“Hold on.” He threw the cruiser in drive and headed for the mesquite trees in front of us.
“Hey!” I covered my eyes.
A screeching sound of metal against bark filled my ears like King Kong running his fingernails down a giant chalkboard. Then we propelled out of the shoot like a bull at a rodeo, barreling through the grass, dodging large rocks and clumps of cacti until finally pitching down a shallow gulley and coming up onto the main road. He hit the siren for real this time, cut off the line of cars, whipped around the slow-moving traffic, and finally careened onto the gravel on the shoulder.
“We’re going to blow a tire!” I clung to the back of the front seat like a tick to a deer.
Riveted on the road, he said, “Any sign of the Prius?”
I craned my neck, searching in all directions. “No, it’s pitch-black on either side.”
His eyes narrowed. His hands gripped the steering wheel until I thought his bones would pierce his skin. “Hold on!” He spun the wheel to the right and gunned it down a red clay road I hadn’t even seen until we’d made the turn.
“Where does this go?”
“Tommy’s Pond.”
Named for the actor who’d once lived outside of Broken Boot, Tommy’s Catfish Canal was a failed effort to build up the local economy. Oh, catfish and minnows still called it home, but the owner filed for bankruptcy and never came back. Locals still fished there, but they were taking their health in their hands. In the heat, algae levels would rise, making everything in the pond toxic. Or so I heard.
“What makes you think they went this way?”
He shot me a glance. “He flattened a clusterberry when he took the turn.”
“What clusterberry?”
“Never mind.”
The road to Tommy’s Catfish Canal was as dark as the Marfa Lights pavilion on a Monday night. Stars shimmered in the sky, vibrating with a sound I could almost hear.
“If you’re not so sure Frank Fillmore did this thing, why are you after him?”
He shot me a look of disbelief. “He’s got Lenny, right?”
“True.” Lenny wasn’t best buds with Lightfoot—not like Ryan. Lightfoot’s tribal bracelet glimmered in the light from the cruiser’s dash.
We were silent for a while and then he glanced my way. “He’ll be okay.”
Or Frank might kill him, the same way he’d murdered Lucky. I grasped for something to keep my fears at bay. “Those symbols on your bracelet . . . what do they mean?”
He hesitated so long, I thought I’d only imagined speaking the words.
“They are symbols of purity.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. Had he taken a vow of chastity? Why did I care?
He studied my face. “It means my spirit is clean.”
“Oh?”
“What did you think I meant?”
“Uh—”
“Shh.”
Up ahead a split rail fence went off to the left and right sides of the road. There was no gate. Hinges, but no gate. Not anymore. A sign remained on the fence post to the right of the dirt road we traveled. NO TRESPASSING. FISH AT YOUR OWN RISK.
The headlights caught a metal building and a porta-potty off to the right. Lightfoot slammed on his brakes. What I’d thought was grass was actually the pond. I gulped. If I’d been driving we’d have driven straight into it. But then again, I’m always a much better driver behind the wheel.
“No Prius,” I said. “Careful turning around. Don’t get us stuck in the mud.”
He turned off the engine, killed the lights, and pointed with his right hand. His bracelet and wrist caught my eye. What was it about a man’s wrist that made me pause?
“Over there, Callahan.”
“Oh, my great-aunt Sammie.” The hood of the Prius peeked out from behind the metal building as if watching for us to arrive.
“Don’t touch that door. He may be armed.”
“Even if he had a knife. What’s he going to do? Throw it at us?”
Lightfoot glared.
“So he’s not a knife thrower in the circus. Maybe he was a SEAL or someone trained in hand-to-hand combat.”
“Did he strike you as a SEAL?” I was struck by his tone of voice. Lightfoot was actually being sarcastic.
“Now that you mention it . . . no.” Why would a man trained to kill other men use electronic shenanigans to kill someone? “He could have killed Lucky with electricity just to throw us off. Maybe he used stun guns and electricity to torture prisoners of war.”
“Shh.”
A coyote howl floated through the air, lone and spine-tingling.
“Lenny’s out there.” My hand flew to the door handle.
“No.” He grabbed my arm and held me tight. “Wait for Fillmore to make the first move.”
I counted to ten, forcing my pulse to slow. “Not a talent I’m known for.”
His eyes narrowed, he scanned the area in silence.
“Unencumbered was the word I think you used.” My eyes were focused on the Prius, the metal building, and the surrounding area, but my mind was still curious.
“Shh.” He dropped my arm.
“You might as well tell me,” I whispered. “I’m going to keep asking.”
“Why am I not surprised?” He paused, his eyes never leaving the scene before us. “I told you. I broke up with my lady.”
I grinned. “You mean your girlfriend.”
“Why people insist on using that term, I don’t know. She is neither a girl or a friend.”
“But she was your . . . special lady?” I wanted to giggle with relief.
“Yes.”
“Ah.”
Lightfoot leaned forward and I followed his gaze. At the corner of the metal building, a figure appeared at the far side of the Prius.
“Do you see what I see?” A new surge of adrenaline poured through my veins.
“Stay here.”
“No—”
“It’s not a request.” He turned the full force of those eyes on me. “Do you understand me?”
I nodded. “Stay here.”
“And I want you to get down so he can’t see you.”
“I could help.”
“You could get yourself kidnapped again.”
“Right.” He had a point. Things could go sideways.
“And for pity’s sake don’t put a dent in her. She’s brand-new.”
“Um, how will I know what’s going on?” There was a bright utility light shining
