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CHAPTER 54

CARLOS AND I jog through the parking lot to my truck.

“I’m driving,” I say, and he tosses me the keys without argument.

With the lights and sirens going, we speed through the streets. Within minutes, I pull into the entrance of Ascarate Park and drive past a playground and baseball diamond on my way to a cluster of vehicles with flashing blue lights. The crime scene is in a parking area next to a fishing lake about forty or fifty acres wide. A handful of EPPD vehicles, their blue lights reflecting on the black surface of the lake, surround a van that looks just like the one Llewellyn Carpenter fled in when I saw him at the brothel in Phoenix. A flatbed tow truck has backed up, ready to load the vehicle.

We duck under the police tape without asking permission and approach the van.

“Wait just a goddamn minute!”

Ryan Logan approaches from the side.

My heart sinks. Looks like we didn’t beat him here after all.

“What are you doing here, Yates?” he sneers. “I told you I didn’t want to see you anywhere near my crime scenes.”

“Who says this is your crime scene?” I snap. “Last I heard El Paso was in Texas. And you see this here.” I point to the star on my chest. “This means I’m a Texas Ranger.”

He glares at me, and I glare back. We’re only a few feet apart, and the tension between us fills the air like static electricity ready to explode. The wind gusts around us, and across the lake, blue serpents of lightning snake from the clouds to the horizon.

“You see this?” he says sarcastically, pulling out his badge, “this means I work for the United States government. If you want to get into a jurisdictional pissing match, be my guest. What do you think your commander is going to say if he gets a call from the attorney general of the United States?”

“He’ll probably tell him, ‘This is Texas—you feds either help my boys or you get the hell out of their way.’”

Ryan harrumphs. Around us, every EPPD officer and FBI agent has frozen, watching the confrontation. It’s like an impromptu match between two heavyweights has just broken out, and they have ringside seats. Ryan and I have gone a few rounds before, but those were just warm-up bouts. This time, I intend to fight Ryan Logan with everything I’ve got.

“Rory, you’ve only been involved in one little part of this investigation. I’m overseeing the whole damn thing. Did you know that every single person we’ve arrested has shut their mouth tighter than a clam and we can’t get a bit of new intel from them? We’ve rescued all these women, but we haven’t stopped the people at the top. Whoever they are, they’re going to either get away scot-free—or rebuild.

“Go ahead and pat yourself on the back for saving a few women and nabbing a couple bad guys,” he continues. “It’s my job to bring down the whole empire. Don’t forget that you’re just a tool for me, an instrument, and you’ve proven more trouble than you’re worth. You’re easily replaced.”

As much as I want to tell him to go fuck himself, I try to keep my comments slightly more professional.

“Even though you don’t seem to have any respect for me,” I say, “I have a hell of a lot of respect for you, Ryan. You’re a good agent. I can tell that. You’re juggling who knows how many agents and officers, coordinating efforts in multiple cities and states. You’ve got a responsibility I’ve never had to deal with. But I know a thing or two about working with other people. I’m a Texas Ranger, and my job is to range across the state, helping different agencies and sheriff’s offices, and the way you’re going about it isn’t the best way. You push people around, and anyone who doesn’t bend to your will, you cast them aside. Let this lowly Texas Ranger give you some advice. You need to learn to work with people.”

“Rory,” he snaps, “I don’t need your advice. I’ll do my job however I damn well please. You’re welcome to go home and do yours the way you want.”

“That’s the thing, Ryan. This is Texas. I am home. I’m going to investigate crimes in my state, and if you don’t want to work with me, you damn sure better not work against me.”

He glares at me, visibly angry. But he knows he’s not getting rid of me. I hate to embarrass him in front of all his subordinates, but he didn’t leave me much choice.

“Fine,” he says finally. He sweeps his arm toward the van. “You’re free to examine the crime scene. You’ve got five minutes. We need to get this van out of here before the sky opens up and the rain washes away all our evidence.” As I start to move, he adds, “Don’t touch anything. And if you see anything worth noting, you tell me. No keeping secrets.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I say, stepping past him. “I know how to work with people.”