Chapters (110)
- Cover
- ALSO BY J. TODD SCOTT
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- PROLOGUE
- I
- II
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- PART TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- PART THREE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- PART FOUR
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- EIGHTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- I
- II
- III
- IV
- V
- VI
- VII
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- Excerpt from LOST RIVER
- LITTLE PARIS
- DILLON
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Danny didn’t want to leave either, but he had miles to cover and an old friend to meet. He had to get on the road if he wanted to get back by first light.
The whole time, America and Fox Uno stayed up on the porch, watching them all.
—
HE GOT INTO VAN HORN just before dinner, before they turned on the twenty-five-foot-high neon sign for the historic Hotel El Capitan.
The hotel had been around since the 1930s. Originally a place for ranchers to gather and wheel and deal, the building was turned into the Van Horn State Bank during the 1970s; it was sold in 2007 and remodeled back into a hotel. During the renovations, secret rooms and passageways were allegedly found, including a Customs and Border Patrol holding cell somewhere in the basement. With its great central fountain in the courtyard, terra-cotta- and blue-tiled lobby, and assortment of animal heads staring down from the walls, the old hotel was a museum in this part of West Texas. It was named after one of the higher peaks in the state, a massive limestone edifice rising starkly out of the Chihuahuan Desert, over eight thousand feet high. El Capitan wasn’t easy to climb, due to the crumbly rock and the sheer nature of its flanks, but it was a popular bike ride out to the peak in the heart of Guadalupe Mountains National Park from the hotel that shared its name.
Beyond the hotel and the peak, there wasn’t much to Van Horn. A few chain restaurants and plenty of liquor stores, a Budget motel and a Presbyterian church and a Greyhound stop next to a Wendy’s. The Hotel El Capitan sat only two blocks off I-10, and when Danny checked into his room, which looked out over the fountain in the courtyard, he could hear the big eighteen-wheelers rolling up and down the freeway.
He lay down on the bed with the French doors open to wait, eyes open, letting all that traffic white out his other thoughts, as the sun worked its way behind Threemile and Fivemile mountains and cast looming shadows over the town . . .
—
ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, he got the call he was expecting from Staff Sergeant Gary West.
Danny met West down in the Gopher Hole Bar, where West had set them up with two cold bottles of Lone Star. When Danny walked up, West got off his stool and wrapped his arms around him.
“Goddamn good to see you, Danny. I knew you were a cop or something, but I didn’t realize you were working all the way down in the Big Bend. Jesus, brother, that’s way out there.”