After handcuffing Linda and me together, Cholla barked at her half-brother to get the car ready, then hurried to the rear.
Sullen-faced, James-Henri led the way into a garage illuminated by harsh fluorescent lighting. Lining the left and right walls was granite-shell cabinetry while slat-wall panels and two lockers took up the back one. A covered gas grill sat to the side of the lockers while a recently washed and waxed black Range Rover was parked smack dab in the middle.
“How"d you get here?” I asked nonchalantly, taking care as I climbed into the vehicle so as not to inadvertently jerk Linda.
“Does it matter?”
“I"m guessing you don"t want to leave any trails or traces,” I replied cordially, shifting to allow room for my colleague.
Waving the P320 dismissively, he smiled dully. “I r
