China Lake: An Evan Delaney Novel
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Evan Delaney learns that not only has her ex-sister-in-law joined a religious cult, but the unstable young mother plans to regain custody of her son and disappear with him into the fold of the fanatical group. But when murder raises the stakes, Evan is dragged even deeper into the nightmare.
you.’’ Then I was racing away down the highway toward Copper Creek. The men were waiting for Brian in an interrogation room at the jail. Detective McCracken he recognized, the redheaded cop with the Brahma bull chest. Two others had to be FBI, he thought. They looked the way he’d expect Bureau agents to look: intelligent, wearing blue suits and broomsticks up their butts. A fourth guy, casually dressed, sitting on a table by the window, was with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, the
at the Radio Shack gadgets, said in his jazz-deejay voice, ‘‘We could rig them to act like Geiger counters, add a clicking sound.’’ I picked up one of the little aerosol canisters. ‘‘What’s this?’’ ‘‘CS gas,’’ Brian said. ‘‘Pepper spray?’’ ‘‘Just in case.’’ ‘‘In case what?’’ ‘‘In case the Sidewinder doesn’t sufficiently impress them. If things get squirrelly, I want to disable and confuse them quickly. The CS gas can do that.’’ ‘‘And the fire extinguishers?’’ ‘‘I’m putting one in the
animals when she reached behind a counter to unplug the espresso maker. That was the reason she was suing Beowulf’s Books for nine million dollars. He said, ‘‘And you fled the bookstore because . . . ?’’ ‘‘Those things were going to rip my throat out. They were wild; I thought they were a pack on the loose, prowling around town—’’ ‘‘Drinking espresso?’’ Up popped her attorney. His name was Skip Hinkel, and he wore a suit as blond and tightly cut as his hair. He said, ‘‘Objection,’’ but Judge
‘‘Maybe she can.’’ Quiet hung over us, a comment on long odds. I told him about the FBI, and that the authorities had issued a statewide BOLO—Be on the Lookout. He said, ‘‘And what do you plan to do?’’ ‘‘I’m going out to Angels’ Landing. The police say it’s deserted, but maybe I can spot something they’ve overlooked.’’ ‘‘Don’t go alone. Take Marc Dupree with you.’’ His flying comrade. Behind him, the door rattled open and the guard stepped in. Said, ‘‘Time’s up.’’ Brian drew his twitching
freezer the floor rose up. I said, ‘‘Jesus God.’’ A figure emerged from beneath the floor. Garrett rushed forward, rifle aimed. He was pumped, juiced. ‘‘Down on your knees! Do it! Do it!’’ ‘‘Don’t shoot!’’ It was Glory, climbing out from a crawl space beneath the cabin’s floor, hands in the air. Brian squinted at Paxton. He said afterward that he could barely find his voice, not believing what the man had just said. ‘‘A jet?’’ ‘‘You’re gonna get us one F/A-eighteen, fully loaded,’’ Paxton