But it wasn’t a message or text from Sheriff Cherry, instead it was Vianey Ruiz. She and Marco had started talking some, texting even more, since the debate. She’d sat next to him during the sheriff’s bizarre performance—a performance that had all but guaranteed he’d no longer be wearing a badge two weeks from now—and although Marco still hadn’t asked her out, he was getting closer.

A lot closer.

She was texting now to find out if he was stopping by Earlys later tonight—the first time she’d ever asked him that—and even though he was thrilled, he didn’t know what to say. He had no idea how much longer he was going to be out here, and he still needed to go home and check on Emiliano.

He wanted her to know he wanted to come by, but he couldn’t exactly explain what the hell he was doing.

He was still looking down at his phone, smiling to himself and working out different responses in his head, when a van came rolling slowly down the 19.

It didn’t come up behind him, like Danny’s Bronco, otherwise he would have heard it before he saw it. Instead, it was in front of him, turning into the gravel drive that led back to the Far Six. It was a basic passenger van, nondescript, gray in color, and although it wasn’t dark enough for headlights yet, most modern vehicles with automatic lights would have already had them triggered by the coming dusk.

This van’s lights were out, though, so Marco didn’t even see those reflected in his windshield.

He almost never saw it at all.

It was there and then gone again, disappearing behind some mesquite trees. He caught a flash of it farther down the gravel drive, and then lost it for good behind the cloud of dust it had churned up in its wake.

He had no idea who was in the van and could barely describe the vehicle itself. He’d glimpsed it for only a few seconds, but whoever was behind the wheel probably also hadn’t gotten a clear look at Denbrow’s truck pulled over in the arroyo, either.

He abandoned Vianey’s text and instead started dialing the sheriff. He was mad at himself, but at least he hadn’t completely fucked up.

At least he hadn’t been asleep.

And he did catch the van . . . hopefully in plenty of time to warn the rest of them at the ranch. That was his only job, but after all the long hours, he wanted to do more. He hadn’t sat out here forever to make one phone call and turn around and drive home.

No matter what the sheriff and Danny had said.