Shiver

dollars in cash! You just don’t get that coming your way every day. I knew that the only way we were going to be able to keep it was if the Zetas thought Marco had hidden it someplace where they couldn’t find it and then he was killed. So I hid him, and the money, and got you on board. I had to use you because you were one of mine, and sincethis wasn’t going to be a real operation nobody else in the chain of command could know anything about it. I needed somebody who reported to me, and no one else. The reason I chose you instead of one of the other members of the team isn’t because I don’t like you, you know. It’s just that you look something like him”—he nodded at Marco, who was standing silently with his gun trained on Danny, Crittenden’s perfect henchman—“which made it easier. So I got you into witness protection, put the word out on the street that Marco was going to sing his little insides out about the inner workings of the cartel, and waited for them to kill him. Uh, you. Only they kept screwing up.”
    “Sorry about your luck,” Danny said.
    “You always were a lucky son of a bitch.” Crittenden regarded him almost with affection. “So how did you figure out it was me?”
    “When the town house blew up I knew something was wrong. Veith didn’t want to kill me until after I told him where the money was. Blowing up the town house wasn’t something he’d do.”
    “I thought blowing up the town house might be a little strong,” Crittenden admitted. “But I started getting antsy about Veith. Once he started talking to you about the money, he worried me. So I thought, why not tip him off about your whereabouts, then wait until he came to kill you and kill you both in one fell swoop? Plus, I started thinking that it would be better if your body weren’t so recognizable, if you know what I mean.”
    “Yeah, I got that.” Danny’s voice was dry. “But it was shooting down the plane that did it. I remember your military record:you did that in Afghanistan all day and all night. You should have known I’d catch on after that.”
    “I had to do it. That damned Veith was taking you to José Calderon. He’d know you weren’t Marco the minute he set eyes on you. Anyway, you were supposed to be dead.”
    “Again, sorry about your luck.”
    Crittenden glanced toward the woods. “Where the hell is that girl? How long does it take her to pee?”
    “I think I see her coming right now,” Danny said, and lifted an arm in a big wave.
    Almost immediately, an army of FBI agents in black covert attire came out of the trees, their weapons trained on Crittenden and Marco. Directing them was Mayhew.
    “Drop your weapons!” came the roar. “Hands in the air!”
    “Surprise,” Danny said gently as the agents advanced.
    Crittenden and Marco dropped their weapons and put their hands in the air.
    “How the hell did you get them here?” Crittenden growled.
    Danny put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the cell phone Crittenden had provided him with.
    “I made a call,” he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
     

     
    A few days later, Tyler was practically hanging out the window of Kendra’s second-floor apartment. Watching him, Sam felt a wave of thankfulness so strong that it almost brought tears to her eyes. When she had been brought down off that mountain—Danny had stayed behind to do whatever it was FBI agents did—she’d had the agents escorting her take her straight to Tyler. He’d been with Sanders and Groves and O’Brien in a back room in the FBI office in Pocatello. When she had walked in, he’d yelled, “Mom!” and rushed into her arms. Hugging him like she was never going to let him go, Sam thought about how close she had come to never seeing him again and sent a profound thanks winging skyward.
    Sometimes, apparently, prayers were answered after all.
    “We looked out for him,” Sanders told her, and she smiled at him as she finally let Tyler go. “He’s a smart kid. He came right to us, told us what had happened. Otherwise we probably all would have died trying to pull you guys out of the damned fire.”
    “I’m sorry about Abramowitz,” she said, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
    “He was a good man.” He glanced around, lowered his voice. “Goddamn FBI. Glad this mess is their screw-up and not ours, though.”
    “You know that you weren’t guarding the real Rick Marco, right? His name is Danny Panterro. He’s an FBI agent.”
    “We just got filled