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?
He adjusted the radio earpiece and the mic clipped to his BDUs. He’d folded the rifle’s stock to accommodate the small space he had to work in, but now he shouldered the M110 and used its high-powered scope like the spare pair of binoculars he’d brought along. He saw the whole world through a tunnel, things both close and far away at the same time. The scope gave the scene a certain unreal quality, a weird chrome sheen, as if he were looking at a movie.
As if the sheriff’s truck and the yucca were shiny props and the house itself were cardboard, easily pushed down with a hand.
The same hand that had been crushing him all afternoon, that was tightening more now.
A house that held people he cared about.
He took a breath, as deep as he could, and forced his hands to stop shaking.
His bad eye was bouncing up and down so he closed it. Working the scope, he didn’t need it anyway.
He waited for the van to show itself.
SIXTY-SIX
They’re here,” Chris said, as the van rolled to a stop. It hadn’t pulled past his own truck, so there was some ground to cover between it and the house.
Too much ground.
Amé was at his side, with Fox Uno behind her. They were all watching the van idling in the gravel. It was an old Ford Aerostar, the color of pencil lead, rust and primer spotting the wheel wells.
No one got out.
Chris checked in on the handheld with Danny, who confirmed he had eyes on the van as well, and had seen no movement, either.
“Okay, I’m going out there. Let’s see who showed up.”
“No, let me,” Amé said. “I will do it.”
“No, you’re staying back here, covering me.”
Her eyes went hard, reflecting her frustration. She clearly hadn’t expected Chris to do this alone. “I have to do this. You won’t understand what they’re saying.”
Chris smiled. “I will if they talk slow enough. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m going to have him right next to me.” He pointed at Fox Uno. “He can translate.” He left the Remington leaning against the door frame, but shouldered his A5, aiming it squarely at Fox Uno, using it to gesture toward the door. “Let’s go meet your men and get my deputy’s mother.”
Amé stepped in front of him, desperate. “No, por favor, let me do this . . .”
Danny’s voice cut in over the radio: “I got the driver’s-side door open and one out. Just one . . .”
Chris glanced back through the window, where he also could see the van’s door now open, and someone standing there. He turned back to Amé. “It’s going to be okay. This is what you wanted. Freedom, right? I’m going to make sure you get that, that we all do.”