Outside the night thinned by degrees. Trucks began moving on Route 66 again, the road recovering its usual business without any awareness of what had happened beside it. At six forty-seven, Grim's telephone rang, and the number on the small illuminated screen belonged to Phoenix. He opened his eyes. For the first time since leaving the trailer, he felt that the story had reached a point where somebody outside the diner might be able to carry it forward.
The man on the phone introduced himself as Special Agent Thomas Keene, though Grim had known him under less formal circumstances long before that title was spoken aloud. Keene was forty-eight, trim, methodical, and rarely wasted words on anything a document could explain more accurately. Their acquaintance had begun after an unrelated highway investigation years earlier, when both men discovered they disliked people who demanded loyalty before telling the truth. They were not friends. They respected the limits of the arrangement too much for that.
"The preliminary information you've given us matches an inquiry that has been open for some time," Keene said. "I'm not discussing the inquiry over a telephone, but I need you to understand that this isn't beginning from zero." Grim sat straighter. "You have names already?" "We have some names. We need the records your witness collected to see whether they connect."
"Jesse's here," Grim said. "He hasn't left the diner." "Good. Two agents are coming to receive the drive and take a statement. Keep the storage device exactly as it is. Don't let anybody run it through the diner's computer to make a copy."
Keene paused. "And Hayes? Thank the young man for giving you the chance to make this call instead of handling Mercer yourself. I know what might have happened otherwise."
Grim looked toward the corner booth. "I know," he said. Keene continued, "We've obtained urgent preservation orders for certain business and financial records. Additional actions are being considered, but I don't want you making decisions based on rumors that somebody's accounts are already frozen." The warning was measured and necessary. Information that was true before sunrise might cease to be useful by breakfast, and Keene did not want the men in the diner treating an investigation as if it were a finished arrest.
"What about the deputy?" Grim asked. "Holt called an attorney in the early hours," Keene said. "We know that much. Whether he comes forward remains to be seen. Whatever you said to him, don't say it again to anybody on a recorded line until we've spoken to you properly."
Grim glanced at the clock. "Can you keep Clay away from Sarah?" he asked. "We're coordinating with Nevada. Tell me where she is, and let the people assigned to protect witnesses make the decisions they need to make."