Page 91 of Cowboy Heat

She has the vehicle started before I get in.

The smell of musk and mildew invade my senses. I look around to find that the inside of the SUV has been trashed. Cigarette butts, empty beer cans, and fast-food wrappers litter the floorboards in both the front and back. I open the glove compartment. There’s nothing inside but a tire pressure gauge, an empty plastic bag, and a pocket-sized state map of Louisiana.

I shut it as Kissy hits the gas hard.

“Where are we going?” I ask.

There’s no denying that Kissy is keyed up. But as far as I can see, she doesn’t look any worse for the wear physically than the last time I saw her. Dirt and sweat, yeah, but running through the woods will do that to a person.

“Lee said to go somewhere safe but unexpected,” she says.

“You called him?”

She nods. No elaboration from a woman who seems to thrive on it in any other situation.

“He said we needed help and asked me if there was anyone I trusted in law enforcement around here. Anyone I’d take a chance on. I told him Detective Wayland. Andhesaid he’d look into her and if she passed his check, he’d call her and get to explaining our situation. Send someone to the Fulton house to deal with-deal with it.”

Her eyes stay firm to the road ahead of the windshield as she talks. Not one iota of focus going to the house disappearing in the rearview.

“So he wants us to hide until he has it figured out,” I guess.

Kissy makes a face.

“But you want to do something else,” I go, two for two.

She nods again.

“I want to go to the cemetery and look into that grave,” she hurries. “What if we can’t trust Detective Wayland? What if the sheriff and her and the entire department are in on whatever this is and whatever or whoever is in that grave disappears before we can know?” Her hair bounces everywhere as she shakes her head at the thought. “We went to the cemetery looking for potential insight into Guidry’s mind, right? What if that grave isn’t just a lead but the answers we need? I don’t want to go hide and have to hope that Detective Wayland finds it first and then also trusts us. I want to know now. Right now.”

I don’t think Kissy is about to cry, but I can hear the chaotic energy building at every new thought. She’s being pulled taut.

She’s right though.

“I agree,” I say. “Those guys either know what’s in the grave and want to keep us away or they also have no idea what’s in there but want to know. Either way, I rather we figure it out before anyone else comes calling.”

Kissy lets out a breath.

She smiles.

That smile dies quickly.

“What about you though? Do I need to take you to the hospital instead? Your health isn’t worth all of this.”

I’m touched by the sentiment.

Mainly because I believe she means it.

“I’m fine. Or will be.” I’ve already looked at the cut under my shirt. I actually did it before passing out. “The cut is shallow, and well, it’s not the first time I’ve passed out like that after overexerting myself. It happened once a few months ago after my leg surgery when I was at the gym. I also haven’t been sleeping that great, so I think it was a combination party foul.” I feel the weight of the gun in my hand. I soften. “I’m sorry I left you alone.”

Kissy surprises me.

“You didn’t leave me alone,” she says. “You gave me a phone and a Lee. Believe me, that meant a lot.”

I think this is where it happens.

This is where Kissy Lawson becomes a different kind of woman to me.

I don’t know what that means specifically, but like she says of Lee’s connection, it means a lot.