AT MIDAFTERNOON OF our second day in Flagstaff, Ava and I go out to a late lunch to discuss what more we need to do in Arizona. Our work feels pretty much done here, and so our discussion focuses on whether we should leave for Texas tomorrow morning or get a few hours of driving in today.
We’re at a pizza place called Oregano’s, and I text Carlos with a photo of the thick deep-dish pie we’re about to eat.
Jealous? I ask.
A minute later, I get a text back. It says, Are you? and includes a photo of my guitar.
I laugh. I can’t help myself.
I left my guitar in my truck when I loaned it to Carlos. I guess I was wrong when I said I never leave home without it.
I’m short on gas money, Carlos texts. I’m going to hit up a pawnshop before I drive back. You think I can get $20 for this?
Ha ha, I text back. Very funny.
As we devour the pizza, I take a moment to reflect on the relationships I’ve formed with Carlos and Ava. A lot of times Rangers work alone, so it’s been nice to have not one but two great partners on this case.
Carlos and I work well together. We didn’t say a word during the whole gunfight, but we worked successfully and in tandem the entire time.
It’s been a little harder to get to know Ava, as a police officer and a person. But beneath her steely exterior, I’ve seen her conduct interviews, review case files, and carry herself with the professionalism and poise of a sensitive woman who genuinely wants to help people. I’m glad my positive first impression when I met her at the shooting competition proved accurate—and that I’ve shaken her questionable first impression of me, so she and I could develop this working relationship.
And friendship.
The relationships with Carlos and Ava have made this assignment with the FBI’s task force a gratifying experience. Which wouldn’t have been the case otherwise, especially considering the strained relationship I now have with Ryan, who was my rival at the shooting competition but, as far as I’m concerned, never needed to be my rival on the job.
As I finish off my last piece of pizza, my phone buzzes, and I see that—speak of the devil—it’s a call from Ryan.
“Hey, Yates,” he says in the kind of friendly tone he used at the competition. “Where are you right now?”
“Flagstaff,” I say. For a moment, I’m expecting him to scold me for being here, and I open my mouth to explain what we’re doing and what we’ve discovered.
But he isn’t calling to fight.
“How fast can you get to Phoenix?” he says.
“About two hours, I think.”
“Excellent,” he says. “I need a favor.”
He explains that the police have found a Honda Civic abandoned in Phoenix that matches the description of the vehicle they believe Llewellyn Carpenter used after abandoning his van in the garage. Security footage from the garage showed Carpenter throw Marta Rivera in the trunk and take off, only about thirty seconds before Carlos and I got there.
“I’d send someone else from the task force,” he says, “but it’s a six-hour drive from El Paso. I could put someone on a plane, or go myself, but that’s a lot of expense if it’s the wrong vehicle. Since you’re in the neighborhood, could you help me out?”
“Glad to,” I say, then, knowing there’s bad blood between them, I add, “Ava Cruz from the Tigua Tribal Police is with me.”
Across from me, Ava takes a sip from her lemonade while watching me closely, trying to figure out what we’re talking about.
“No problem,” he says, surprising me. “Take her with you. I just need you to make an initial assessment. If it looks like our guy’s vehicle, I’ll probably come up myself.”
I ask him if there’s any word on Marta Rivera.
“No,” he says. “But if that’s the car we’re looking for, she might be in Phoenix.”
He surprises me again by asking if we’ve discovered anything of interest on our trip.
“Well, we’ve got four feathers now. All from victims who went missing on the solstice. One year apart.”
“About that,” he says, “there’s something I need to tell you.”
He starts to explain that he asked the lab to bump the feathers in favor of evidence from the raid. I tell him that I already know and—now it’s my turn to surprise myself—I tell him that I understand. I’m thankful for Carlos advising me to proceed with caution. If I’d let Ryan have it two days ago, I doubt he’d be asking us to go to Phoenix right now.
“Now that you’ve got all four,” Ryan says, “maybe we’ll see if we can squeeze them back to the top of the list.”
I thank him and hang up the phone, thoroughly flabbergasted.
“Wonders never cease, I guess,” I say.
“What happened?” Ava asks, taking another sip from her lemonade.
“Got a lead on Marta Rivera’s kidnapper,” I say. “We’re going to Phoenix.”