“He’ll stand trial,” Jordan said.

“You don’t believe that any more than I do. There won’t be justice until Walker is dead. And I hope I’m there to see him draw his last breath.”

“You don’t mean that, Pete,” Mrs. Sanchez said. “He’s upset, Detective.”

“I know. But you must let the police handle this.”

Mr. Sanchez turned, got into the car, and started the engine.

“Will there really be justice for Elena?” Mrs. Sanchez asked.

“I hope so,” Jordan said.

When they pulled away, she squared her shoulders. She understood wanting justice for a loved one. Walker had gotten away with hurting Avery, and with the Mexican border only 220 miles from Austin, he could easily be in the wind by tomorrow.

“He’s not going to run.” A man’s deep voice was directly behind her.

Turning, she recognized the man from the courtroom, and he was now wearing his white Texas Rangers hat and mirrored aviator sunglasses. “And you are?”

“Ranger Carter Spencer.”

“Detective Jordan Poe.” As they shook hands, she noted his palms were rough, his grip strong. “How can you be sure he won’t run, Ranger Spencer?”

“I’ve charges of my own pending. They’ll be filed within forty-eight hours.”

“Well, Ranger Spencer, I hope your charges will keep him behind bars. Left on his own, it’s a matter of time before someone like Elena Sanchez dies again.”

“He’ll stand trial for her death.”

She thought about the crime scene pictures the investigating officer had shown her of Elena Sanchez’s body lying beside the hearth. Elena had been a pretty woman and looked as if she had been in good health. But Walker preferred finding the young, healthy ones and introducing them to drugs. He had lured Avery onto that same dark path, and her sister was simply lucky. If Jordan had been five minutes later . . .

“Do me a favor and put Marco Walker away for a long time,” she said.

“I will.”

“We haven’t crossed paths before,” she said.

“Been in El Paso and Houston. Moved back to Austin two years ago.”

“How’s that going for you?” Spencer was a good-looking man. No wedding band. And if not for this terrible timing, she might have knocked the rust off her limited flirting skills.

“I grew up here.”

“Changed some in the last few years, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, it has.”

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. She reached for it and saw her boss’s name. “I’ve got to take this.”

“Sure.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Good to meet you, Detective Poe.”

“Same to you, Ranger Spencer.” She was already raising the phone to her ear as she turned. “Captain Lee, what can I do for you?”

“There’s a body.”