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?
Although he’d been hot and miserable all day, seeing that van move slowly up the gravel drive had made him go cold. As good as it sounded to head back to Murfee and sit at Earlys with Vianey, he didn’t think he could leave his friends behind. He hadn’t joined the sheriff’s department to run and hide at the first sign of trouble.
The sort of trouble that had cost his brother his sight, and his family their home.
As he waited for the sheriff to pick up, he kicked on the truck’s engine.
Denbrow’s battered old truck didn’t have automatic lights, either, so Marco didn’t have to worry about shutting them off, as he turned down the gravel drive to follow the van up to the house.
SIXTY-FIVE
He was lying on his back, eyes closed, when the radio crackled to life.
It was the sheriff, telling him that Marco had finally seen a vehicle, possibly a van, pulling down the gravel drive.
Danny rolled over and got into a crouch, scanning. Directly to his north was the house itself, about twenty yards out. There wasn’t a proper driveway or even a garage, just some crushed gravel and weeds and ocotillo and yucca that served as something of a front lawn, and that’s where he’d positioned his Bronco. To the east was the sheriff’s truck, closest to the gravel drive that stretched back to the 19, which was flanked for its whole length by the occasional stunted mesquite and acacia. Behind and west of the house was a small prefab storage shed that Danny could see the leading edge of, and beyond that was scrub and cat’s claw and sotol and prickly pear and more yucca all the way to the mountains and the horizon beyond. The sun was also heading west, and his Bronco and the sheriff’s truck cast their own long shadows on the ground.
That meant he was a shadow, too, almost invisible behind the smoky plastic of the camper shell. He could see out well enough, at least until he lost the sun at his back. West had thoughtfully included an AN-PVS-22 clip-on night sight that Danny had already tested, but if it got too dark, if things dragged on a little too long, the few tactical advantages Danny had wouldn’t mean much. He’d lose control of his battlefield.
He had to make sure this ended fast.