Caspian gave her a sidelong look. “Park rangers are armed, so not my bag really. And I’ll have you know park rangers have one of the highest rates of on-duty bear encounters.”
“Are you saying you fought a bear during your one-week assignment with Fish and Wildlife?”
“What I’m saying is that I’ve translated documents from people who have,” he said, deadpan.
They passed a green highway sign announcing that Portland was thirty miles away. To their right, the coastline came back into view between the trees. From the back seat, Nelson stirred.
“What are you guys talking about?” he asked.
“Your brother’s undercover gig at the Department of Agriculture,” Clara said. “Apparently, he’s become the Indiana Jones of houseplants and aloe vera.”
“Your words, not mine,” Caspian said. “Anyhow, you’ve been out for about ninety minutes, brother. We’ll be in Portland in half an hour, unless you two want to stop for a lobster roll? Because if you do, I know just the place.”
Clara’s eyes lit up at the idea. “That would be nice. I haven’t had one of those in forever.”
An hour later, Caspian guided the Jeep into one of the long, straight driveways on Eastern Promenade. His parents’ house was a stately, sea-facing property with clapboard siding and navy blue shutters. It was the kind of house that screamed old money, but the truth was, it hadn’t always looked like this. Richard and Elizabeth Anderson had renovated it themselves, slowly, bit by bit, by scraping together the necessary funds.
As he rolled to a stop, his eyes landed on a dark gray sedan already parked near his father’s GMC Sierra 1500 Denali. The car’s windows were tinted, and the license plate was from New Hampshire. It looked like a rental car, but it could also belong to a federal law enforcement agency.
Like the ATF.
“Hey, Nelson, did Mom and Dad tell you there would be someone else here?” he asked.
“No. Why?”
“Just wondering who owns that gray car,” he said.
Caspian’s father hated surprises. If the feds had shown up uninvited, Richard or Elizabeth would have reached out. While he didn’t completely rule out the sedan and whoever had driven it to his parents’ house as potential threats, Caspian didn’t think someone who meant them harm would have parked their ride in the driveway. He turned off the engine and resisted his urge to adjust the pistol holstered at the small of his back.
Moments later, his parents appeared on the front porch. Both were beaming and waving at them, clearly happy to see their two sons. Before he could exit the Jeep, his phone buzzed. It was Ranger.
“You guys go ahead,” Caspian told Clara and Nelson. “I really need to take this.”
“More aloe vera coming across the border?” Clara asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Either that or someone is trying to import illegal citrus fruits into California,” he replied.
Clara shook her head, then climbed out of the Jeep as Nelson grabbed the suitcases from the back. Caspian took the call.
“Yeah?”
“Can you talk?” Ranger asked.
“I’m alone, and you’re off speaker.”
“We ID’d the woman who shot at you in Valencia,” she said. “Name’s Mia Hernandez. Ring a bell?”
“Afraid not.”
“Believe it or not, she has a website. Professional pianist, apparently.”
“A pianist,” Caspian repeated. “More like a professional assassin, if you ask me.”
“She was supposed to perform in Budapest and Dubrovnik this week—”
“But let me guess,” Caspian interrupted. “Both events were canceled.”
“You got it,” Ranger confirmed. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much else for now except that she lives in Miami. We also think she’s single, but that’s not confirmed. But we’re digging.”
