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?
“Sorry to interrupt breakfast, gentlemen,” Chris said. He nodded at Bethel. “Bethel, hope you’re well. The signs everywhere look great, by the way. I also like that text message thing you’ve been putting out, ‘It’s OUR Big Bend,’ though some folks might take that as almost racist, or at least not very welcoming. I could be wrong about that. I hope I am.”
Bethel shook his head, running a hand over his brush cut. “Sorry, Sheriff, it’s just politics. You know.”
“No, it’s fine, Bethel. It really is. I’m not here about politics anyway. I’m here for Mr. Moody, for business. While being the sheriff is still my job.”
Royal looked up from his coffee. “We’ll catch up later, Bethel. I guess the sheriff and I have some stuff to attend to.” Bethel stood awkwardly for a few more seconds, then turned his hat in his hands a few times and headed for the door.
Royal pointed his mug at the seat Bethel had vacated. “I assume you want to sit down? You know you could have called, made an appointment.”
“I tried. You weren’t answering. This won’t take long, Royal, I promise.” Chris slid into the booth opposite from the district attorney.
“You want some coffee?” Royal asked. “I’m buying.”
—
CHRIS OPENED A COPY of The Murfee Daily he’d brought with him and handed it over to Royal, who took it without comment. He pulled bifocals out of his breast pocket and scanned the articles. He took his time, as if he hadn’t already read the paper that morning. Chris knew he had copies shipped to both of his offices and probably his home, too.
“I take it you don’t like the editorial?” he said, putting the paper aside. “If that’s what you’re here asking about, I had nothing to do with that.” He took a slow sip of coffee before adding, “Although I can’t say I honestly disagree with much of it.”
“No, Royal, not the goddamn editorial. I don’t care about that. It’s the story across from it, about Eddy Rabbit and the bodies down on the river. The one continued from the front page, above the fold. I’d asked the paper to hold that story for another day or so.”
“I don’t work at the paper, Sheriff.”
“Yes, but the facts they printed are very specific. Some of them sound like they came right out of Deputy Ford’s complaint. They also mention the DPS forensics team, which was definitely not part of that complaint.”
“Come now, Chris, no matter how large the Big Bend is, Murfee is still one-hundred-percent small town. Danny’s complaint was sealed. The rest of that stuff probably came from your own deputies. Trust me, they all talk. How long did you think you were going to keep those five deaths a secret? And really, to what end?”