The Target

sold his truck to the kidnappers. In other words, his mind is already made up and I doubt he'd change it unless something smashed him in the nose. The word about Agent Anchor is that he's got an attitude problem. He brown-noses up the chain of command at the Bureau and tromps on local law enforcement. Nope, it's got to be one of us who goes. We're not on the FBI's side. We're on the kid's side."

    "And that makes a difference?"

    "Maybe this time it does," she said thoughtfully, lightly stroking her fingers over two thick black strips that were MAX's speakers. She remembered hearing Dillon hoot when MAX had made his first statement, which was, if she remembered correctly, "Hooray for the Redskins."

    She said, "If it were a simple kidnapping, that would be different. But this is big, Dillon, and no one has a clue who's behind it and what they want. Well, maybe Mason Lord does. You know, that's got to be one of the reasons Ramsey's there."

    "All right. I'll phone the field office and let Agent Anchor know we're coming." Savich swiveled his chair back, pulled out his directory, and punched out some numbers on his telephone. The phone rang busy. "Damned thing. I think e-mail should be mandatory for everybody in every department and in every field office in the FBI, maybe even everybody in the world."

    She shook her head at him, picked up the phone, and punched in the same numbers. When it was answered, she asked to speak to Agent Anchor. She said to Dillon, "Phones hate you. It's time to face up to it. Just let me do the dialing from now on. Oh yes, hello, Agent Anchor. Agent Sherlock here from the CAU in Washington. I'm fine, you? Good. I wanted to ask you about the Santera kidnapping. Un-huh. Now, about that farmer you interviewed who claimed he'd sold his truck after his wife had reported it stolen?" In an instant she was staring at the phone as if it had bitten her. "You're kidding me."

    She waited some more, nodded, then said, "When? How? Any leads?"

    She asked more questions, then listened for a couple of more minutes. Slowly, she hung up.

    "What happened?" Savich's voice was tense, low.

    "You won't believe this," she said. "The farmer's dead. He was found three days ago just after dawn by his teenage daughter. His head had been bashed in with a hammer. Whoever did it just dropped the hammer by the body. No clues, no leads as of yet. Of course no fingerprints. As for other forensic evidence, we've got to wait to see. Agent Anchor said he'd call us when he found out anything more. He said they just found out about it from the local cops.

    "The locals said that no one saw anything or anyone. His wife said he always went to the barn just before dawn to milk the cows."

    "And someone was waiting for him."

    She stared out the window. "He had three other kids besides the teenage daughter who found him."

    "Of course it has to be tied to the kidnapping, or whatever the hell it is."

    "Agent Anchor thinks so, at least he now thinks there might be a connection. What do we do now, Dillon?"

    Savich pressed one of MAX's buttons and said in a throaty FBI interview voice that imitated MAX's, "We're going to kick butt, Sherlock."

15

    "I'LL SAY IT again. No way are you going out there on your own. We're in this together."

    He grinned down at her. "Before we get into it, let me compliment you first. You did really well with your dad. You hung in there, didn't lose your temper, and finally he caved. He's pretty smart himself. What I'm thinking now is that I should go to Denver, get personally involved, work with both the local cops and the FBI. As for you and Emma, you'll both stay here." He saw the fear draining the brilliance from her eyes. "I can handle myself, Molly. I won't get killed. I promise."

    The emptying fear left her eyes and anger moved right in. She took three deep breaths.

    "Good. You're getting good at control. When my mom gets really mad at my dad, she throws something at him. My father can still move faster than any human I've ever seen."

    "I'm trying hard not to kick you in the shin. Listen to me, Ramsey. I know you mean well, but there's no way I'm going to let you go out there alone and put yourself on the line." She smiled at him. "It's all for one and one for all. We're the Three Musketeers. Call me D'Artagnon."

    "He was the fourth musketeer."

    "His is the only name I know."

    "I remember Aramis was one of them. Tell me, Molly, which one is Emma? Do we give her a sword or a gun, in this