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Hondo said, “The driver’s spooked, but I don’t think he knows we’re here.”
“Chalk that up to my excellent tailing abilities.”
“I’ll chalk it up to the driver never seeing this vehicle before.”
I dropped back another fifty yards when traffic thinned. As we continued behind the van, I tried to keep my mind from dwelling on Bodhi and Amber, but didn’t succeed. I decided to keep my mind busy and glanced at the activities on both sides of the road. Picking crews worked in the fields on both sides. I watched the people stooping, then rising. “Zucchini,” I said.
Hondo said, “There weren’t any other vehicles there.”
“And?”
“I tried to call Troy as soon as we reached the house, but he didn’t answer. So, either Troy left in the one he and TJ used, or the bad guys took it.”
“I tried him, too. Twice, and got zip. So where does that leave Troy and his car?”
“If they took it, he might be in the van,” he nodded his head in that direction. “If not, I don’t have a clue.”
“Try him again.”
He did, and again got no answer. We drove in silence, watching the blue van and thinking some dark thoughts. Twenty minutes later we passed the Bakersfield National Cemetery and turned right on Bena Road, just before the Barstow-Bakersfield Highway. We paralleled the highway for several miles before the van turned onto a dirt road leading into the foothills.
I slowed because there was no vehicle between us, and if I turned in behind them, they could spot us immediately. Hondo said, “Drive straight and put the next hills between us. We can climb to the top and see what they’re doing.”
I sped up and found a good place to park off the road. We were out of the Navigator and going fast up the incline of a hundred-foot hill dotted with brush and sparse grass. The evening had turned colder because of an early cold front that passed through, so we didn’t sweat during the climb.
We crawled on our bellies to the top and peeked into the small valley. The van turned onto another road leading to an isolated farmhouse backed against a large cluster of house-sized granite boulders. Brush and enormous green oaks grew in the gaps between them.
The blue van stopped at the house and two black men exited, then opened the sliding side door, hustling the women into the house. The women huddled together and scurried inside, with the two men following on their heels and closing the door. We couldn’t tell if Bodhi or Amber were in the group because they all had shawls covering their heads. Troy definitely wasn’t there.
Hondo rolled on his back and pulled the Sig, checked it, then put it in his holster, “How do you want to play it?”
I looked at the farmhouse again and saw smoke coming out of the chimney. I said, “I’ve got a plan.”
Hondo’s eyes rolled, then he said, “What.”
“Give me your jacket.”
“No, it’s cold.”
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“You’re going to ruin this great plan. Really, it’s awesome, one of the best ones I’ve ever had.”
He sighed and took it off, leaving him wearing a gray tee shirt. Goose bumps popped out on his arms. He pushed it at me, “Here.”
I looked at his chest. “Your nips are standing at attention.”
“Hurry up so I can get my jacket back. And take yours off, too.”
I scooted down the incline towards our vehicle and said, “Come on, I’ll fill you in as we go.”
“If this is gonna take a while, give me my jacket back.”
I kept mine on and carried his over my shoulder, “I’m conditioning it for the mission.”
Hondo pulled it off my shoulder and slipped it on. I said, “Okay, but only for a few minutes.”
