Blanco County 04 - Guilt Trip Read Free

pissed in his pants.
    Back then, Marlin thought both boys had learned their lesson. Lately, though, he’d been hearing things about the kid who had done the shooting, and he suspected the delinquent-in-training was back at it again.
    Moments earlier, sitting in his truck, Marlin had been thinking of making an unannounced visit to the ranch, just to let the boy know he was watching.
    That’s when he heard it—a huge, quick boom, sounding like a cannon being fired in the Blanco town square. The resulting chatter over the radio told Marlin something big had just happened, but nobody seemed to know what.
    Marlin cranked the engine, dropped it into gear, and bounced down onto the road. He cut the wheel to the right and floored it toward the small town of Blanco. As he headed east, it seemed every deputy in the county was on the air—but it was a full minute before anyone came through with an explanation. Deputy Ernie Turpin, his siren screaming in the background, said, “Dispatch, be advised we’ve got a house fire at the end of Heimer Lane. Flames out every window. This place is going up quick, y’all.”
    Lucas Burnette was another local problem child, and had been since the age of fourteen. Now he was twenty years old and on a first-name basis with every cop in the county. The short version was, Lucas had a drug problem, and it dominated his life like a stack of overdue bills. His list of infractions was long. Breaking and entering. Possession of stolen goods. Possession of marijuana. Driving under the influence. Marlin had even busted him a couple of times for poaching.
    Despite all of Lucas’s problems, most of the officers couldn’t help but like the kid. Not all that bright, but funny as hell, affable, easygoing. He’d make jokes at his own expense when you were arresting him, and then, riding in the cruiser, he’d ask, with sincerity, how your family was doing. He was respectful and courteous, and he never resisted. Lucas hadn’t seen state prison time yet, just county jail. Each time he was paroled, released to a halfway house in Austin, those who knew Lucas would hold their breath and cross their fingers. Grow up, kid! they’d think. Disappointment always followed. Lucas would do fine for a couple of months, working steadily, staying clean, keeping out of the system. Then one day he’d skip out—just walk away from his best chance at redemption. Invariably, he’d come back to Blanco County, an hour west of Austin, and lie low, enjoying his freedom until the deputies happened to cross his path and pick him up again.
    This last time, though, it looked like he was finally shaping up. He’d been meeting the terms of his parole, including drug testing once a month. He’d been working full-time at the feed store, earning enough to move out of his parents’ place and make the rent on a small house on Heimer Lane.
    The same house—Marlin realized as he arrived on the scene—that was currently on fire.
    Ernie Turpin was right; the place was completely engulfed in flames, and the throng of emergency workers and curious onlookers was pushed back by the heat. Marlin knew there wouldn’t be any putting this inferno out, not until there was nothing left but the house’s charred skeleton. Regardless, Marlin spotted several firefighters in turnout gear dragging a hose from the only pumper truck on the scene. If nothing else, they could go defensive and knock down grass fires to protect the neighboring homes, the nearest of which was two hundred yards away.
    Marlin parked behind a cluster of deputies’ cruisers, an ambulance, and a dozen volunteer firefighters’ vehicles. As he climbed from his truck, Marlin saw two deputies—Ernie Turpin and a new woman named Nicole Brooks—working traffic control, keeping a path clear for emergency vehicles. Ernie and Nicole working closely together—no surprise there. Marlin gave them a wave, signaling his intentions, and proceeded in a wide arc around the home. For fifteen