the open space that whole time?” the chief asks. “You were gone longer than you needed to be. What were you doing?”
I open my mouth to give him an honest explanation of our whereabouts, including our time eating lunch together and swimming in the river, but Ariana stands up and says, “You don’t need to defend me, Rory. I’m sure this is all some big mistake.”
In my opinion, there’s no use hiding what we did, not when there’s so much at stake, but I can tell Ariana doesn’t want it to get out that we were splashing around in our underwear. No one would believe that’s all we were doing. And this is a small town. She doesn’t want the reputation of being some badge bunny sleeping with the visiting Texas Ranger when she should have been investigating a murder.
“You don’t trust me,” Harris says to me, “and I don’t trust you. So that means we’re both going to keep a close eye on this evidence and make sure it gets handled on the up and up. Got it?”
I nod, not sure what else to do. If my lieutenant was supportive, I’d call him to bring in the cavalry, let the Texas Rangers come in and take over the whole damn investigation. But the way things went with Kyle last night, I’m on my own here.
We’re all quiet for a moment, and then Ariana asks, “Can I stay on the Susan Snyder case until the results come in?”
Harris stares at her, shocked that Ariana doesn’t fully realize the level of danger she’s in.
“As of this moment, you’re on paid leave,” he says. “I need your badge and your gun. And I’m going to put a patrol officer outside your house to make sure you don’t try to run.”
“You’re putting me on house arrest?”
“Not officially,” Harris says. “I’d need a court order for that. But effectively speaking, yes. I don’t want you leaving this house. If you so much as set one foot out your door, I’ll have you arrested, and you’ll stay in our little jail until we get all this sorted out. Understand me?”
She unfastens her holster from her belt. Then she pulls out her badge. She stares at the gun and the badge—her hands trembling, her eyes brimming with tears—and hands them over to the chief.
“As of this moment,” Harris says to Ariana, “you’re no longer a cop.”
Which means, as of this moment, I’m on my own to find out who killed Susan Snyder and Skip Barnes.
Part Two
Chapter 57
GARETH McCORMACK STARES through the M24’s riflescope at his target. He slows his breathing, gets his heart rate under control. His body is completely still. The only movement is his right finger, slowly squeezing the trigger.
The rifle kicks against his shoulder. Fire spits from the barrel. A second later, the bullet zips through a milk jug one thousand yards away and plunges into the mound of dirt acting as the backstop for the range. Milk glugs out of the punctured jug like white blood.
“Good shot, Son,” Carson says, sitting next to Gareth with binoculars.
Gareth sits up and says, “It’s just not as much fun when you’re not shooting at a living thing.”
The sun is setting to the west, spectacular and red.
Before Gareth loads another round into his M24, he notices his phone buzzing. When he answers, he listens more than he speaks. It’s his source from town—one of them—filling him in on the latest.
When he hangs up, he packs a can of Skoal against his palm and puts a plug of snuff into his lip before talking.
“Everything’s working out,” he says to his father, then spits tobacco juice into an empty Dr Pepper can.
Carson sits back and props his python-skin boots up on an empty chair. He notices a clump of mud on the bottom of the boots and takes out a pocket knife to pry it off.
“Let’s not underestimate the Rangers,” Carson says.
Gareth laughs. “That Rory Yates. He ain’t nothing.”
“I’m not talking about Yates,” Carson says. “I’m talking about the whole Texas Ranger Division. We need to get rid of Yates and make sure no one else comes snooping around.” He folds his pocket knife and slides it into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Or if they do send another Ranger, we need it to be someone who will wrap things up quick.”
“No shit,” Gareth says.
If it was as simple as getting rid of Yates, Gareth would just kill him. But killing a Texas Ranger would only bring