The desert air was almost cool, Joule thought. Though she had a lightweight jacket tied around her waist, she didn’t yet put it on.
Her good walking shoes were laced tightly on her feet and bandaids were shoved in her pocket. They’d just bought the shoes the other day and hadn’t had time to break them in yet.
Her brother was there in his ever-present cargo pants, with a lightweight long sleeve shirt already on. He didn't have the same kind of body heat that she did.
Next to her, Amber and Gisela showed up in bright colored cargo shorts, thick socks lining their hiking boots. Gisela had a tank top and a short sleeve jacket already on. Amber had a bright blue T shirt with a logo from a local cider brewery from some other state and likely some other job.
They'd all parked right near the tire tracks where Sarah's car had once been.
“What do we have?” Joule asked everyone, somehow stepping into the position of leader, but likely only for the moment.
“I've got Brooklyn's bag.” Amber motioned over her shoulder to the large backpack she carried. “I rearranged it, I don’t like hauling a duffel.”
The twins nodded at her. The Walkers didn't ask.
“I've got this,” Malcolm reached to his side. His plasticky 1980s windbreaker having covered the gun to where Joule hadn't even noticed.
“Semi-automatic?” she asked.
He nodded. “Illegal eighteen round clip.”
It was Cage who said, “I don't think it's illegal here so at least no worries on that.” Then her brother moved his own jacket revealing the gun at his hip, too.
It was the one that their father had given them. But they’d bought another this afternoon for Joule to carry. Too new, too stiff, the holster clipped into the side of her pants was heavy. The weight and discomfort a reminder that she had deadly force on her now.
Both twins had the guns snapped in but had already discussed that as soon as they saw movement, they’d be undoing the snaps. She’d noticed that Malcolm didn’t have his secured.
She was grateful now that her father had trained them carefully. The last thing she ever wanted was to kill the wrong thing. She had enough regrets in her life as it was.
It was Aurora who waved her hand up and down at Joule and asked, “A bow and arrow?”
“Arrows.” Joule smiled and twisted to show off her quiver, stocked full. “Metal tips.” She pulled the bow off her other shoulder where it had slung easily. “Compound, with a wide range.”
“She's probably better with that than with a gun,” Cage told them.
It had been a while since she used the bow. Luckily, the little rental house was out at the edge of town in the middle of nowhere. She’d called out to make sure no one was nearby then planted practice shots in nearby tree trunks. Then she’d made her brother come out to throw objects into the air and roll them along the ground for her to aim at.
Her skill returned quickly.
“Me, too,” Amber said, pushing her hip out to one side, and pulling back the jacket wrapped around her waist. Her gun, like Joule’s, was on the left side.
Interesting, another lefty. Everyone had a holster. No one had stupidly stuck their gun down the back of their pants. Even more impressively, Amber immediately added, “My mother is a US Marshal. I'm trained.”
Which, ironically, left only Malcolm Walker as possibly the least handy of them with the weapon.
“We've got water, sports drinks, and snacks.” Aurora changed the subject as she hefted a clearly heavy backpack and pointed at the one Malcolm carried as well. Shiny and new, but bright in color, they would not blend into the night.
That had been the point. They’d all discussed it. Malcolm's 1980s jacket was the same shade of blue as the sky. Aurora wore a white sweater. Joule’s jacket was a pale pink. Cage had struggled to find something bright among his usual darker colors. He had on a bright blue national parks shirt, and Joule had managed to convince him to at least wear his lighter colored pants.
They wanted to stand out. They didn't want to sneak up on anyone. Because, if the officer was right, there were all kinds of things passing through here. All kinds of places that Sarah could have disappeared. Though Joule didn't like to think about it, all kinds of people that would have found it easier to kill Sarah than to let their secrets get out.
“So, how do we split up?” Malcolm asked.
“Before that,” Cage told them, “Joule and I have some information to share.”
“What's that?” Aurora asked, the tone in her voice latching on, as if maybe they had just found Sarah and hadn't yet said so. Sadly, that was not the case.
“If you remember, we took pictures of the prints of the tire tracks out here the other night. The tires of the car that were parked next to Sarah,” Cage pointed at the ground where the faint prints could still be seen if a person knew where to look, “matched Salvador Torres, who lives in apartment one-oh-four.”
Joule held out her phone, having pulled up a picture of the man. She showed it around the group. Then added, “The prints from some of the other tracks out here match two of the other cars in the parking lot of the apartments.”
Amber and Gisela looked at each other, worried now. Joule could read their concern. Were they living in a building that was part of a criminal ring? Could Helio Systems Tech have simply failed to check information like that?
It hadn't crossed Joule’s mind before now. And she wasn't sure why it would have crossed anyone else's to find out more. It seemed more than possible now that was the case.
The Walkers nodded. Malcolm and Aurora’s eyes turned to each other, sharing something the rest of them didn’t know.
Joule could see something was coming. Sure enough, Malcolm stepped forward.
“We learned something yesterday, too.”