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She asks if I know what I could do to make things right.
I think about it for a minute. “Yes,” I say, but I don’t elaborate.
There are two things.
First: I need to apologize to the people I’ve let down.
Second: I need to solve the case I screwed up on.
That means catching the real XYZ Bandits.
That’s a tall order, but Willow’s right—I didn’t join the Texas Rangers because I thought the job would be easy.
“Thanks, Willow,” I say, feeling re-energized. “You’ve told me just what I needed to hear.”
She says that I’m welcome, and then there’s an awkward silence between us.
“I know there was something you wanted to talk to me about,” I say. “But can we wait a few days? There’s some stuff I need to take care of.”
I can’t imagine getting into a heart-to-heart about what we mean to each other right now. That emotional conversation deserves my full attention. I’ve got a case to solve first.
“Of course,” Willow says. “I’m here when you’re ready.”
CHAPTER 37
I PULL MY F-150 into the driveway at Parker Longbaugh’s house. Parker’s Bronco is there, the back hatch open and packed with a few boxes and suitcases.
There’s no sign of Parker or his family, though.
They must be inside cleaning up.
The yard is torn up with tire ruts from all the vehicles packed onto the property last night. I’m sure the inside of the house looks ten times worse. The morning light is bright and blinding, and I squint my eyes as I approach the door. When there’s no answer, I peer through the screen door and see the house is in complete disarray. It’s as if someone just moved in, only instead of everything they own being contained in boxes, it’s been dumped out without any trace of organization.
“Anyone home?” I call through the screen.
I hear voices somewhere in the bowels of the house. I call again, louder, and this time I hear footsteps coming my way. I can tell from the sound that it’s Josie, not Parker. She comes into the kitchen, dragging a large suitcase. She sees me and she inhales sharply, an unmistakable expression of anger coming over her face. She collects herself and walks to the door with purpose. Her graying hair frames her face in unkempt tangles.
“Go away,” she says, her voice tired and hoarse.
“I came to apologize,” I say.
“I don’t want to hear it,” she says.
“I’ll handle this, Josie.”
The voice doesn’t come from inside the house. It comes from my right. Like before, Parker snuck up on me from around the back of the house.
“Get this Judas out of here, Parker!” Josie hisses, and she turns back into the house, where I can faintly hear one of the children crying.
Parker doesn’t step up on the porch this time. He waits for me to come down into the grass.
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I tell him.
I’m tempted to point out that he made mistakes as a Ranger, too—bring up the latest in the Cereal Killer investigation—but I don’t want to use his past to manipulate his emotions. This is about my screwup, not his.
“You’ve said it,” he tells me. “Now please go.”
He doesn’t seem angry, just tired—a man who’s had a rough night and wants nothing more than for me to leave him alone.
