Page 58 of The Texas Murders

“Yes,”Mr. Z says conversationally, as if they are discussing the weather,“we all have our own personal appetites.”

Llewellyn ends the call, and Marta sits leaning against the wall, her arms curled around her knees. She steals a glance through the window into the cab. Llewellyn is facing the windshield, where the highway leads off into desert hills. Her captor reaches for the radio and flips through the channels, finally settling for a sports talk show with the DJs discussingthe odds of any of the El Paso Chihuahuas getting called up to the big leagues this year.

Marta gets an idea. She doesn’t know if it will help, but she can’t do nothing.

She crawls toward the back of the van, checks the window to make sure Llewellyn hasn’t leaned over to look back at her, and then positions herself by the back door. She takes her index finger and presses it firmly against the metal. Then does it again.

And again.

And again.

Until she’s written a message to whoever finds the van—maybe that Texas Ranger they were talking about.

She only hopes he gets the warning in time.

CHAPTER 48

CARLOS DRIVES WEST.

He’s halfway between Houston and San Antonio, where he plans to grab a quick bite to eat, then push on to El Paso. It will take a good ten hours to get there. Maybe eleven.

The scenery of Central Texas is in sharp contrast to where he’s headed. The blue of the sky is washed out with humidity, and the landscape is flat and covered in unruly chartreuse grasses. Crocodile-green trees line the roadway.

He’s anxious to get back. The trip was necessary, although he’s not sure how much the interviews will help in the end. It’s what he’s been doing in the evenings—going through the victims’ phone records and social media accounts—that has proven the most fruitful.

He’s got news for Rory and Ava.

He’d been saying that something about the case felt out of reach, some connection among the women. He hasn’t figuredit out, not entirely, but he’s closer now, and he needs their input.

Rory’s truck is pretty much identical to his own, yet it feels weird to drive someone else’s vehicle. He wishes there was some way to swing up to Austin and get his own, but then he’d be abandoning Rory’s vehicle in the capital.

As the miles roll underneath him, Carlos thinks about his relationship with Rory. He hadn’t known what to expect when they’d first teamed up. Rory had a reputation for being cool in a gunfight but a hothead in other situations. Carlos has found both to be true. Sure, Rory can be impatient, temperamental, argumentative. But his heart is always true to his task. He tries to do the right thing. Period.

Texas Rangers don’t ordinarily work with partners, which suits Carlos just fine. He works better alone. Usually. But it’s been a nice surprise to have a partner on this case that he’s been proud to work with.

Carlos’s phone rings, and he expects it to be Rory with an update.

Instead, it’s Ava.

He puts the call on Bluetooth and says, “I’m on my way back to El Paso. Did you two make it?”

“Sort of,” Ava says, her voice indicating that something is wrong.

“What happened?” Carlos asks, keeping his eyes on the road. In the distance, he can make out the tallest buildings of San Antonio. “Let me guess: Rory was grumpy the whole time because he didn’t have his guitar?”

“Rory’s out,” she says.

“What do you mean ‘out’?”

“He quit. Or got fired. I’m not sure which. Maybe both.”

Ava explains what happened at the brothel—the shoot-out, rescuing the women, Carpenter escaping, and losing Martaagain. She says that Ryan Logan booted Rory off the task force. Then Rory and Ava drove through the night to get back to El Paso. Rory texted the woman they’d met at the bar, Megan, and asked to be dropped off at her house.

“We got there just before the sun came up,” she says.

“What did Rory say?”

“He said he was sorry. That’s all.”

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