22
We took the Loop 202 to the northbound Piestewa Freeway. A wave of sadness hit me like a sledgehammer as we drove past where White Nation had set off a massive bomb last December. The memories and trauma drew me back into the emotional hell I’d been fighting.
At the Dreamy Draw exit, I turned west onto Northern and took that to Phoenix’s Sunnyslope neighborhood. The enormous white S on Sunnyslope Mountain gleamed like a beacon against the dark green-gray of the craggy hillside. It was after four in the afternoon when we arrived at Vanessa’s house. I parked behind Shea’s motorcycle.
“Let’s gear up,” I said, “just in case Vanessa’s husband shows.”
Byrd nodded, and we pulled on our weapons and vests.
I pounded on the front door. From inside came the yapping of a small dog.
Shea opene
