Special Agent. Valerie Hansen

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      As he drove leisurely toward the historic hotel, Max made little further conversation. He wanted to grill his lovely passenger but decided to bide his time and let her fill the silence as most folks tended to do naturally. A lot of criminals were their own worst enemies in that regard. Either they couldn’t help boasting or they got to rambling on about something inconsequential and their subconscious led them to reveal clues before they realized they were doing it.

      He chanced a sidelong look at Katerina. Sleep seemed to have overcome her. Her eyes were closed and she appeared totally relaxed. Little wonder. Now that the adrenaline rush from encountering the fleeing prowler had worn off he was weary, too. If there had been a café or gas station along the narrow, winding country road, he would have suggested they stop for coffee.

      Katerina stirred. Yawned. Stretched, then winced as her bruised muscles obviously objected. “Where are we?”

      “GPS says we’re halfway to the hotel. Is there any place along here to grab a decent bite to eat? I think we both need a break.”

      She studied the bright dash screen and pointed to a section of road. “There’s a little hole-in-the-wall place there, in Fish Camp. Hard to know if they’ll be open, though. It’s more likely on weekends when long lines of tourists drive past on their way to Yosemite.”

      “I understand it’s a pretty park.”

      “Pretty?” Katerina shifted sideways and stared at him. “It’s amazing. You’ve never been there?”

      “Nope. It was part of my briefing for this assignment but thankfully I’ve had no reason to go there on business.”

      “You never get a vacation?”

      “I could if I wanted time off. It’s not a top priority.” He didn’t have to be looking at her to interpret the sound of disgust she made.

      “I don’t believe it,” Katerina huffed. “You face death on a daily basis, yet you don’t take the time to smell the roses. What kind of life is that?”

      “The kind I prefer,” he replied, sobering and clenching the wheel more tightly. There had been a time when he’d had plans to start a family, to behave the way so-called normal people did. That idea had ended abruptly when a traffic accident had claimed his fiancée’s life. Max had then thrown himself into his work and found the solace that otherwise escaped him. He saw no reason to rethink a lifestyle that had been working well for the past three years.

      “Up there.” Katerina distracted him by leaning forward and pointing toward his side of the road. “See the weathered red-and-white building? That’s it.”

      Incredulous, he nevertheless slowed and signaled for a left turn. “It’s still in business?”

      “Last I heard. I don’t get out here much these days. Which reminds me. You never said anything about my pickup. Is it totaled?”

      “Probably. The local police had it towed into South Fork to clear the scene. I’ll find out for you.”

      “Thanks. Again.” She pulled a face. “I’m getting sick of having to thank you for helping me when I know you have ulterior motives. I suppose, when you figure out I really am innocent, you’ll hit the road and I’ll never see you again.”

      “That is likely. My headquarters is in Billings, Montana.”

      “And you were sent clear down here? Weren’t there any bomb-sniffing dogs in California?”

      “I really can’t discuss it.”

      “Can’t, or won’t?” she asked.

      “Both. Let’s just say it’s classified and drop it, okay?”

      Max was concentrating on his rearview mirror as he made the left turn. To his surprise, a battered old dump truck behind them turned and parked by the weathered building, too.

      Katerina pressed him. “Well, what can you tell me?”

      He chose to refrain from explaining his elite FBI unit but he did shrug and try to divert her attention. “Do you recognize that truck? I think it may be following us.”

      “What do you mean, following us? When did you notice it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

      “Don’t panic. Most criminals prefer better, faster wheels so I doubt it’s a problem.” He saw her shade her eyes and squint at the rusty, dented truck. If its engine was as decrepit as the rest of it, they had nothing to worry about.

      “I don’t...” Katerina began before a sharp inhalation. “Oh, no.”

      “What? What is it?”

      “Shadowed like that, the driver reminds me of the man in the hospital. Doesn’t he look like the prowler we chased, too?”

      “Maybe. There’s one good way to find out. Stay here.”

      Max undid his seat belt and the safety on his holster with one fluid motion, then opened the door on his side and stepped out. Keeping the SUV between himself and the much larger truck, he pivoted toward it and studied the vehicle silently. If the other driver had ignored him he wouldn’t have grown more apprehensive. However, instead of proceeding into the snack shop the way a normal traveler would, the man behind the wheel froze and returned Max’s steady stare.

      That was not a good sign. He started to circle the front of his own vehicle, intent on confronting the truck driver.

      A second man occupied the passenger seat. Max rested his palm on the grip of his sidearm. No one spoke.

      The engine of the old truck revved, proving that it was far from ancient. The hair at the nape of Max’s neck prickled. Something was very wrong. If both men got out and rushed Katerina, could he protect her? He and Opal probably could, although he was loathe to endanger his K-9 partner unless it was absolutely necessary.

      Max raised one hand, palm out and open. “Afternoon. Can I help you fellas?”

      Neither man responded. Max reached for his badge. “Federal agent. Please keep your hands where I can see them and get out of the vehicle slowly. One at a time. Driver first.”

      Instead, the men ducked out of sight. Because the cab of the older truck sat so high off the ground, Max was no longer able to see them from where he stood. He started to draw his gun. The engine roared, drowning out his shouted order to stop. No officer of the law would discharge his weapon under those circumstances and apparently the men in the truck knew it. The driver backed into the road, quickly reversed and ground gears to start forward.

      Max ran back to Katerina, slid behind the wheel and grabbed his radio to alert local police, then commanded, “Fasten your seat belt.”

      “We’re not going to chase them, are we? I mean, how fast can they possibly go in that old truck? It’s on its last legs.”

      “Don’t be so sure. It sounds as if they have a new engine under their hood. Until reinforcements catch up to us we’re going to keep them in sight. If they really are connected to Kowalski I don’t want to lose them.”

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