Edge

radio on and I said, “You don’t mind, I’d rather keep it off. Better to concentrate.”
    “Oh. Sure.”
    I saw that Amanda was looking at me in the mirror.
    “Was that all because of me, back there?” she asked. “Because of my blog?”
    “Yes. He’d linked your screen name to your real name through a social networking site. He tracked the post to Bill’s neighbors and then to his house.”
    She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I . . . I thought you meant I couldn’t use my computer. I didn’t know he could track us. I used my nic.”
    But she was a smart girl. She’d have had aninkling of the risk but in the oblivion and zeal of adolescence she hadn’t thought it through or hadn’t cared. Most likely, a little of both.
    Amanda then added, “It’s just I felt really bad about Susan—this sophomore at school.”
    “The one who killed herself?” I asked.
    “That’s the thing. It was a car crash but she was driving real fast and stupid, like she didn’t care if she lived or not. That’s a kind of suicide, our counselors tell everybody. I wanted to blog about that, make sure people know that being reckless can be just like taking pills or hanging yourself.”
    A curious thought struck me: Here was this young girl devoted to looking out for people. She was, in her own way, a shepherd. I wondered, if I had had a daughter, would she have turned out like Amanda? I would’ve been proud of her, I knew that.
    But that thought, like so many others today, got carted off to the dust bin.
    She asked, “He wanted to kill me?” in the monotone of somebody who doesn’t really believe they could ever die.
    Carter stirred and was about to reassure the girl. I now knew, though, that she required little coddling. “No, he wanted to kidnap you and get your father to tell him something.”
    “Tell him what?”
    “We don’t know.”
    She fell silent and stared out the window.
    Some lifters have standards. Some won’t hurt women or children. Some rely on mental or professional pressure or risk of embarrassment or financial loss. There are some cases they won’t take on and some limits to what they’ll do to coerce informationout of people. They assess the principals and use the minimum edge necessary to get the information they’ve been hired to get. At the other extreme are the ones like Henry Loving. They’ll take whatever steps they decide are appropriate.
    Curiously, I respect these hitters and lifters more than the others. They’re as true to their standards as I am to mine. They determine their goal and achieve it in the most efficient way possible. This makes them more predictable.
    Amanda asked, “Is Jo totally freaked?”
    “Not really,” I told her.
    “Are you sure?” The question was wry.
    “Okay, she’s freaked. But she’s safe, with your father and aunt.”
    “Good. . . . I’m sorry, Uncle Bill. I kind of messed things up.”
    She didn’t hesitate to accept responsibility for what had just happened.
    “Everything’s going to be fine.”
    I slowed, then signaled and turned. Amanda frowned, looking at the low stone building we were now approaching. She said quickly, “I . . . Are you taking me here because of what I did? I mean . . .”
    I couldn’t help but smile. “No, no, it’s just a safe place for you and Bill to spend the night.”
    I pulled up to the entrance gate of Northern Virginia Maximum Security Federal Detention Center.

Chapter 30
    “ WHAT’S GOING ON ? Where have you been?”
    My boss’s voice clattered urgently through my earbud. Irritation and anger—any emotion—always seemed muted when filtered through Chinese plastic and metal but there was no mistaking his mood.
    “Loving got a lead to the Kesslers’ daughter. She’s safe. Loving’s wounded.”
    Ellis asked, “How bad?”
    “We don’t know. Didn’t lose a lot of blood . . . Aaron, he had a helicopter extraction.”
    “He what ?”
    “Claire’s tracking it down, if she can. You ever hear of a lifter having a chopper on call?”
    A thoughtful moment. “No, I never have.”
    “Means his primary’s rich or got professional access to choppers you don’t need paperwork on.”
    “What’s your next step?”
    “I just stashed the daughter in a slammer. It’s safe. She’s under a Jane Doe, a material witness to a drug hit. If Loving’s got anybody inside, I doubt he’ll pay attention and I’ve had the warden cut all outgoing communication for the day. We’re still