Джеймс Паттерсон - Texas Outlaw

Ariana says thanks and backs the truck out of the driveway, leaving Jessica with a confused look on her face. She races over to the paper. She wonders for a moment if she should park behind the building. There’s no parking lot back there, just a sagebrush-filled area. The truck would be better hidden but not completely out of sight. She opts for the parking lot in plain sight. McCormack has a dozen of these trucks. She hopes it won’t raise any suspicions.

She goes to the front door and finds it locked. There’s no receptionist in the lobby. It’s too early.

She pounds on the door as hard as she can, trying to make enough noise that Tom might hear it from his office. Twenty seconds later, he comes out from the newsroom. His expression changes from irritation to alarm when he sees Ariana.

“Ariana,” he says, swinging the door open. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

Ariana smiles and says, “Are you ready to win the Pulitzer Prize?”

Chapter 97

THE ENTIRE NEWSROOM is empty, but Tom closes the door to his office anyway. He has a few employees who show up early on deadline days, and he wants to ensure that his and Ariana’s conversation remains private.

“Tell me everything,” he says. “Start from the beginning.”

She does. It’s an elaborate story, and it’s taking longer to tell than she’d like, but she wants Tom to understand each detail. He needs to be able to convince the Rangers in Waco of everything that’s happened, convince them not to trust the Rio Lobo police chief. Plus, Tom needs to keep her name out of it, because if the Rangers think this info came from Ariana Delgado, wanted fugitive, they’ll discount it all and simply come after her. The more solid information Tom can convey, including about Lieutenant Hendricks’s death, the more likely it is the Texas Rangers as well as the federal agencies will rush into Rio Lobo. Even if Rory doesn’t survive—which she doesn’t want to think about—the drug ring will be exposed.

“Okay, I think I got it all,” Tom says as he looks over his notes.

Then he and Ariana hear something.

Footsteps.

They look through the window of the office door and see Chief Harris standing outside the window, gun drawn. One of his patrol officers, Hank Humphreys, is with him.

Ariana rises in a protective stance, but she has no weapon. She left the rifle in the truck. She didn’t want to make Tom feel uneasy.

Speaking of the truck, she curses her stupidity for not parking it out back. Rory wouldn’t be so eager to invite her into the Texas Rangers if he saw her now, she thinks.

Harris could easily open the door—it’s not locked—but he opts for a more dramatic entrance. He slams the butt of his gun against the glass, exploding shards into the office. Then he steps back and kicks the door at its handle. The wood around the latch splinters, and the door bangs open, knocking more glass down onto the carpet.

Tom Aaron tries to get in front of Ariana, but she holds him back with her arm so they stand side by side.

“This is outrageous,” Tom shouts. “You have no authority to walk in here and—”

Harris slams the butt of his pistol against Tom’s nose, sending him flying backward onto the floor.

“Here’s my authority, you son of a bitch.”

Ariana moves to intervene but freezes when she sees Humphreys’s pistol pointing at her chest. Harris grabs Ariana by the hair and yanks her head back. He places the barrel of the pistol under her chin.

“You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you?”

“You’re a disgrace to that badge,” Ariana says.

Harris throws her into a corner and tells her to put her hands against the wall. He places the gun in the small of her back and begins searching her. His hand lingers on places she doesn’t want him to touch.

Humphreys grabs Tom and pulls him to his feet. His nose is clearly broken. Blood cascades over his mouth and chin. He blinks back tears and looks woozy.

Humphreys shoves him over the desk and cuffs his hands behind his back. Tom’s face is pressed against his notebook, blood dripping onto the pages. Harris picks up the notebook, glances at the notes, and flips it closed. He shoves it into his back pocket.

“What’s wrong, Chief?” Ariana says. “Don’t like what you see there?”

“This is a violation of the First Amendment,” Tom says, his voice nasal and hoarse. “My lawyer—”

Harris pulls his gun back and jams the barrel against Tom’s nose. Tom winces in pain and turns away from the barrel.

“You can take your lawyer—and your First Amendment—and shove them up your ass.”

Ariana thinks of what Rory might say in this situation.

“It’s not too late to come out on the right side of this, Chief.”

Harris grabs her by the hair again and shoves her against the wall. He leans his body against her and places the gun against her lower back. His mouth is by her ear. She can smell the coffee on his breath.

“Keep talking and I’ll smash that pretty face of yours,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Ariana doesn’t respond. She knows that won’t get her anywhere.

Harris looks at Humphreys and says, “Take Tom to the station and wait to hear from me. Lock him up. Don’t let him make a phone call. Not to his lawyer. Not to his wife.”

“What about Ariana?” Humphreys says, pulling Tom by his cuffed wrists.

“The Rio Lobo Police Department is about to have an opening for a detective,” Harris says. “If you want the job, shut your goddamn mouth and don’t ask any more stupid questions.”

Chapter 98

I TRY TO stay hidden, but I position myself to watch McCormack’s ranch through the scope of the .223 M4. The telescopic sight doesn’t have the magnification Gareth’s M24 does, so I can’t see much. But I see enough.

A trio of ATVs peels off from the house and heads in the direction of the open space. No doubt going to look for Ariana. One of my reasons for making up the story was so they might do that. That’s six fewer of McCormack’s soldiers I have to worry about right now.

I’m beginning to wonder if Gareth isn’t going to come out here after all. If he doesn’t climb up on the tower, I’ve already decided I will climb down and walk over to the ranch.

We’ll have that showdown.

It will be suicide, of course.

Even if I shoot Gareth in an honest-to-God duel, there’s no way Carson McCormack will stick to his word. His men will gun me down within seconds.

But I’ll do it.

As long as he doesn’t double-cross me, I won’t double-cross him. That’s just the way I was raised.

When I’m almost convinced he’s not coming, I spot a figure leaving the ranch house and heading this way on foot. I focus the sight. The person is Gareth, and he has his sniper rifle slung over his shoulder and his SIG Sauer holstered at his hip. He’s dressed in black clothes, no doubt so he can stay hidden atop the derrick, where I’m hiding now.

The platform is a square with a hole in the middle. To one side of me is the metal mesh railing, which will keep me from rolling off. But in the center, where the drilling equipment would be if the derrick was operational, there is nothing but a straight drop to the ground.

I lie flat on my back to stay out of sight. I keep the rifle at my side. I don’t pull my pistol out of its holster.

Not yet.

I don’t want my hands to sweat on the grip.

Gareth has half a mile to walk. I try to calm my nerves, slow my breathing. I stare at the sky—blue from horizon to horizon without a single cloud.

I think of Willow.

I think of Ariana.

I think of my father telling me, A Texas Ranger is justice .

When Gareth gets close, I can make out the sound of his pants moving through the overgrown weeds. When he’s below, I hear the crackle of a walkie-talkie.