With her free hand she shoved the wreckage aside, and dragged the last machine in front of her. Her machine.
Dryden raised his gaze and traded a look with Marnie. Claire looked up at both of them, then unlatched the plastic case and opened it.
She stared down on the machine. The red LED glow shone out from inside it, stark in the shadows of the overhanging pines.
Claire lowered the steel tool until it rested on the machine’s surface. She dragged it lightly across the slats where the light bled through. In the still air, Dryden could just make out the low cyclic hum from inside the thing.
With her other hand, Claire reached down and switched on the tablet computer. She tapped the icon to open the machine’s control program. Four simple buttons: ON, OFF, RECORD, STOP.
She pressed ON.
The cyclic hum sped up. The red glow turned green.
Static. Soft and steady. It might have been the sound of wind pressing through the boughs.
Then it faltered. Receded. A woman’s voice came through.
“—spokesperson for the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department said there is no suspect at this time. The victim’s father told reporters—”
Claire swung the tire iron down onto the machine as hard as she could.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, there are more people to thank than I could ever list, but here goes. My agent, Janet Reid, for much-appreciated encouragement, patience, and advice during the multiple drafts this book went through. My editor, Keith Kahla, whose guidance sharpened the story and made it better at every pass. Huge thanks to Hannah Braaten and so many others at St. Martin’s Press and Minotaur Books: Sally Richardson, Andy Martin, Paul Hochman, Hector DeJean, India Cooper, Jennifer Enderlin, Kelsey Lawrence, Melissa Hastings, Rafal Gibek, Mary Beth Roche, Robert Allen, Brant Janeway, Kerry Nordling, Marta Fleming, Kelley Ragland, Martin Quinn, Jeff Capshew, Brian Heller, Christine Jaeger, and Lisa Tomasello.