Джеймс Паттерсон - Texas Outlaw

My stomach cramps worsen. I try to urinate but can’t. My skin is clammy with sweat. I cup water in my hands and notice how inflamed the rash on my fingers has become. I splash the water on my face and look at my pale reflection in the mirror. My pupils are gigantic, black pools nearly as big as the irises that encircle them.

This isn’t right.

Something is wrong.

I yank open the door of the bathroom and charge out. I freeze in my tracks. Willow is unconscious, still sitting upright, but with her head slumped down to where her chin is practically resting on the jersey. Her bare legs are splayed out, her hands dangling limp at her sides. She looks like a passed-out drunk who, at any second, will fall out of her chair.

Jessica stands next to her, aiming my own SIG Sauer directly at my chest.

The safe she asked me to lock the gun in sits in the cabinet with its door wide open.

Chapter 108

ARIANA PULLS HER Harley Davidson into the parking lot next to the police station. Normally there are plenty of spaces, but now, with the lot full of vehicles from various law enforcement agencies, there’s nowhere to park a car.

Luckily, Ariana only drives a car when it rains.

She squeezes her motorcycle onto the sidewalk near the door, shuts off the engine, and saunters into the station. The place is already bustling with various officials from various agencies. She expects to see Rory but doesn’t. For a moment, she’s glad that he’s getting some extra rest. Then she pictures him having an early-morning make-out session with his gorgeous country-star girlfriend, and she feels a little sick to her stomach. She tells herself to put the thought out of her head and focus on the work in front of her.

As she passes the front desk, Liz, the dispatcher, says to whoever she is on the phone with that she’ll check to see if Detective Delgado is available. She puts the caller on hold and looks up at Ariana.

“A guy named Freddy Hernandez is on the phone,” she says. “Says he’s the medical examiner from Waco and he’s been trying to get ahold of Rory.”

Ariana almost says to tell him to call back in an hour. She doesn’t want Rory to think she’s poaching information from his sources. But Rory wouldn’t think that. She would trust him to take such a call meant for her—he would do the same, wouldn’t he?

They’re a team.

“I’ll talk to him,” Ariana says.

“I’ll transfer it to the chief’s office,” Liz says, giving Ariana a look that says, You’re the chief now. Even though you don’t have the title yet, you’re in charge .

Ariana nods, touched by Liz’s unspoken endorsement, and she walks into Harris’s old office. It feels strange to be in here knowing the chief is in jail.

Ariana picks up the phone.

“I’ve been trying to get in touch with Rory since yesterday,” the medical examiner—and also Rory’s childhood friend—says through the phone. “My calls keep going to voicemail.”

She says that Rory will be in soon, but if Freddy has information, he can tell her and she’ll pass it along. There is quiet on the other end of the line, and she gets the feeling that Freddy doesn’t want to talk to anyone but Rory.

“I can just have Rory give you a call when he gets in,” Ariana says, ready to hang up.

“Wait,” Freddy says, as if fearing that his message will get lost. “This is important. Rory asked me to have a second look at the blood samples from Susan Snyder. I think I’ve figured out what killed her.”

Ariana’s heart pounds, as if the organ is suddenly pushing twice as much blood with each beat.

Freddy begins talking scientifically about the blood containing evidence of tropane alkaloids—whatever those are—and how this caused him to do some further investigation. Most of what he is saying is over her head, mentioning secondary metabolites and bicyclic alkaloids. Ariana interrupts him.

“Freddy,” she says, “you can explain all the science stuff later. Cut to the chase, please.”

“I think Susan Snyder was poisoned by a plant called belladonna,” Freddy says. “Also known as deadly nightshade.”

Chapter 109

“STAY RIGHT WHERE you are,” Jessica says.

I’m not sure I could move if I wanted to. The cramping in my stomach seems to be spreading, and now the muscles in my legs are tightening. I don’t think I can take another step forward, let alone try to rush Jessica and wrestle the gun away from her.

The sunlight is gushing in the window, and I have to squint to protect my wide-open irises. Jessica’s face is in extreme focus, but everything else around her is blurry.

“You killed Susan Snyder?” I say, my words slurred.

She nods. Her demeanor has changed from the starstruck fan she was pretending to be a few minutes ago, but she still has a half smile on her face, as if she’s enjoying this.

“Why?” I ask.

“For Tom, of course.” She says it as if the answer is obvious. “It’s the twenty-first century. Journalism is dead. That newspaper would have folded ten times over if it wasn’t for Carson supporting it.”

I squint, trying to make sense of what I’m hearing. Tom never said anything like that.

“Oh, Tom doesn’t know,” Jessica says. “Carson bought advertising through intermediaries. Lots of businesses in town put ads in the paper. Carson was the one actually paying for them.”

I remember what Norma at the motel said about how Rio Lobo would crumble up and blow away if it wasn’t for McCormack subsidizing most of the businesses one way or another. Still, I’m having trouble making sense of all this. If McCormack’s been subsidizing the paper for years, did Jessica owe him? When he called to collect, was the murder of Susan Snyder the price she had to pay?

Jessica answers my question without being asked. She explains that she and Carson go way back, all the way to high school, and that they’ve been doing each other favors for years.

“I helped him out once a long time ago,” she says. “And since then he’s helped me keep Tom’s business afloat. Taking care of Susan was the first favor he’d asked for in a long time. And since I’d done something like that before…” She trails off.

I’m having trouble focusing my thoughts. I feel like a drunk who’s trying to solve a puzzle that he’s sure he could do easily if he was just able to sober up.

Then it hits me.

“Carson McCormack’s wife,” I say. “You killed her?”

She smiles. “When people didn’t get on board with what Carson was doing, sometimes he could make them disappear. But other times it was best if it looked like an accident.”

My legs are incredibly weak, but the pain from the cramping has subsided. Replacing the pain is a numbness spreading throughout my body.

I try to take a step forward, but instead I drop to my knees on the carpet.

I feel like I’ve been given a sedative, and no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to keep unconsciousness at bay.

“You won’t get away with it this time,” I say. “No one will believe that Willow and I both died of natural causes.”

“Oh, you’re not going to die from what I put in your food,” Jessica says. “I’m going to shoot you.” She gestures to Willow, whose unconscious mouth is drooling onto my jersey. “Then I’ll shoot her and put the gun in her hand. Murder-suicide.”

“No one will buy it.”

She laughs. “Everyone in town thinks you’re fucking Ariana Delgado,” she says. “Willow even has a song on the radio about how girls shouldn’t date a Texas Ranger. People will think she finally had enough and snapped. Everyone will believe it.”

Chapter 110

ARIANA STANDS IN the middle of Harris’s old office with the phone pressed to her ear, her heart racing. She knew Susan was murdered. Just knew it in her gut.