Texas Outlaw (Rory Yates #2) - James Patterson Page 0,67

she glances down to see the head of a snake making a tunnel through her hair as it slithers out into the river. Her body goes cold from head to toe, and she bites her lip to keep from screaming. She nearly faints with relief as the tip of its tail slides out of her hair.

The snake, about three feet long and the texture of rough bark, is an olive-green color with dark vertical bars along its sides. The snake glides atop the water, its undulating body propelling it forward.

“Hey, check out this snake,” one of McCormack’s men says.

Another one laughs and says, “Watch this.”

The air is filled with explosions of automatic gunfire. The sound is deafening, and Ariana nearly shrieks in surprise. Spouts of water burst into the air as the bullets rain down into the river. The snake disappears, leaving only a trace of blood in the water.

The men howl with laughter. Gun smoke hovers over the surface of the river like morning mist.

“All right,” one of the men says finally. “Fun’s over. Let’s go find that pretty little cop and see if we can’t make her disappear like that snake.”

McCormack’s men start pitching their cigarette butts into the water, each one making a hissing noise as the water extinguishes the embers. Ariana exhales in relief as she hears the ATVs come to life. The engines whine loudly as they drive off into the hills. She waits until she can no longer hear them before she swims out into the water and finds a place to climb out that isn’t so steep. She lies on her back in the dirt, taking deep breaths and trying to calm her nerves.

Her wet clothes cling to her body as she sits up to pull her boots off and dump the water out. She’s in the midst of pulling her socks off and wringing them out when she hears something and freezes. She stares toward the hills, alert.

It’s the whine of the four-wheelers.

They’re coming back this way.

Chapter 72

I STOP MY truck down by the river at the park in Rio Lobo where Ariana and I once had lunch. I stare out at the water, glimmering in the sunlight, and try to think. A father with two toddlers is having a picnic on the grass. A woman fly-fishes out in the water.

My heart keeps racing, and I don’t know how to slow it down. I’m up to my neck in some serious shit, and I don’t know how to find my way out. Getting kicked off the case—getting kicked out of town—isn’t something I was expecting. Now I don’t know what to do.

My phone buzzes on the passenger seat, and I see that it’s Dale Peters calling. I don’t answer. The last thing I need right now is to explain to him why I can’t jam tonight or play another gig at Lobo Lizard.

I’ve already made up my mind that I’ll head out to the open space tonight and camp with Ariana. Then I’ll really be a fugitive, hiding out with a wanted murderer. But after that, what happens next? How can we possibly solve these crimes if we can’t show our faces in town?

My phone buzzes again, and I expect it to be another call from Dale. But it’s not.

It’s Willow.

I pick up. I’ve ignored her calls long enough, and I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk to her again.

“Where’ve you been, Rory?” she asks. “You’ve got me worried sick.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Things aren’t going so well here.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

I debate about how much to tell her. I remember Tom Aaron saying that he and Jessica don’t keep secrets. I don’t want to lie to Willow, but I also don’t want to worry her. And then there’s the issue of Ariana. How I feel about her. How she feels about me.

I don’t want to lead Willow on. But I sure as hell don’t want to break her heart over the telephone.

“I don’t want to keep you,” I say. “I’m sure you need to get to a meeting with your publicist or a last-minute recording session or something.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world, darling. My schedule’s clear today. You’re my number one priority.”

Hearing her say this makes my heart ache. Do I really want to break up with Willow? As I ask myself the question, I realize there are two answers. The first is no, I don’t want to break up