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“Sounds about right,” Huong said.
“And in the meantime,” Hawkins said, “you’ll guard the house against looters.”
—
The second househit by Lucas, Rae, and Cartwright showed lights. When they knocked on the door, a woman came to the door, looked at them and said, “Can I help you?”
She was so polite, and so upset when Lucas insisted that they had to clear the house, that all three of them felt bad as they left.
“Not what America is supposed to be,” Cartwright said.
Huong, Stuart, and Hawkins moved on to their next house, the only one they’d seen with a garage. No answer, front or back, and they took down the door. Stuart hit the lights, but nothing came on. “No power,” he said.
He added his own insufferably bright light to the mix, and they cleared the house. “Somebody’s been in here,” Hawkins said. “They were eating these power bar things.”
“Yeah, but when?” Stuart asked.
They got to the garage last, through a door off the kitchen. Huong stuck his head in, said, “Looky here.”
Hawkins looked: A large American SUV. He called Lucas. “There’s nobody here, but there’s a Cadillac SUV in the garage and it’s got those Hertz plates we were looking for.”
“No movement?”
“None. Feels dead, no recent odors.”
“Be right there.” Lucas turned to Rae and said, “Your boys found where they were. They’re gone, but that rental car is still there.”
“Damnit. They got a ride from someone.”
—
They got tothe house ten minutes later, found a crowd of curious MPs standing around watching the marshals who were walking in and out of the house. Cartwright was sitting on a stump looking bored.
Huong walked over to Lucas and said, “We need to find the owners of the house. The neighbors say it’s a couple named Jerry Wallach and his wife Katherine, who moved to Austin, Texas, two months ago, with their kids. Nobody knows exactly where and we can’t find anyone who has a phone number.”
“Was the house up for sale? A real estate agent…”
“The neighbors say there was no ‘For Sale’ sign. They think the Wallachs might be trying to rent it in case the new job doesn’t work out, and they move back.”
Letty showed up with Langer and Devlin, and they all walked into the house, which was skimpily furnished and dark—no power. There were no waste baskets, either, and wrappers for granola bars were crumbled on the floor, pushed into a corner.
“It does look like the owners were trying to rent,” Letty said. “Still a few pieces of furniture…”
The Cadillac was empty.
A Taos cop went to his car and came back with the spelling of the Wallachs’ last name, and the information on their driver’s licenses and automobile registration. A call to the Marshals’ office in Austin got a hunt going there.
Lucas spoke to the chief deputy marshal in Austin, who asked how the Wallachs should be treated. Lucas filled him in on the Taos background, and they agreed the Wallachs should be treated with suspicion, but were not actual fugitives.
“It’s possible that Scott and Catton knew about the house and broke in,” Lucas said to the chief deputy. “When Foss and Callister were spotted, they ran for it. Push the Wallachs on Scott and Catton, see what they know. The minute you get anything, call me.”
“I’ll do that,” the chief deputy said. He added, “Hold on a minute.”
A minute later he came back and said, “They haven’t applied for Texas driver’s licenses yet, or changed their auto registration. This could take a while.”
Lucas stood, arms akimbo, in the garage. “Now what?”
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