She was more an archaeologist than a cop on this case. The Bandit had long since moved on to new victims. The biggest risk she faced was having her ego bruised.
Or losing her heart to Todd Taylor.
* * *
She didn’t realize what was happening at first. But inch by inch her life turned inside out. The border weekends were what mattered. Two days on and twelve days off.
She always checked in at Company D on Saturday mornings, even if her interviews were a hundred miles north. She had a good excuse. She couldn’t link to the Ranger computer system, so she had to visit the office physically to catch up on documents and forensics.
Taylor just so happened to be in the office every Saturday morning, reviewing the week’s work. He had to work the case on the margins, too. The Ranger higher-ups in Austin wanted the case, but they didn’t like it. The victims were an all-too-forgettable batch of Annas and Esmeraldas.
One fine Saturday morning in December, the unsparing heat finally gone for a couple of months, she didn’t see Taylor’s Silverado in the lot behind Company D’s headquarters. Her heart wilted. What am I doing here? Might as well just go home, the words unexpected, and then—
Oh shit. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know what she’d meant. Her disappointment had nothing to do with the work. She wanted to see Todd Taylor, with his cowboy slouch and piercing hazel eyes. She wanted him to nod her into his office and look her over the way he always did. He never said anything, and he never looked too long, just long enough to make her pulse pick up. She wanted to see him in a way she hadn’t wanted to see a man in a while. Though in truth she knew next to nothing about Taylor, except that he didn’t wear a wedding ring.
When the receptionist buzzed her into the secure area she was surprised to see Taylor in his office, cowboy boots perched on his desk, flipping through a file. Surprised and relieved.
“Where’s your truck?”
“In the shop. What I get for changing the transmission fluid myself. How was the drive?”
And they were off. Not much had happened in the case in the last two weeks. In fact the Bandit had been quiet since the spring. One reason Rebecca suspected he was a cop—waiting to see if the investigation had picked up, if they were close. They weren’t. Taylor had drawn up a list of everyone in the five-county region who had a murder or rape conviction, asked investigators to request they provide DNA samples and fingerprints. Of course, the state already had their prints and samples. Taylor was hoping to provoke them, see if anyone reacted.
“Could work,” she said. Though she didn’t think so.
“So, look, can I take you out to dinner tonight?”
Okay, that was unexpected. What? Yes, no, please. Suddenly she was conscious of what she was wearing, so juvenile but she couldn’t help herself.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous. Just, you drive down here for free, spend weekends, I thought it was the least I could do.”
“I’m in Zapata tonight.”
“I can meet you up there, there’s a barbeque place that’s pretty good. If you like barbeque.”
“Your wife won’t mind?” Smooth, Rebecca.
“Doubt it. Seeing as we’ve been divorced five years.”
* * *
Their affair began.
Not that they ever kissed. Much less had sex. But she yearned for him, and she knew he felt the same. On their dates—if dates was the word—they drank lightly, he sipped Shiner Bock and she allowed herself a single Bloody Mary, if one was on the menu. The drink’s peppery tang went equally well with barbeque and Tex-Mex. They tried not to talk about the case, but her frustration boiled over.
“If the Rangers want it so bad how come they won’t work it properly?”
“I know.”
“Have you ever thought about resigning?”
He put his beer down and looked at her. “Easy for you to say.”
“I don’t like women getting killed and left for the coyotes. I know, call me crazy.”
“You have some bite, don’t you, Boston?”
“Now and then.”
They rarely talked about their families, preserving the illusion of freedom. But eventually, he told her about his marriage. He’d grown up in Lubbock, gone to the University of Texas—the main campus, in Austin. Sophomore year he’d met the middle daughter of an old-money Texas oil family from Houston.
“She liked the idea of marrying a guy who had nothing to do with oil. I