both were. Two foolish boys messing around, trying drugs. They were close friends. I’m sure Danny is as upset by what’s happened as anybody.
As soon as he and his parents get out of their station wagon, I see I’m right.
He looks so thin, almost gaunt, and has deep rings under his eyes. His parents stay by the car as he shuffles up to my front door. Keeping his gaze on the ground, he mumbles “Hello, Miss Molly,” then unfolds a handwritten letter, choking back nerves.
“Alex…Alex was like my brother. He was really cool and fun to hang out with. I loved sharing comic books with him. And camping together. He even lent me his dirt bike sometimes after mine got broken. Which was really nice.”
Danny swallows hard, then continues.
“What happened last spring was the worst day of my life. It was so dumb. I see that now. I would give all the time in the world to go back and—”
“Stop, please,” I whisper.
Danny finally looks up at me. His eyes are bloodshot and wet. His lip is trembling. I can see his pain is real, his guilt genuine. I don’t want to hear any more.
I can’t.
Then I get an idea.
“Neither of us can go back and change the past,” I say. “But what we can do, what we have to do…is keep Alex’s memory alive. Wait here a minute.”
I disappear into the house, then head to the back porch. I reappear at the front door a few seconds later…pushing Alex’s shiny blue dirt bike. A peace offering.
“When you ride it, think of him. How good he was. How much he loved it.”
Danny nods and takes the handlebars, almost in awe.
“I will, Miss Molly,” he says, wiping his nose on his sleeve, suddenly looking ten years younger. “I promise. I will.”
5 minutes, 5 seconds
Mason hates this part.
He’s a crime solver. Not a speechmaker. Definitely not a cheerleader.
But every once in a while, he knows he’s got to rally the troops. Especially when they’re under his command.
“All right, listen up!”
As special agent in charge of the joint Key Bank/Golden Acres investigation, Mason is addressing a roomful of fellow Feds, Texas rangers, county sheriffs, and—given the tip from Narcotics and the possible drug connection—a liaison from the DEA.
The group’s borrowed a small conference room at a local police headquarters in the nearby Texas town of Pampa. The room is actually a little too small to fit the dozen or so (mostly overweight) law enforcement officials stuffed inside of it. But it does meet one critical criterion.
It has a functioning air conditioner.
“I’m going to keep this quick, and let all of you get back out there,” Mason says, firm and encouraging. “But just to bring everyone up to speed…”
Mason begins by summarizing all the progress that’s been made since yesterday’s horse-ranch heist. The past twenty-four hours have been a wild whirlwind.
First, the serial number on the fifty-dollar bill given to the valet matches one of the marked bills taken during the Key Bank robbery.
“Given the million-to-one odds of that being a coincidence,” Mason adds, “if any of you doubt that these two crimes are connected, may I suggest you go buy a lottery ticket.”
Next, a red 1996 F-150 fitting witnesses’ descriptions—and with tires that matched the tracks found at the valet stand—was discovered parked northbound along State Highway 83. Units initially focused their pursuit in that direction, but also swept west and south, in case the pickup truck’s position was meant to be a misdirection—which many agreed it probably was. But the trail went cold.
“The truck’s being ripped apart by Forensics as we speak. Nothing yet. My guess is, our perps were smart enough to wear gloves.”
Mason then shares that the recovered bullets and casings have already been analyzed by the El Paso field-office lab.
Unlike with the shotgun shells at the bank that bore zero unique ballistic markings, this time techs were able to extract a wealth of information. The rounds were likely fired from a CZ-805 BREN, a state-of-the-art, military-grade assault rifle. Though designed and manufactured in the Czech Republic, these weapons are used by elite police units and Special Forces teams around the world—including Mexico’s federales.
“Mexico’s cartels, too,” Agent Marissa Sanchez of the DEA adds pointedly. “It’s becoming their gun of choice. We’re also starting to see more and more of those killing machines cross the border.”
Murmurs of displeasure ripple around the room.
Then Mason drops the biggest bombshell of all.
Just hours after yesterday’s heist, an anonymous call came in that helped pinpoint