Cold Betrayal

35

That was a bombshell,” B. said as Ali exited the interview room. He followed her back out to the evidence locker, where she retrieved her Glock. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing for right now,” she told him. “Let’s deal with one crisis at a time.”

Nodding, B. glanced at his watch. “Catching up with Governor Dunham’s Sprinter is going to be tight. I was pla

As they exited the building, two men in suits were entering. Everything about the new arrivals said FBI, but there was no time to stop and chat. By the time Ali and B. drove back to the DPS parking lot, Virginia Dunham’s Sprinter along with the two chartered buses were the only vehicles left behind. Ali paused long enough to grab her Kevlar vest from the back of the Caye

“It’s about time,” Governor Dunham grumbled, motioning them into the last two seats. “We were about to leave without you.”

The interior of the Sprinter had been converted into something that reminded Ali of the cabin of a small jet. It had four captain’s chairs around a polished-wood foldaway table. There was a long sofa of bench seating along one wall. The tiny galley at the front of the vehicle, just behind the cab, came complete with a granite countertop and backsplash. A door to the right of that opened and closed, shutting off the cab and allowing people in the cabin complete privacy. At the opposite end of the vehicle were two doors. One apparently led to a traveling restroom and the other to a baggage compartment and rear exit. With plenty of electrical outlets and a built-in printer, the vehicle was nothing short of a traveling office well suited for long official road trips.

The Sprinter’s interior may have been luxury itself, but the mood of the occupants was less than cheerful. Andrea Rogers, along with Patricia and Agnes, had claimed three of the four spots on the sofa. Concerned about what awaited them back home, the Brought Back girls huddled together in subdued silence. The governor was seated in one of the four captain’s chairs with her chief of staff at her side. It wasn’t until after Ali and B. had settled into the two opposing seats that they were properly introduced to Bill Witherspoon.

“Was the interview successful?” Governor Dunham asked.

“Yes,” Ali said.

“Anything I need to know?”

Ali took a deep breath. “Amos Sellers is under the impression that Da

“Stoning?” Governor Dunham asked. “Seriously?”

Ali nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. Amos says that when A

“He mentioned Sheriff Alvarado by name?”

“Yes. The sheriff told Amos later that A

“Except they weren’t,” Governor Dunham said grimly. “They weren’t at all.”

A long silence settled over the vehicle while the governor processed this latest revelation.

“All right, then,” Virginia Dunham said at last, “there’s nothing to be done about any of this right now. We’ll handle it later. First things first. At the moment, there’s been another development. Satellite imaging shows lots of back-and-forth movement between the various residences, the landing strip, and the church up at The Encampment. Because we don’t have any idea of what’s normal around there, the movements may be just that—normal. Bill here, on the other hand, shares your concern, Ali, that our targets may have somehow become aware of our intentions. My decision is that we move forward with the operation regardless. If something bad happens, I’m prepared to accept full responsibility.”

Not full, Ali thought. Some of that responsibility will be Sister Anselm’s and mine.

The Sprinter was moving steadily northward through the night. “All right,” Governor Dunham said, resuming control. “As of now, we’re going dark. Please turn off all electronic devices, iPads and cell phones included. We won’t light them up again until after we’re in position and the operation is under way. At that point, maintaining secrecy will no longer be an issue.”

Knowing how much information could be gleaned from tracking electronic devices, Ali and B. both complied without protest, although Ali wished she’d had time to call Leland and let him know a little about the situation before the no-communication edict went into effect.

“Now,” Governor Dunham said, switching seamlessly from command mode to hostess mode, “how about some di

B., seated on the aisle, hopped up and retrieved two of the lunches and a pair of chilled sodas as well. By now, it had been a very, very long time since breakfast. Ali didn’t pause before tearing into hers. Bologna had never been high on her list of preferred sandwich fillings, but since she was famished, that dry sandwich was nothing short of divine. Ditto for the small bag of chips and tiny container of mandarin orange slices tucked into one corner of the box.

When her lunch was gone, Ali wrapped herself in a blanket that had been thoughtfully folded over the back of her chair. As the Sprinter rumbled north through the night, Ali should have been wide awake and worrying about what awaited them at the end of the road. Instead, once the carbs from the box lunch were absorbed into her system, she was out like a light. Only when the van began to slow more than three hours later did she return to her senses. B. continued dozing and didn’t wake up completely until the van came to a complete stop.

Peering out through the window, Ali discovered that a full moon had lit up the high desert landscape. The van was parked on a wide spot next to the paved roadway in a graveled area lined by an array of mailboxes. Across the highway, a narrow dirt road led off into the distance. Here and there silvery patches of unmelted snow glimmered in the moonlight.

The lights in the cabin had been dimmed, but a glance at the luminous dial on her watch told Ali that it was twenty past eleven. The three-hour fifty-seven-minute drive had taken just that. As Ali settled in for an interminable forty-minute wait, B. reached out to take her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She squeezed back. She was glad to have him here with her; glad that however this turned out—for good or ill—they were in it together.

The door between the cabin and the cab popped open, and the driver appeared in the doorway. “Going outside to stretch my legs, ma’am,” he said to Governor Dunham.

“Don’t be too long,” she warned him.

Ali had carried her vest onto the Sprinter when she boarded and had dropped it on the floor next to her seat. Picking it up, she turned to the governor. “I could use a pit stop, too.”

“Good idea,” Governor Dunham said, gesturing toward the left-hand door at the rear. “Help yourself.”