“She is trying to protect herself,” Ana said. “She knows she is an accessory if he succeeds.”

“She helped him plan this from the start,” I said.

“She did,” Ana said. “But she is a coward when the handcuffs come out.”

I leaned my head against the cold glass of the window.

I thought about the agave ranch.

I remembered the summers I spent there with Abigail.

The smell of the dry earth, the sharp green scent of the crushed agave leaves.

It was the only place I had ever felt safe.

My father had always hated it.

He called it a waste of prime real estate.

He wanted to pave it over and build luxury villas.

Now, he was there in the dark, trampling over her memory.

“We need to call the sheriff,” I said.

“I already sent a message to the local deputy,” Ana said.

“Will they get there in time?” I asked.

“They are coming from Santa Rosa,” Ana said. “It will take them twenty minutes at least.”

“We will be there before them,” I said.

“Yes,” Ana said. “We will.”