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He glared at her sullenly. "No..."
"And you shot at cops," she added. "You can see how this might look."
He swallowed now, tense, shifting uncomfortably side to side. "I didn't hurt Anna," he said adamantly.
"Even after she failed to show?"
He hesitated for a moment before answering. "Anna... she was supposed to be reliable. That's why I was meeting. But I'm not catching a murder rap over some whore. I didn't hurt her!"
Ethan leaned forward, a frown creasing his brow. "But you admitted to the smuggling, Boyd. That's not a victimless crime."
Walter's Adam's apple bobbed again, but he didn't answer.
Rachel let the silence hang heavy in the room, letting the weight of their accusations settle on him. "You caught our attention, Walter. And we'll find the truth, one way or another."
She studied him, and a small part of her wondered if perhaps he really was telling the truth.
He seemed frustrated, angry. But he had fired through the door to miss the officers at his ranch house. With a shotgun, and his background, he would've hit if he'd wanted too.
It was a small thing, but was a kneejerk killer going to hold his fire?
Perhaps... perhaps he'd known he was outnumbered.
But why kill a woman he was going to make money off of?
If what he was saying was true, what if Anna hadn't shown for the meeting because she couldn't. What if she was already dead?
As her mind processed this information, her pocket began to vibrate.
And then—the shrill ring of a phone cleaved the silence. She frowned, turning away from the table. "Ranger Blackwood," she said, keeping her voice low as she spoke into the speaker.
Her brow furrowed as she stalked back and forth, waiting patiently for the replying voice.
There was a brief, temporary pause, and then the voice on the other side said, "We've got three bodies. Side of the road, dumped."
She hesitated.
"Shot?"
"Yup. Long-range, coroner says."
She sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "IDs?"
"Burnt," the cop replied. "Beyond recognition. Still combing through the debris."
"Off reservation?"
"Mhmm... better hurry."
She nodded, hanging up.
"Who was that?" Ethan asked.
But she was already moving towards the door. "Come on," she muttered. "We need to move."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The Texas landscape sprawled under the glare of the late afternoon sun, an expanse of rugged beauty that was both merciless and indifferent. The scorched earth bore the marks of a relentless summer, shrubs clutching at life in the arid soil, their shadows etching dark patterns onto the cracked ground. In the distance, the jagged outline of the Davis Mountains fractured the horizon, their peaks like the serrated edge of a saw cutting through the azure sky.
