spend playing together, he rotates among guitar, banjo, fiddle, and drum. He even breaks out the harmonica when we play Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again.”
As personalities go, Dale is gregarious and fun to be around, with a comfortable air and an infectious laugh. Walt is much more demure, letting his instruments do the talking for him.
They’re both talented musicians, but I hold my own with them. I sing and play and feel like a kid again practicing in my buddy Daryl’s basement after school. I’m surprised by how much fun I have and forget that I wanted to ask them some questions until they’re putting their instruments back in their cases.
“So what did you guys hear about me?” I ask them, trying to make it sound like small talk. “Why I’m here?”
Dale says he works with Skip Barnes, and Walt works with Alex Hartley, the football coach. Both have heard what I’ve been investigating.
“You’re a lucky man,” Dale says to me.
“Why’s that?”
“’Cause you get to work with Ariana Delgado,” he says and whistles through his teeth. “Man, I’ve had a crush on her since high school.”
“He’s dating Willow Dawes,” Walt chimes in. “Have you seen a picture of her?”
“You’re doubly lucky,” Dale says to me.
“Did either of you know Susan Snyder?” I ask.
“Sure.” Dale shrugs. “Hell, everybody knows everybody in this town. But I didn’t know her well.”
“I voted for her,” Walt says, “but I never actually talked to her.”
“What do you think of the guys who were dating her?” I say. “Skip and Alex.”
“I don’t know if I’d use the word dating,” Dale says.
There it is, I think. Confirmation that people knew she was sleeping around.
“She and Alex was just friends is all,” Dale says. “And I don’t know what she was doing hanging around with Skip. He’s a buddy of mine, but she was way out of his league.”
I’m not sure how far to push this, but I say, “He claims they were sleeping together. Friends with benefits, I guess you’d call it.”
Dale laughs. “I doubt Skip Barnes has been with any woman outside a Juárez brothel.”
“What about Alex?” I say. “He made the same claim.”
Dale and Walt exchange a look that I can’t read.
“Like I said, I always thought they was just friends. What they did on their own time ain’t none of my business.”
With that, the two pack up and climb into Dale’s truck.
“That was fun,” Dale says out the window. “Let’s do it again sometime.”
I give them a wave as they pull out of the lot and then I stand on my porch, thinking.
Earlier today, I thought Skip Barnes was hiding something. Now I think Alex Hartley might have been as well.
And when I think of the look they gave each other, I think my new friends, Dale Peters and Walt Mitchell, are hiding something, too.
Does everyone in this town have secrets?
Chapter 25
I’M DREAMING. I know I am.
But I can’t wake myself up.
I’m back in the bank, with the robber standing on the counter with the AR-15 and the other holding a handgun to my head. Just like before, I drop to my knees as my hat is blasted off my head. I raise my SIG Sauer, aim it at the robber on the counter, and squeeze the trigger. But this time nothing happens.
I miss.
The robber squeezes the trigger of the AR-15 and begins cutting down the customers in the bank. There is no sound. Not from the bullets jumping from the gun barrel. Not from the men and women collapsing in mists of blood, their mouths open in silent screams.
I know I should shoot again.
I have to stop him.
But I’m panicking.
I turn my head slowly—everything seems to be in slow motion—and look at the other robber. His gun is aimed at my face. I stare into the black hole of the barrel.
I should move. I should shoot. I should do something.
But I don’t.
He squeezes the trigger, and I sit up in bed, my chest heaving, my body slick with sweat. I throw a hand to my face, half expecting to find a bullet hole in my forehead.
When I’ve convinced myself that I’m okay, I rise out of bed and walk to the bathroom. I leave the light off, but my curtain is cracked and there’s enough light coming in from the parking lot to see. I splash water on my face. I cup my hands and take a drink.
I walk back to my bed and check the time on my phone. It’s two