Hood watched in disbelief but his disbelief couldn't change the truth.

There was Ozburn: tall and well muscled, with a head of long blond hair that reached his shoulders, a gunslinger's mustache. He wore his usual biker clothes and boots and a black bandana. Arms tattooed-Mom, Seliah, the Stars and Stripes, a soaring eagle. In the foreshortened wide-angle image, a combat shotgun dangled from his free hand, down near the bottom of the screen, small as a toy. No doubt who it was: badass Sean, meth and gun specialist with Aryan Brotherhood connections, La Eme connections, friend of the North Baja Cartel.

Supervising agent Frank Soriana, a stocky and often jolly man, looked at the Blowdown team as if they had all, including himself, just been sentenced to death.

Mars, his morose subordinate, stared down at the cheap carpet.

Velasquez played out the rest of the video in slo-mo and the team watched Sean's hand come up and cover the hidden camera; then the screen flashed bright white, followed by black.

He played it through in slow motion again.

"When's the last time you talked to him?" asked Soriana.

"Six days ago," said Hood.

"What about Seliah?"

"Two days ago. She wasn't any more worried about Sean than usual."

"Talk to her again. Tell her what's happened. Tell her we need to find him."

"Do that sooner than later," said Mars, not looking up from the floor.

Hood dreaded it. Seliah Ozburn was a friend.

"Robert," said Soriana. "Burn a video of Ozburn onto disc and another onto stick and delete every other copy. Every single one, including the master backup. I want the disc and the stick five minutes ago."

Velasquez moved toward the main control panel.

Soriana turned his back to the team and took a call. He listened a moment. "Tell CNN and the Union Tribune those are baseless rumors. Tell the L.A. Times and CBS the same thing. I don't care what Buenavista police told them."