Page 76 of The Texas Murders

“Don’t you die on me, Ranger!” she screams.

He lets out a soft cough, and that seems to open the floodgates of his lungs. He hacks violently, rolling onto his side, each cough seeming to rip him apart.

“It’s okay,” she says, patting his back. “Get that shit out of your lungs.”

He sits up, taking big wheezing breaths. He blinks and looks around, seeming to understand most of what happened while he was out.

“Where’s Carlos?” he croaks, barely able to speak.

“Still inside,” Ava says, and they both turn to look at the community center and the columns of flame swelling from its windows and growing by the second.

CHAPTER 67

I CAN’T STOP coughing.

My lungs feel like they’re being scraped by a cheese grater.

“Can you walk?” Ava asks.

I nod but don’t waste my breath on speaking. She helps me up. While I was in the basement, dawn arrived, and now the air is filled with a soft muted light. Flakes of ash drift down on us, and the air stinks of smoke.

We jog around the building inside the perimeter of the fence—me still hacking terribly—until we find Llewellyn Carpenter trying to push the fence he’s been handcuffed to away from the building. He’s managed to disengage one panel from the rest of the temporary fencing and is dragging it toward my truck.

I reach into my pocket and grab the key fob. The truck beeps as I lock the doors.

Carpenter spins around, and the look on his face, seeing us alive, is priceless.

Ava runs up and gives him a shove, and he and the fence panel topple over.

“I should kill you,” she growls.

“Wait,” I say, catching up to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “We need him.”

We’re far enough from the building that we’re not in immediate danger, but we can feel the heat, like standing next to an open oven. We uncuff Carpenter from the fence and then recuff his hands behind his back. He winces when I click the handcuff ring over his injured wrist.

“You keep an eye on him,” I say to Ava. “I’ll go look for Carlos.”

“You can’t go in there,” Ava says.

The second floor of the building doesn’t seem to be fully engulfed yet, but I’m not sure how to get up there. Through the smoke pouring out of the front entrance, we can see flames consuming the interior walls.

“I have to try,” I say.

I circle around the building, looking up and down for another entrance that might not be on fire yet. I find a side door, but the metal handle is hot to the touch, and I can hear the engine of the fire just on the other side.

I keep going, and when I round a corner to the back of the building, I spot a sight that fills me with joy.

It’s Carlos.

Hanging out a second-floor window by his fingertips.

I run toward him, just as he jumps down, hitting the blacktop and rolling dexterously with his momentum. I grab him by the shoulders and help him up.

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice still shredded from all the coughing.

He takes one look at my smoke-stained face and says, “Are you?”

“I’ll live,” I say, as we move away from the building.

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