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“What if,” he adds, “the system is so broken that the only way to do good in this world is to break the law?”
CHAPTER 19
“WHAT ARE YOU talking about?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant—just a buddy chatting over a drink—but I get the sense that Parker just remembered he’s talking to a Texas Ranger. We stare at each other, but the darkness has descended enough that I can’t quite make out his expression. He’s just a shape in the gray light.
“Nothing,” he says finally. “I’m a little drunk. I’ve hardly eaten all day. This alcohol’s going straight to my head.”
He’s quiet for a minute, and I sense he wants to say something. Sometimes, as a police officer, you have to know when to shut up and let someone talk, but this time it doesn’t work. Parker rises to his feet and says, “Look, Rory, I’m bushed. I think I’m going to head for bed. You okay to drive?”
He says this in such a way it’s clear that he doesn’t want me to stay. So much for sleeping on the couch. I tell him that I’ll sit and enjoy the night for a little while and sober up.
“Thanks again for what you did today,” he says. “And come visit again before you head out of town, okay? Don’t mind me. I’m a little drunk.”
“No problem,” I say. “It’s been a hard day.”
“Forget what I said, will you? Strike it from your brain.”
“Sure,” I say.
But as he walks away, I know that I can’t. What the hell was he getting at with all that talk about breaking the law?
I wait a few minutes until he’s inside, and I think hard about snooping around. I could walk over to the barn and take a look inside. Or, if he passes out, I might even be able to sneak inside the house.
But all of that seems risky.
If Parker really is an XYZ Bandit—and that’s a big if—he could be inside his house watching me right now. He was inebriated, but he didn’t seemthatfar gone—not yet on the verge of passing out. From my vantage point in the yard, all the windows are black. There’s no way of knowing if he’s on the other side.
He could be holding a high-powered rifle on me for all I know.
I can’t let on that I’m spying on Parker. If he is one of the bandits, I gain nothing by showing what I’m up to. And if he isn’t, what would he think if he happened to look out the window and saw his friend snooping around?
I rise from my seat and stroll through the grass. I don’t allow myself to turn my head to look at the house.
Act normal.
As I climb into my truck and fire up the engine, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
CHAPTER 20
THE NEXT MORNING, I call Carlos from my hotel room. I’ve got the morning news on, and I mute the sound before he picks up. I was tempted to put the channel on CMT or GAC but decided it would be too distracting if one of Willow’s videos came on.
“Lubbock morgue,” Carlos answers. “You kill ’em, we chill ’em.”
“Jesus, this again,” I say. “Do you answer the phone like that when your captain calls?”
“Nah,” Carlos says. “When he calls, I say, ‘Go ahead, caller, you’re on the air!’”
This makes me laugh.
“That’s nothing,” he says. “You should hear what I say when my mom calls. ‘Lubbock sperm bank—you squeeze it, we freeze it.’”
I burst out laughing.
“You donotsay that to your mother,” I say. “Do you?”
“No,” he says. “My mother’s dead actually.”
“Oh,” I say. I hadn’t known about his mother. “I’m sorry.”
