12
WILLOW
I heard the clank of metal hitting metal as I crept through the dark and a blast of satisfaction ran through me. My instincts had been right to come out here at night. They never failed me.
Night goggles in place to help me see in the moonless sky—thanks to the DEAs fancy supply closet—I moved forward in a crouch, dressed in black with black smudges on my face to mute the glow of my pale skin. I had my Glock with me this time. And a large hunting knife. And an infrared camera to get evidence.
Markle was moving something.
At night.
In the dark.
And somehow, I seriously doubted it was just cattle although that was what I was seeing through the goggles being loaded into a truck.
This was my favorite part of the job—the solo surveillance work. I liked it far better than using
