Page 98 of It Runs in the Family

I told Boone to turn right, and about half a mile down the road I pointed to a gravel road on the left. “Turn there.”

He took the turn. “Where to?”

“There’s a dirt road about a mile down on the left side. It ends in a field under a tree. Sarah used to invite friends to hang out there on the weekends. It’s about a quarter mile from Frontline Road.”

“We’ll have to walk part of the way?”

“Yeah. There’s a barbed wire fence along the road that’s grown over with briars and some cedar trees. If we can sneak up to the fence, we’ll be able to remain hidden and hopefully see what’s goin’ on.” I pinned my gaze on him. “Unless you plan to play your cop card. Then you could walk right up and ask questions.”

“I have no jurisdiction to be asking questions.”

I was still suspicious of his story, but I’d go along with it for now.

I pointed out the dirt road and Boone turned off, slowing down to drive around ruts in the packed dirt.

The road ended next to a large oak tree. Sarah’s boyfriend had dug a fire pit and surrounded it with flat concrete blocks, but it was overgrown with weeds. Boone parked his truck in front of it. The area was surrounded by a lush green field of winter wheat that was nearly a foot tall.

“The party area used to be bigger,” I said as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Sarah’s dad knew we hung out here, so he cut back the field to give us more room.”

He unbuckled his belt too. “Sounds like a cool dad.”

“His philosophy was it was better to have us all here than God knew where else. I think he mostly wanted to keep tabs on Sarah, but he cared about us too.”

He reached for the door handle and turned his head to face me. “You ready?”

I nodded, suddenly overcome with nerves. But sitting in this truck wouldn’t get me any answers.

I opened the door and got out, wishing I’d thought to bring a sweater. The air was still cool, but the sun was out, so I’d likely warm up soon.

The wheat rows ran north to south, so we each picked a row next to each other and walked between the plants.

I cast a suspicious glance at him. “I want it on record that it’s weird for a Texas Ranger to sneak up to a crime scene.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you I’m undercover,” he said, but he sounded amused instead of exasperated.

“You have some strange rules for being undercover.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” he muttered.

We continued in silence, the briar-covered fence getting closer. A small cedar grove to the right provided good cover.

Boone must have been thinking the same thing because he started stepping over rows to shift in that direction, leaving me to follow.

When we got close to the trees, I heard voices on the wind but didn’t see anything on the road in front of us. Boone lifted his chin with a look of concentration. He must have heard them too. The sounds were coming from our left.

We stopped behind the trees and peered between them in the direction of the voices. Several sheriff’s cars were parked on the other side of the road, about a football field’s length away. There were at least ten deputies milling around, along with a white van with Freeman Funeral Home on the side.

“We need to go that way,” Boone said in a whisper, pointing down the fence.

“Really?” I whispered back in mock surprise.

He flashed a grin. “I suppose that was mansplaining.”

“Little bit.”

He let out a soft chuckle.

We headed in that direction, staying in the shade of the grove until it ended. Boone squatted and started inching along the fence, staying low. I crouched and waddled behind him.