Marco went quiet, the silence of a man taking a problem seriously. "Where do I move them?" he asked. Grim could hear Linda in the background, asking why he looked worried. "Ask Linda whether she has a friend nearby who's got no tie to anyone in Arizona," Grim said. "A place they can go while the investigators arrange protection. If there isn't one, we call Keene and let him tell us what secure option exists."
Linda took the telephone. "Carol," she said immediately. "Carol Dwyer, two streets over. I've known her since 1978, and she could keep a secret from the Pope himself."
Grim felt the smallest relief. "Can Carol take them briefly?" "She'll take them, and she won't make them explain why," Linda replied. "I'll go with them. Marco can call you when we're there."
He heard a door open and a small child's sleepy voice. "Where are we going now?" Rosie asked. Ethan answered before any adult could.
"We're just changing houses for a little while. You can bring the sweater. Come on, Rosie." Grim closed his eyes briefly and listened to the sound of the family preparing to move again. They deserved a morning that did not demand vigilance, but Clay had not yet run out of places to reach.
He called Keene with the new information. The agent listened, then said, "We're coordinating with Nevada now. I need you to stay out of the physical confrontation if Mercer arrives. We have people moving, and the more different parties there are in the street, the harder it is to keep everyone safe." Grim heard the strained impatience in Keene's voice. "How far out?" he asked.
"It depends on where he is, and I won't guess about the timing," Keene answered. "We have officers assigned, and they know the risk. Hayes, you've given us useful witnesses and evidence. Don't throw that away because you think everything is your responsibility." Grim looked at Danny, who had his jacket on already. For one long moment he considered staying, and then the image of a frightened child asking for leftovers returned with such force that it became impossible to remain on the stool.
"I'm going to make sure they're not alone," he said. Keene swore softly. "Then call before you do anything, and don't interfere with the people we send. I'm not kidding."
Grim agreed to call, pocketed his telephone, and turned to Millie. "Clay may be heading toward Laughlin. They're moving Sarah and the kids again."
Millie went pale, then became very still. "Linda knows?" "She knows. They're using Carol's place while Keene arranges something more secure."
Millie nodded and reached for her sister's number, determined to hear her voice once more before the road between them became part of somebody else's plan. She looked at Grim over the counter. "You're not going there to fight him, are you?"
Grim had spent most of his life being a man people expected to fight. The expectation had made it easy to confuse fighting with protecting and to avoid the harder work of listening after the noise died away. He thought of the photograph of his son in Millie's back room. "No," he said, and meant it. "I'm going because those kids shouldn't have to stand at another door wondering if anybody's coming."