Page 32 of Lone Star

“You ever heard of the Vultures?”

“No.”

“That’s ‘cause they don’t exist anymore. They only had the one chapter, in Odessa, but they were growing, looking to expand. They did things dirtier than the Dogs, but they were getting stronger, and Jack knew we’d have to either broker a peace, or push them out of Texas, eventually. Their president had a real chip on his shoulder.

“Pacer was trying to put together his compound, then, and needed capital. His credit was too bad for the bank to give him a loan; he came to Jack, but Jack knew he’d never pay it back. It was bad business loaning money out to Pacer, and he knew it. So Pace went to the Vultures, and when he defaulted, they tried to kill him.”

Michelle felt her own jaw tightening. It was a timeless story; she knew exactly where it was going.

“Jack went to war on his behalf. The Vultures are gone, and Pacer’s still around to ask for more help.”

Help that Candy wasn’t hesitating to offer.

“Candy’s got a big heart,” she said, trying not to sound defensive.

“Yeah,” Jinx said, flatly, and the tamped-down worry in the back of her mind swelled.

“I’ve not met Pacer yet,” she said. In fact, she’d never heard of him before this incident. “Why was Candy the first person he thought to call?”

He lifted his brows. “Because of that big heart you just mentioned. And now.” He heaved out a breath. “Whoever wanted to send a message to Pacer is sending it to us instead.”

~*~

Candy got Pacer up, into socks, and a robe; he didn’t bother – once he’d seen how wobbly Pacer was on his feet – to try to talk him into putting on real clothes. Candy held his arm as they went down the hall to the living room, startled by the weakness of the older man’s grip; by the unsteadiness of his steps.

“Alright?” Candy asked, halfway to their destination.

Pacer wheezed something that might have been an affirmative.

In the living room, Melanie had opened all the blinds, and light poured in through the windows. The air smelled like she’d spritzed some sort of perfume or freshener, a clean linen scent.

Pacer squinted, and leaned more heavily against Candy.

He got him settled, arduously, into a recliner, and Melanie bustled in with a laden tray: soup, a grilled cheese, and a steaming mug of coffee.

“Here we go,” she said with false brightness. “Derek, you wanna grab that TV tray for me?”

“Oh, sure.”

As he unfolded it, Candy was struck by the sadness of Pacer’s life – and not even now, in this pitiful state, but on a good day. Eating alone most nights in front of the TV; he was well-acquainted with that phenomenon. His evenings had been much quieter and duller before Michelle entered his life – though he’d at least had Jenny. Pacer had no one most of the time, if the single TV tray was anything to go on.

They got him all set up, and, under both their gazes, Pacer picked up his spoon and began to eat with mindless, mechanical slowness.

Candy caught Melanie’s gaze and tipped his head toward the kitchen.

“What the hell?” he asked in a whisper, when they were standing in front of the fridge.

She flapped a hand toward the other room. “I told you. He’s bad.”

“He’sdrugged. What did he take?”

“Drug…” Her eyes widened, and then narrowed into a scowl. “He doesn’t take drugs,” she hissed. “You know that as well as me.”

“I know sobriety when I see it, and that ain’t it. This isn’t just depression. He’s on something.”

She folded her arms. “I was here all last night. If he’d taken anything, I’d know.”

He gave her a look.

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