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 understood then why the van had seemed so familiar. He’d seen it around Murfee all the time, most often parked at the little Mexican store, La Tienda.
Who the hell are these people?
Chris ordered Amé back again, screaming, begging—pleading with her just to get to the cover and safety of the damn house.
But not before the satchel in Xavier’s hand, the one he had been carrying delicately from the very beginning, turned red and then white and then blossomed . . .
And blew him to pieces.
SIXTY-NINE
TWENTY SECONDS BEFORE THE EXPLOSION . . .
Eddy didn’t think his message had worked.
He could see the young guy with the red shirt and the bag who’d come out of the van, as well as the sheriff and an old man who he guessed was the reason for all this shit. They were all kind of milling around in the yard, talking.
He could also see that female deputy, America Reynosa, coming up behind them from the house itself.
She was moving slow, then faster, a shotgun in her hand.
Everyone was in motion, circling each other.
But Danny Ford was nowhere to be seen, and Eddy had a hard time believing that the same deputy who’d chased him through his trailer wouldn’t be right in the middle of whatever the hell was going on over there right now.
Johnnie and his boys were moving now, too, raising their own guns and drawing a bead on everyone standing outside.
Badges swinging, catching the last of the light.
No one up by the house knew they were there.
Now they were shooting and Eddy could hear the whip-crack of their rifles, each one a heartbeat late.
For the moment, crouched out of the way, he’d been forgotten.
He looked back the way he’d come, into that last light. This was his chance to run.
But then that radio station in Eddy’s head suddenly got a good, strong signal—his Spidey sense firing away—and he remembered those weird circles cut into the camper shell of Danny’s Bronco.
A Bronco just sitting there in the middle of everything . . . ignored.
A hunting blind.
Another kind of trap.
Danny was right in the goddamn thick of it, like Eddy knew he would be.
One foot in front of the other . . . one foot in front of the other . . .
Eddy Rabbit took a deep breath and started running . . .
SEVENTY
TWELVE SECONDS BEFORE . . .
Danny was trying to pay attention to what was going on outside the Bronco, but his phone inside kept buzzing.
He thought it was Marco, maybe warning him about a second vehicle, but he didn’t want to take the time to look down at it.
He had the man in the red shirt scoped, and although he didn’t have a good angle on the opposite side of the van, he could tell by everyone’s reaction that something was happening over there.