militia.

  The phone rang, and then he heard a click and a voice came on.

  Glock said, “Danny, it’s me.”

  The voice on the other line said, “What’s up?”

  “I need you to track a phone.”

  There was a short moment of silence on the other line, and then the guy named Danny said, “What’s the number?”

  Glock relayed the number to him and said, “It’s one of our burners. We lost an asset.”

  Danny said, “No explanation required. But I’ll need them to answer the phone so I can get a ping on it.”

  “Understood. How long do I need to talk with them?”

  “There’s no minimum. Just get them to turn it on. Once it’s on, then I can track it.”

  “I’m going to call them now,” Glock said and then clicked off the phone. He searched his phone for the woman’s name. He found it and hit the call button. He waited for it to ring.

  WIDOW DROVE the Wrangler and had no problems. The engine ran well. Wind blew in hard as he barreled down the highway. It was hard to hear the woman’s phone when it rang, but he had it in the cup holder and saw it light up.

  Widow pulled over to the side of the road, slow. The tires spit gravel up in the air, and the dust settled around him. He put the gear into neutral and stomped the emergency brake down. It clicked.

  He picked up the phone and hit the button to answer. He put the receiver up to his ear and said nothing, just listened.

  A horrible voice that sounded like a guy trying to
swallow a whole pigeon said, “Hello. Where are you?”

  Widow stayed quiet.

  The voice said, “Jane? Answer! Where are you?”

  “Wrong person. Jane won’t be coming to the phone. Ever again.”

  The voice on the other end said, “Who the hell is this?”

  “I’m the guy who killed your friends.”

  “They’re dead?”

  “As doornails.”

  “Who are you?”

  “I’m nobody.”

  “You’re the stranger. The guy who talked to the old bird before she croaked.”

  “And you’re the asshole who hired two amateurs to follow a poor defenseless old lady.”

  Glock said, “They weren’t amateurs. They were experienced professionals.”

  Widow said, “Whatever. They’re dead now.”

  “You must be good to have killed them both.”

  “I didn’t kill them both. Your friend Jane killed the other guy.”

  “I’m sure you gave her no choice.”

  Widow said, “What are you? The boss?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What the hell’s wrong with your voice? Did you bite your tongue off?”

  There was a pause on the line, and then Glock said, “I was stabbed. In prison.”

  Widow waited a long second and then said, “Is that supposed to scare me?”

  Glock said nothing back.

  Widow asked, “Somebody tried to kill you?”

  “And they failed.”

  “Too bad. You better hope nothing happens to Hood and that little girl. Or I’ll finish the job.”

  Widow hung up the phone. No reason to continue. Nothing left to say. He tossed the iPhone back onto the seat next to him and looked back at the oncoming cars. He waited for an opening and threw the gear into first and released the emergency brake. He hit the gas, the Wrangler bounced, the tires kicked up dirt, and he was back on the road.

  GLOCK CALLED Danny again and said, “Tell me you located the phone.”

  “Of course. No problem. He’s headed south on 35 toward Laredo. Is he coming to us?”

  “No. This isn’t one of our guys. This is a meddler. A guy sticking his nose where it don’t belong.”

  “I see. You want me to get the boys together? We can cut him off.”

  “No. I’ll handle it personally. Get everyone in. Stay at the compound.”

  Danny asked, “What’s this about?”

  “We have a situation. A guy we worked with once before got himself arrested. He got ten years.”

  “Who is it?”

  “James Hood.”

  No recognition came from Danny.

  Glock said, “Doesn’t matter. It was before your boys came onboard. This guy got ten years. We let him live because he has family. People we can hurt.”

  “I understand.”

  “He got out yesterday. Didn’t tell us. We want to know why.”

  “You think he talked to the cops?”

  “Probably.”

  “Now you need him silenced?”

  Glock said, “Right.”

  “So is that the guy we’re tracking?”

  “No. This guy is something different. A passerby.”

  “You mean a Good Samaritan?”

  “Right.”

  Danny asked, “Where do you think he’s going? Think he wants to cross the border?”

  “No. This guy is after Hood. He thinks he can stop us from getting to him first.”

  “So he knows where this Hood guy is?”

  Glock said, “Yeah. Keep an eye on his phone. Tell me where he stops.”

  “No problem.”

  “And Danny?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Better gear up. We might need your guys tonight. This guy’s already killed two of my guys.”

  Danny said, “Got it.”

  Glock hung up. He was already in his Tahoe and headed south. He was only a few hours behind this stranger.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE SUN SET over huge rock formations and rock shelves. Fiery reds swarmed across the sky. The last ten miles were rough on the long, winding dirt track that led to the town of Romanth. Red clay and empty river beds filled the landscape. The whole scene was majestic.

  Widow drove on until the road started to turn into blacktop. The tires bounced up onto the road, and the ride smoothed out. Widow turned a sharp curve and came to a sign that said Barclay, but the word was crossed out. Written over it was the word Romanth.

