24

AS SOON AS REB STEPPED DOWN OFF THE BUS AND PASSED THROUGH the gate, the agents watching him could relax. But he didn’t climb down from the bus and go into the house as he was supposed to. Instead he stood beside a large oak, holding his backpack, and stared at Alice Walters’s house across the street. Thorne Greer trained the binoculars on him and waited. As Thorne watched, Reb began walking toward the Walters house. Woody sat up from the monitors and stood behind Thorne.

“Shit!” Thorne said. “What in hell’s he up to?”

Reb crossed the street and didn’t stop until he was halfway across the lawn. When he stopped, he looked up at Thorne and yelled, “Hey, Mr. Greer, I want to talk to you!”

“What’s going on?” the local agent, Alton Vance, who had been following the bus, asked over the radio. He was down the street watching from the Volvo.

“I don’t know,” Thorne said. “He’s yelling that he wants to see me.”

“Better do something,” Woody said, entertained.

“Wish I was in on your joke. This is shit. With my luck Martin will drive by and see—”

“A boy talking to a house?” Woody laughed again.

“I’ll open the front door,” Thorne said.

“Do you imagine that Martin doesn’t know we’re here? I assumed he was supposed to see us,” Woody said.

“What do you mean?”

Woody shrugged. “I assumed you wanted him to know we’re here. That it’s just supposed to look like we’re trying to stay secret.”

“What are you saying?”

“We did everything but take out billboards. We could have stayed invisible, but you had us doing close cover. Hell, we were spotted by kids! You’re too good to be that sloppy.”

Thorne walked to the door. “Orders shouldn’t be questioned. I don’t know exactly what Paul’s thinking, but I trust his judgment.”

“So did what’s their names—Hill and Barnett, was it?”

Thorne was in the hallway, but he whirled and cast a look of pure fury back into the room.

Woody opened his hands and shrugged. Then, when Thorne was clear, he smiled.

Thorne stormed down the stairs to the front door. He waved Reb inside. Reb stepped to the edge of the front steps and no farther.

“Reb. You aren’t supposed to know we’re here. Remember? See, if you don’t know we’re here, then you can’t be yelling at me or standing in the yard. Because someone could see us. Remember?”

The boy stood firm and fixed his eyes on Thorne. “I want to see my father.”

“Reb, that isn’t something I can control. I mean—”

“Then I won’t cooperate. I’m going to wave at Woody and Sean and you, too. Every day I am going to stand here until I get to talk to him. He’s in there, isn’t he?”

“No, he isn’t. Come on in,” Thorne said. “We can talk.”

“After I see him.”

“After you satisfy yourself that he isn’t here.”