Danny walked out beside him. The desert morning was bright enough to show every crease in the hills and every mile of road leading west. The clouds had finally broken, leaving wet pavement and the smell of sage lifted by last night's rain. Two motorcycles started in the parking lot, their engines settling into a steady rumble. Grim looked once toward the corner booth through the window, then turned his handlebars toward Nevada.
The road to Laughlin had dried in patches, though water still lay in the low places and the morning air carried the clean, sharp smell that followed a desert storm. Grim and Danny rode west without speaking, the distance between their motorcycles changing only when traffic or a curve required it. They were not young men trying to set a speed record. They were two men who had spent enough years on the road to know that arriving was the point, even when fear made speed feel like a form of control.
Grim thought of Sarah at the diner, standing in the doorway with her children wrapped around her. He thought of the shallow way she had been breathing and the way she apologized every time somebody did something useful. More than anything, he thought of Ethan at the table, asking direct questions because he had long ago discovered that vague assurances were unreliable. The boy had not asked Grim to punish Clay. He had asked whether his mother would be all right.
The distinction mattered. Grim had spent decades in rooms where men spoke about loyalty, respect, and what had to happen when someone was crossed. He knew the language so well that it sometimes rose to his lips before he considered whether it fit the situation. Sarah's safety would not be proved by Clay's humiliation. It would be proved by her being able to choose where to live, work, and raise her children without having to look over her shoulder every time a truck passed.
Danny pulled alongside him near a long stretch of straight road, then signaled toward a service station. Grim understood and followed him into the lot. They stopped beside a pay phone because reception had been unreliable for miles, and Danny handed Grim his mobile. Keene answered after a pause, his tone already tight. "Where are you?"
"On the way to Laughlin," Grim said. "I promised I'd call before I got close. We're not going to Linda's house, and we haven't contacted Mercer."
Keene sighed audibly. "We've got coordination underway. Sarah's location has been changed, and Nevada officers are aware that her former partner may be approaching. Do not go to the house and turn it into a gathering point."
"I won't," Grim said. "Then what are you going to do?" Keene asked. Grim looked at Danny. The honest answer was that he did not entirely know.
He had started riding because staying in Kingman while Clay hunted a frightened family seemed intolerable. But movement without a purpose could become another way of avoiding thought. "I'm going to stay available," he said finally. "If they need a ride or a witness or somebody to identify Clay, I'm close. Otherwise I won't interfere."