Page 118 of The Fire Line

“We go back.”

The truck continued east beneath a sky so clear it felt hostile.

After several miles, Jay pointed toward a road disappearing between two low hills. “Does that lead anywhere?”

“Every road leads somewhere.”

“That sounded unnecessarily philosophical.”

“Goes north to the Keller place.”

“The ranch with the disputed well?”

Harris looked over with some alarm.

Jay shrugged. “I read the briefing packet.”

“Course you did.”

“The county gave me forty-two pages. It would have been rude not to.”

Harris just shook his head.

Jay closed the packet and reached for the glove box.

“What’re you doing?”

“Three hours in your truck has made me curious about what you keep in here.”

“Nothing interesting.”

“That is exactly what someone with something interesting in his glove box would say.”

Harris heard papers shifting, the rattle of a flashlight, then silence.

“Oh,” Jay said triumphantly.

He glanced over. Jay was holding up an Orville Peck CD.

“Don’t.”

“You keep Pony in your glove box.”

“Truck’s got a CD player.”

“That was not the surprising part.”

“Already told you I got two of his albums.”

Jay turned the case over, looking far too pleased with himself. “Knowing you own them and discovering one in its natural habitat are different experiences.”

Before Harris could stop him, Jay slid the disc into the stereo.

The first track filled the cab. Jay settled back against the seat, meeting packet temporarily forgotten. Harris kept his eyes on the road, but made no attempt to turn it off.

The rest of the drive passed easily enough that Harris almost forgot to be nervous.

Almost.