He watched Samuel Voss face down on the tarmac of a Scottsdale car park, the easy charm and the rehearsed answers and the steady eye contact all of it pressed flat against the ground. Marcus had made his calls that morning. Ray had made his own on the drive over, giving the fraud division the address, the name, the timing. They’d been waiting.
Samuel turned his head and found Ray standing there. For one moment they looked at each other across the car park. Then an officer blocked the sightline and it was over. Ray watched them put Samuel in the patrol car. Watched the door close. Watched the car pull away into the ordinary Scottsdale afternoon and turn the corner and disappear.