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?
“No, you said it exactly because you meant it. I get it, I do, and that’s the one thing you are damn right about. It didn’t turn out well for anyone. What a goddamn mess.” Garrison pointed his beer bottle at Chris. “And we’re never going to escape it, you and I . . . ever. I don’t know how, and I’m not sure I even want to anymore. It defines us. There is no ‘us’ without it.” Garrison paused, took a breath. “But to answer your question, Morgan’s doing okay. She’s still back home, with family. It’s where she should be.”
Chris let a long silence settle, let the sparks between them blow out before he said something to flare them again. He wanted to rewind the conversation a few minutes . . . a few years. “Anyway, there’s already history between Johnnie Machado and Danny. They had some sort of run-in at one point, up in Crockett. I don’t know the details. Danny’s had run-ins with all sorts of people. He’s got one damn gear, full-speed ahead, whether people get out of his way or not. I can ask him about it if you want, but I won’t have him tangling with this Tejas unit.”
“Forget it, I’ll let it go. But that wasn’t the only reason I wanted to talk to you.”
Chris sighed, and then despite what he’d decided only moments ago, got himself the last beer out of the bucket. He opened it and steeled himself with a long drink.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. I didn’t think so at all . . .”
NINE
Danny watched her sleep.
The slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her chest.
Her gently closed eyes.
It seemed like right now, sleeping was the only time she was ever truly peaceful, relaxed.
Dreaming?
There was always far too much going on behind those eyes when they were open.
And he had no idea what was going on behind them when they were closed, either.
—
DANNY GOT UP QUIETLY from the couch, so as to not wake Amé, and went to get himself a beer out of her fridge. She’d finally come in a while ago, muddy and exhausted from the nearly forty-eight hours straight she’d been awake and working. He hadn’t seen her at all during the day, since she’d been at the autopsies at Hancock Hill and he’d been dealing with Eddy’s initial appearance and the drunken altercation at Mancha’s.
There was still plenty more work to be done at Eddy’s trailer, but at least the bodies were gone, and the rest of it could take its time.