Larison nodded, and Dox knew they were both thinking the same way: if there was one thing that could distract a man from his ostensible duties, it was the sight of Delilah.
He heard a car in the parking lot and looked up. Larison and Labee both drew their guns, then went to the window and peeked through the blinds. “Anyone here order a bicycle?” Larison said.
Dox drew the Wilson and went over. There was a van marked PALO ALTO BICYCLES under a streetlight in the empty parking lot. Two guys got out of the van, opened the back door, and took out a couple of bicycles. They set them down, dropped a duffel bag alongside them, got back in the van, and drove off.
“Can’t say I like that duffel bag,” Dox said. “But I think it’s a safe bet this was all Kanezaki’s idea. Recon, maybe.”
He and Larison went out and brought in the bikes and the bag. They opened the bag on a table and examined the contents. Helmets, riding clothes, water bottles, and other gear. Dox looked at it all, shaking his head. “I don’t get it. Bicycle cosplay, maybe.”
Twenty minutes later, they heard another vehicle in the lot. They repeated the exercise at the window. This time it was a pickup truck with a trailer attachment. The trailer had WOODSIDE EQUESTRIAN stenciled on the side.
“Huh,” Dox said, unable to come up with anything else. The rest of them seemed equally dumbstruck.
A stout man in a cowboy hat got out and went to the back of the trailer. He opened it and escorted out a horse.
Dox glanced over at Labee and Larison. “Are we all seeing the same thing?”
Larison continued to stare out the window. “I think someone is delivering us a horse.”
“That’s fine,” Dox said. “Long as I’m not hallucinating.”
Another pickup came into the lot and stopped, its engine idling. The man waved to its driver, then took hold of the horse’s halter and led the animal to the front door. He knocked.
Dox and Larison stared at each other. Try as he might, Dox couldn’t come up with what to do. Or even to say.
Diaz broke the logjam. She went to the door and called out, “Yes?”
“I have a horse here,” a voice called back from the other side of the door in a light Mexican accent. “It’s from Tom.”
Diaz glanced at the rest of them, but no one seemed able to offer guidance. She gave a quick Whatever shake of her head. “Put your guns away,” she said. As soon as they had complied, she opened the door.
“Buenos días,” the man said. “I am Miguel. May I come in?”
Diaz glanced over, but again no one offered anything. She stepped aside and said, “Please.”
The man came in, followed by the horse. It took a few seconds before they were both completely inside. Diaz closed the door behind them.
“Thank you,” the man said. “This is Margarita. Usually she stays in the stables. But Tom told me to bring her in. You don’t mind?”
Margarita swished her tail, but other than that seemed not terribly interested to find herself in an office. Diaz glanced around impatiently, and, when no one offered to help, switched to Spanish with the man. Dox followed most of it. Tom had asked Miguel to drop off the horse. The tack was in the pickup; the pickup and the trailer were theirs; here are the keys; try to get her back to us by three, when the kids arrive for their riding lessons.
Miguel turned to the rest of them. “She’s a good girl,” he said. “Very gentle. Give her a sugar cube and you’ll have a friend for life.” He turned to Diaz and doffed his hat. “Hasta luego, se?orita.”
“Muchas gracias, se?or,” Diaz said. She closed and locked the door behind him. They watched the man get in the second truck, and kept watching until the taillights were gone.