Page 59 of For Cowgirls and Kings

“Mr. Reyes?—”

“Mateo. Phil, let’s cut the shit.” I shift in the plastic chair beneath me, only now realizing I’ve sat so still the last fifty minutes my muscles ache. I ignore the throb in my back—and my head—and pin the scrawny, forty-something year old man with a red mustache that looks closer to a tomato soup stain than hair, with a glare.

“Mateo,” he states dryly, slumping into his chair across from me. He steeples his fingers, assessing me. I know what it’s like to sit on the other side of the desk, the power it can give you.

But unlike this piss ant, I actually have some. And he’s about to loose everything if he doesn’t produce some fucking answers.

“We’ve still found nothing. Although the surveillance tapes you provided—” His eyebrow arches, baiting me to admit my wrongful involvement in Dale’s surveillance. But we’re past that. And he knows it.

If she makes it out of this, I’ll face consequences, if necessary. But right now? I’m finding my best friend.

He sighs, shaking his head. “There are clearly three people with Ms. Mendes. But as you’re aware, they’re masked, and didn’t even seem to enter with force. Maybe she knew them? Was Ms. Mendes in any kind of trouble? Running from someone watching her maybe? Was she into anything…distasteful that she wouldn’t want known?”

Each question feels like a knife, sawing through the fraying remains of my composure.

“Like what?” I argue.

He shrugs, leaning back. “Although loved as a teacher around here, she did have a bit of a reputation for?—”.

I bolt out of the chair, bracing both hands, now balled into fists, against the desk. My mouth tips into a snarl, my eyes working to burn straight through the bastard, who has the good sense to look at least a little nervous.

“Finish that sentence, and consequences be damned, you’ll never have a job here, or anywhere for that matter. Dale isn’t what the fucking stereotypes make her out to be. And even if she was, she got fucking kidnapped and deserves every single person here out there looking for her. She deserves a god damnarmy.” I straighten, pulling on the cuffs of my shirt, even as the skin beneath quivers.

“I came to the department to see if you could help her. But we’re done. I’ll find Dale on my own, and you’ll stay out of my way unless I request your assistance. I’ll call in every favor I have, spend every penny I own, and I’ll get her back.”

Without waiting for a reply, I turn on my heel, storming into the main part of the department. There’s people milling about like ants on a hill, but not one of them looks concerned or even busy, and the sight of it punches a new wave of rage through me.

What the fuck is wrong with these people?

Dale’s one of the most beloved people in Moztecha, and yet, the police department is acting like she’s just gone on a vacation without taking sick leave, and she’ll be back soon. And if not,oh well.

It’s sickening, and infuriating, and I’m done pretending to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Stepping into the early Texas sunshine, I pause only a second to give my erratic heart a moment to catch up. Today’s warmer than the last week has been, and not for the first time I wonder what kind of conditions Dale’s in? Is she warm? Is she hungry? Is she hurt?

“Anything?” Gus steps into line with me as I walk down the sidewalk, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket.

“They’re fucking useless.”

He shakes his head, the black curls around his face blowing. “Well fuck, that’s what we expected. But what’s the plan?”

I don’t stop until I’m around the street corner, and face to face with a busy main street. My eyes track each person, each car—anything out of the ordinary, just like I’ve done every time I step out of the house now.

Even though there’s been no ransom, or proof of a connection,I can’t shake the feeling that Dale was taken because of me. Because of who I am and what my family does.

But if that’s the case, why haven’t they reached out? What do they want with her?

“You were saying you have a guy who’s looking through all the surveillance at the casino? Has he found any connections?”

I cringe at the sincerity in his voice, and at the fact that he doesn’t know“the guy”is his older brother. And even though the lie is beginning to feel like a boulder on my chest, now is not the time to tell him.

I have to find Dale.

“He hasn’t seen any connection.”

“Well, fuck,” Gus grumbles, staring at the people milling about like it’s just another bright, sunny morning in Texas, and not the forth day the most precious human alive has been missing.

“We just have to find something, anything. The fucking problem is there’s no connection, no reason, no anything,” I growl, kicking at a rock with my toe.