They moved. "When we move, they move." Emily said, which means Barker tipped them before you shut him down. He had maybe a 15-minute window. 15 minutes is enough, she said, not accusatory, just factual.
They know we relocated. They don't know where. That gives us time, but not a lot of it. Torres is tracking the vehicle and she'll call if she gets a position. "What do you need from me right now?"
Gallardo asked. "Contact the FBI case agent on the Varga prosecution. His name should be in your brief. Tell him the family has been relocated, that there's been a security compromise on the protection detail, and that we have active evidence of current surveillance. He needs to know this case has become a live threat situation again.
That's going to reopen the protection question federally." "That's the point." Emily said. "The goal is to get federal coverage back in place. My job is to keep this family safe until that happens.
I am not the long-term solution. I'm the bridge." Gallardo looked at her. There was something in his expression that hadn't been there when he'd pulled into her parking lot 3 days ago, a quality of revised estimation that people develop when they watch someone function under pressure. "You want me to make that call tonight?"
"I want you to make that call 5 minutes ago." She said. He went to make the call. Emily stood in the dark and waited for Torres. Torres called at 1:47 a.m. "I've got a partial position on the primary vehicle."
She said, "on Highway 89A moving south from Sedona. That's 60 miles from Rimrock." Emily felt the number land. 60 miles, 2 hours if they were driving without urgency, less if they had reason to move fast. "They're sweeping south," Emily said, "looking for where we went.
That's my read. They know you relocated, they know the general direction of travel, and they're working the probable routes systematically." "How many vehicles?" "Two confirmed, possibly three. My contact isn't sure on the third."
"Okay," Emily said. "Torres, I need you to do something that's going to feel counterproductive." "Tell me. Feed them a location, something that looks plausible, but puts them 12 miles east of here. Buy me enough time to get the family to a secondary location before they triangulate this one."
Silence on Torres' end. "That means I'm putting information into a channel they're monitoring." "Which means you have to be careful about how you do it." "I need it to look like a genuine leak, not a plant." "Em, if they figure out it's planted I know the risk," Emily said, "but I need 4 hours and right now I don't have 4 hours.
Can you do it?" Torres breathed out slowly. "Give me 30 minutes." "Thank you." She hung up and went inside and knocked on Gallardo's door.
He was still on the phone with the FBI. He held up one finger. She waited. When he ended the call, his expression was something between frustrated and relieved. "The case agent is Mitchell.
He's been pulled off the Varga case for a jurisdictional reason I didn't fully understand, but his supervisor is being looped in tonight. They'll have a formal response by morning." "Morning is fine," Emily said. "We need to hold until morning and then potentially until early afternoon." "Here's what's happening with the crew."
She laid out Torres' information quickly. Gallardo listened without moving. "A misdirection plant," he said when she finished, "if Torres can pull it off." "And if she can't then we move again before first light and find a third location." Emily looked at him evenly.
"This is manageable, Vincent. I need you to stay calm and trust the process." He looked at her. You've done this before. Not just the protective detail part, all of it.
The misdirection, the counter surveillance, the improvised relocation. "Yes," she said, "for the angels." She didn't answer that directly. "For people who needed it," she said. He nodded.
She went to check on the family. Sophie was awake when Emily looked in. The girl was sitting cross-legged on the bed while her parents slept or tried to sleep in the double bed beside her. She had a small notebook open on her knee that she was writing in, and she looked up when Emily appeared in the doorway without startling, which meant she'd heard the footsteps and identified them as familiar before the door opened. "You should sleep," Emily said quietly.
"I know," Sophie said, "I will." "What are you writing?" Sophie looked at the notebook. "Things I want to remember about this." Emily leaned against the door frame.
"What things? How you talk to people?" Sophie said. "You say exactly as much as needs to be said. Not more.
My dad talks too much when he's scared. My mom talks in circles. You just say the thing." Emily was quiet for a moment. "That's something you develop when you've been in enough situations where extra words cost you."