Innocent as Sin

45

Chandler Mall

Sunday

Yeah,” Faroe said into the mike beneath his collar. He had an earbud in each ear. Hamm was one connection. Grace was the other. “Got it. You make any progress with the cops?”

“Finally,” Grace said. “Good thing one of your old Border Patrol buddies is a desk sergeant.”

“Poor sod.”

“Hey, Sgt. Masters is drawing a Border Patrol pension while drawing full pay from Phoenix PD. Poor doesn’t describe him.”

Faroe grunted. “Be ready to patch me through to Masters.”

“I live to serve.”

He grinned.

Beside him, Lane looked around the parking lot of the huge mall. “Bet they have a cool computer game store here.”

“After you pass that test, we’ll worry about game stores,” Faroe said. Then, into the mike: “No, not you, amada. Lane is jonesing for a shopping expedition. And no, I don’t see a beat-up delivery van with mismatched cargo doors. Hamm says they haven’t left the driveway yet.”

“Lane should be studying,” Grace said through the earbud.

“All work and no play makes-” Faroe broke off and touched the earbud in his right ear. “Hamm says they’re moving. I’m switching over to Rand’s frequency.” He twisted the dial on one of the iPods in his pocket and said, “Angel on the move.”

A scratchy sound came back as acknowledgment.

“Showtime,” Faroe said to Lane.

“Is the TV crew going to be here?”

“Yeah, but you better not see them.”

Lane grinned like a pirate. “See what?”