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?
One for Fox Uno, in the name of Rodolfo Reynosa, and the other for a girl about Zita’s age, in the name of America Reynosa.
Deputy Reynosa had risked everything to save her family and help her uncle, and he’d been willing to sacrifice her, all of them, for next to nothing at all.
The price of a passport.
As Garrison talked, he held Morgan’s hand, and although she couldn’t cry anymore since her tear ducts had been so badly damaged, he knew she would if she could, but she was also smiling the whole time, too.
—
HE SAID IT WAS ALL OVER.
DEA couldn’t get rid of him now, not with the high-profile nature of Fox Uno’s arrest and his role in the Fox Uno debriefings, but eventually he would be moved aside, and then asked, politely, to put in his papers. And he was fine with that, because it was way past time and he was more than ready. There was nothing else he needed to do, and he sure in the hell wasn’t going back to Texas again.
Ever.
—
AFTER HE LEFT MORGAN IN HER COOL ROOM, he sat in his rental car down the street and undid his tie and cried all the tears she couldn’t.
Before he’d walked out, he put his badge, #5725, in her scarred hand, closed her fingers around it, and refused to take it back, no matter how hard she’d tried to hand it to him.
All these years, it had been so important. Maybe the most important thing, but he didn’t need it anymore.
It truly was over.
—
THE RENTAL CAR came with satellite radio, and he flipped around until he found a station that played those old soft-rock songs he liked. He had nothing but time to kill, since he wasn’t due back at the airport for four more hours.
For the first time in a long time, he had nowhere to go, nothing to do. That fire and darkness that had haunted him for so long, that had first taken shape in a field outside Murfee, Texas, had finally and forever slipped away.
An old Gerry Rafferty song came on, “Baker Street,” and he couldn’t help smiling—a refrain about the sun and brand-new mornings; about finally going home.
He had the rest of his life ahead of him, and no goddamn idea what to do with it.
And that was okay.
He wiped his eyes, feeling foolish, then turned that radio up as loud as it would go.
He was meeting Karen and the kids in Potomac. Angie was coming down from Juniata, and they were all going to drive down to Williamsburg together since Megan had a field hockey tournament, some sort of weekend invitational, and he’d promised to see it.
They were waiting for him.
He was going home.