101

Marcus sat behind the wheel of the panel van Yazzie had commandeered from Canyon’s roadblock, his foot pushed to the floor and his mind racing. All he could think about was getting there in time and seeing Maggie’s face.

The drive up into the hills was mostly a quiet one. There had, of course, been the catching up conversations at the beginning: the tales of Liana’s wild ride and his trip through the casino in the Narco tank and Ackerman had felt compelled to talk to them about a killer named Harold Shipman. The most difficult conversation by far, however, had been revealing to Reyna Canyon that her husband was dead. Although, after the fact, Marcus hadn’t noticed much of the reaction one would expect from a grieving widow. She had insisted that they take her to her son, stating that she needed him there after John’s death. But the brothers had quickly dismissed that idea, having no intention of trusting Yazzie to show them the way.

Temperatures in the valley were starting to rise along with the sun, even though the latter remained hidden behind dark storm clouds, which cast the desert landscape into shades of gray.

Marcus couldn’t remember the last time he had slept, but he was far from tired now. He’d already pushed through that wall and was now going to see this race through to the end, even if it was the death of him.

Reyna directed him from the front passenger seat and led the way deep into the hills and canyons north of Roanhorse, to a place where all traces of modern life disappeared and the road came to an end. Marcus threw the van into park and cocked an eyebrow at his navigator. She said, “We’re on foot from here.”