  After the sign, Widow saw the town cemetery. Which was weird, he thought.

  His first introduction to the town was the graveyard. It was small and had less than fifty plots. There was a black wrought iron fence posted around it, and the tombstones looked over a hundred years old. They were cracked and overgrown with weeds and some remaining grass. Someone must’ve started out watering here, but stopped for some reason. Outside of the fence was nothing but red clay and dirt.

  Widow continued along the road and entered the town, which resembled something out of a Clint Eastwood movie. It was as if Texas in the 1880s had been perfectly preserved, with the exception of the electrical poles and modern-day sidewalks and cars and everything else found in the twenty-first century.

  There was a tall water tower. A huge brick church appeared out of place because it looked like it could hold hundreds of people, but Widow would’ve been surprised if there were more than a thousand people living here.

  Other than the ancient architecture, the town was booming with life and improvements. Widow saw families walking to dinner and teenagers hanging out in front of storefronts. He saw two school buses that were parked in the local school’s lot. It was a good size campus, but he imagined it was K through twelve and not separated like most of America’s schools.

  There was no hospital in sight, but there was a two-story medical center with a sign that listed the numerous services they provided. It was not a twenty-four hour establishment.

  He followed the town’s main drag and noticed immediately that everyone stopped and stared at him.

  Look at the stranger.

  Widow drove on. He turned off the main street and onto another one. He followed it to a dead end. The street must’ve been where the adults headed after hours because it had two bars, both country bars—the kind with live music and cold beer, his kind of bar.

  He circled around and returned to the main street. He looked over the locals, who were staring at him. He saw young men in cowboy hats and blue jeans and cowboy boots. He saw slender young women in summer dresses. He saw the older men who carried slightly more stomach than their younger counterparts. He saw the older women with slightly wider hips, but who still held their own in the attractiveness department.

  Then he noticed something that wasn’t really strange, but still, he couldn’t help but make a mental note of it. Almost everyone looked Mexican. There were a few white people peppered here and there, but most of the town seemed to be made up of Hispanic people. Which he guessed wasn’t that unusual. It was South Texas, and he was pretty close to the border. In fact, the border was less than five miles away.

  This was Romanth, a small Texas town with a small population. Now he needed to find Hood and Jemma. He looked at the iPhone and clicked on the screen. It was about dinner time. He thought to himself, where would Hood take Jemma to dinner? Then he turned another corner and found a few restaurants and the town’s only hotel, so far.

  He figured that would be as good a place as any to start. Unless Hood had a friend here, then he and Jemma would be staying in a hotel.

  Widow pulled into the parking lot of a little hotel with no name and parked. He left the Jeep near the road and walked to the office. Inside, he saw two people. One was an older lady, and the other was a young guy, about Widow’s height and build. He looked tough. He had buzz-cut hair with a long razor mark down the right side of his head that could’ve been a scar, but Widow wasn’t sure. Even though he looked tough, he gave Wid
ow a good smile and said, “Welcome.”

  The old lady repeated, “Welcome. Do you need a room, sir?”

  Widow said, “I do.”

  “No problem.”

  The room was half office and half where they lived. And suddenly, Widow was reminded of that old Hitchcock movie, Psycho.

  A momma loves her boy.

  “You’re lucky today because we have a first-floor room available.”

  Widow nodded and said, “Perfect.”

  They went through all the necessary procedures and asked for his identification and a credit card to use for incidentals. Widow used his debit card. They had him sign two forms, and they made a copy of his passport. After everything had transpired, they told him his room number and gave him a plastic key card. The mother tried to explain how to use it, but Widow reassured her he had used them before.

  He pulled out the cell phone that belonged to the dead woman, and he opened it and found a photo of Hood. He said, “By any chance have you seen this guy?”

  They old lady said, “Sorry, sir, but we can’t give information about other guests who may or may not be here.”

  Which gave Widow the impression that the answer was yes.

  He nodded. He thought about trying to bribe them but didn’t feel it would’ve gotten him anywhere. Bribing someone for information normally only works when the person is alone, like a lonely clerk at midnight—underpaid and overworked. In his experience, those were the guys who were the easiest to buy information from. But not a mother trying to raise her son and run a business. It wasn’t very likely she would take Widow’s money right in front of her son.

  Widow left and turned the corner and headed to his room, but outside he heard a voice call to him.

  “Sir? Sir?”

  He turned and saw the son following behind him. He waited for the son to catch up.

  The guy said, “This guy you’re looking for? What’s it worth to you?”

  Ah, the perfect question.

  Widow smiled and said, “I can pay money for it.”

  The guy said, “A hundred bucks. I can tell you.”

  Widow thought for a moment and then reached into his pocket and pulled out the rest of the dead bad guy’s cash money. He glanced over the amount. It was less than a hundred bucks.

  He said, “I’ll give you sixty-five.”