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?
“Yes, he is. He’s outspending me, what, three to one, at least? I’ve got some support from some of the ranchers, they’ve been generous . . . and . . . well, it is what it is. We have a debate next week, sponsored by The Murfee Daily, the Big Bend County Junior College Criminal Justice Student Association, and something called the Big Bend Crime Watch Group. We’re holding the debate here, at my old high school. You should come back for that. It’ll be fun.”
“I take it this so-called crime watch group is not your biggest fan?”
“I took over for a man who was revered in the Big Bend under bloody circumstances that remain, at best, suspicious. In the past year, a decent chunk of Murfee burned down and two of my deputies were killed on my watch. I’d say there are some legitimate concerns.”
Chris gathered up the bucket with melting ice and empty beer bottles. It was still cold and heavy in his hand. “Hell, would you vote for me?”
Garrison didn’t respond, his long silence answer enough. As much as the agent angered him, Garrison was right. They’d always be bound together by what had happened with Sheriff Ross. It gave their relationship fierce, sharp edges, making it at times nearly impossible to hold, but neither was ready or willing to let it go.
Garrison finally said, “Chris, you have done some good here. No matter what happens with the election, try to remember that. And try to take care of that family of yours. Melissa and Jack are beautiful. Even if the Big Bend doesn’t need you, they do. They always will.”
Garrison extended a hand, and after an uncertain pause, Chris reached out and shook it. He didn’t agree with him, but he did respect him. “I appreciate that. I do. And I’ll try. Speaking of family, you said that you were back east? Were you visiting your daughters, maybe catching one of those field hockey games?”
Garrison shook his head as he stepped off the porch. Chris thought that, if it was possible, he’d aged even more since he’d come up to them only a few hours earlier. Garrison paused at the bottom, tossing his keys up and down. His expression was a map without any landmarks, featureless. Barren.
“No, I wasn’t. I was visiting Morgan Emerson. That’s all.”
ELEVEN
Danny was afraid he’d been dreaming again, as he woke up fast to a small sound.
Something soft, secretive, coming from the front door.
Fortunately, Amé was already awake, her gun in her hand.
—
THE DREAM HAD BEEN FULL of dead men.
You never forgot the smell of a fresh corpse.
Each one had been chanting Danny’s name in Ashkun, and he was back in that small village of Rumnar, in Nuristan Province.
“Nuristan” meant Land of the Enlightened.