Far Gone Read Free Page B

people out here valued their privacy and didn’t let down their guard with outsiders.
    Which was one reason so many leads in this case had turned to dust.
    She was still watching him. She sipped the whiskey again, and he saw her gaze return to the mirror. A stocky cowboy type steered a woman through the crowd toward the door. Jon recognized him as one of the ranch hands at Lost Creek.
    “I should get going.” In a quick, fluid motion she slid off the stool and scooped up her purse.
    “What’s the hurry? You haven’t finished your drink.”
    “That’s okay.” Her mouth curved into a coy smile. “It’s past my bedtime. I need to get home.”
    He stared down at her, and the smile irked him more than the lie. She dug a crisp twenty from her purse and placed it beneath her glass.
    “Nice talking to you.” Another smile before she turned on her heel.
    He watched her walk away. When she was gone, he slid the twenty into his pocket and replaced it with one from his wallet.
    The bartender filled a few beers and made her way over. She had leathery skin and lines around her mouth that signaled years of hard living under the West Texas sun. Jon had talked to her before but never bothered to introduce himself, and now he regretted it as she cleared away the half-finished Jack and Coke.
    He smiled. “I didn’t catch her name, did you?”
    “Don’t think she threw it.”
    “You seen her in here before?”
    “Nope.” Her tone was clipped, and she darted a glance at the clock. He figured she was jonesing for a cigarette. After a moment, she looked up at him and seemed to give in.
    “She asked about Lost Creek Ranch, same as you did.”
    Jon glanced at the door. He got up from his stool, even though he knew it was pointless to tail her. She’d be looking for it. He didn’t know much about her, but he knew that.
    He left another twenty on the counter and maneuvered through the crowd. He stepped into the parking lot and saw a pair of red taillights fading down the highway.
    He called Torres.
    “You were right, she’s a badge.”
    Curses filled Jon’s ear as he crossed the lot to his pickup. “I knew it!” Torres said. “The DEA’s fucking us again. Did you run the plate on her Cherokee?”
    “I thought you had it.”
    “Yeah, but something’s screwy. Must’ve got it down wrong. I can swing by the motel later, see if it’s there.”
    Jon looked out at the horizon, at the vast, empty desert. No traffic, no houses. Just a twinkle of lights on some distant oil derricks.
    “Don’t bother. She was heading for the interstate.”
    For a moment, Torres said nothing. Then he said, “Well, that’s good, right? Maybe she’s going back where she came from.”
    “Maybe,” Jon said, but he didn’t believe it.
    Jon ended the call and pointed his truck toward Maverick. He checked the dash clock. Ten past midnight. Another day gone and nothing to show for it.
    He trained his gaze on the endless yellow lines. Thirteen days. Less than two weeks left.
    The clock in Jon’s head continued to tick.

chapter three
     
    ANDREA SWUNG HER ARMS over her head and gazed up at the clouds. She bent down to touch her toes, did a couple of deep lunges, and set off toward the lake.
    She’d left her music behind so she could relish the sounds of traffic and construction and a city bustling with people. She’d actually missed the noise. She pounded down the sidewalk, passing commuters with umbrellas. She passed bus stops and coffee bars and bike shops with faded pictures of Lance Armstrong still on display. She passed aluminum trailers where the spicy scent of breakfast tacos wafted from the windows. Then she cut east at the lake, and as her feet hit gravel, she finally found her stride.
    The running helped. Always had. Her breathing was a soundtrack, better and more vital than any music as she focused on the tree-lined path and picked up the pace. The trail was clear today—nearly empty, in fact. She glanced left toward the water, but