Beyond Limits by Laura Griffin

deployment, and she hadn’t even bothered to return his messages.
    But she was here now. And although he was ninety-nine-percent sure this little visit was about work, he’d take whatever advantage he could get and exploit the hell out of it.
    “Want to do some shooting?” he asked. “I can grab us some ammo.”
    “No, thanks. I’m here on business. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
    He led her around to the front, where he slipped some quarters into a drink machine. He pounded out a Coke and offered it to her, but she shook her head. He took her to a low brick wall that divided the range from the gravel parking lot. Her generic white rental car looked like a toy in the sea of pickups.
    She sat down on the wall. “I’ve been thinking about your offer.”
    He smiled as he popped open the can. “Which offer is that?”
    She pretended not to understand. “You said you might be able to help locate Rasheed.”
    “Not ‘might.’ I said I would.” He swigged his drink. “Provided you give me some intel.”
    She glanced around, clearly uncomfortable, which told him she was doing this on the down-low. She pulled a folded slip of paper from her purse. “You were right.” She handed him the paper. “About the surveillance cams. We have Rasheed getting into a 2005 Chevrolet Cavalier.”
    Derek sat down beside her and studied the picture, which had obviously been enlarged. Rasheed was fairly clear, but the driver was little more than a shadow wearing a baseball hat.
    “No plate?” He looked at her.
    “Unfortunately, no. We’ve checked stoplight cams, ATMs, all the gas stations in town.”
    “Where’d this come from?”
    “A bank several blocks from the truck stop,” she said. “It’s the only camera footage we’ve been able to find. The driver navigated to and from the truck stop on side streets, avoiding all major intersections—which suggests to us that they know the area is under surveillance and scoped it out ahead of time.”
    “These guys are smart. They plan operations years in advance. You can’t underestimate them.”
    “I know.” She leaned closer, and he could smell her perfume or her shampoo or whatever it was. She pointed at the picture. “See this back panel here? There’s a slight dent in it. Another distinguishing characteristic is the oversized tires. Factory tires for this car are fourteen inches, not eighteen. But aside from that—”
    “It’d be better to have a license plate.”
    “I know.” She looked up at him. “But right now, this is it. Sixty-eight minutes after Rasheed is first seen arriving at the truck stop, he catches a ride with a blue Chevy Cavalier. I’m working one more lead, though: the registration sticker on the windshield. I sent the image to our lab techs to see if they can enlarge it.”
    He looked at her. “Not a bad idea.”
    “Thank you.”
    Derek stared down at the picture, examining the time stamp. “Come on.” He swung his legs over the wall and led her to the parking lot. He dug a map from the glove box in his truck and spread it out on the dusty hood.
    “What are you looking for?” she asked.
    “He slipped through our back door into Texas. He knows Del Rio’s a hub for trafficking. He knows it’s under surveillance by the feds. Which means his contact knows better than to circle around town, attracting attention. I’m thinking the driver was waiting somewhere else and made the trip straight in, which gives us a seventy-mile radius . . .” He scanned the towns around Del Rio.
    “ If he drove the speed limit.”
    “Safe bet. If they’re avoiding surveillance cams, they’re avoiding traffic cops, too. Bingo.” He tapped the map. “Uvalde. You should check out this town.”
    “We’re already on it. But you’re assuming someone drove straight there. The driver could have waited after getting the call, then come from someplace only a few miles away.”
    “I’m not seeing it,” Derek said. “Why risk exposure longer than