Page 21 of Never Stay Gone
Shane tookJackson out to the paddock when his eyes finally dried, and together they brought out fresh hay for Jackson’s horse and brushed him down in the shade cast by a cluster of oaks. The whole time, Jackson was silent. Dakota watched from the side, listening to the wind pick back up and Shane murmur as he sweet-talked Jackson’s horse.
Eventually, Shane guided Jackson to the porch and sat him down on the steps. The foreman’s wife reappeared with more tea and a shoulder squeeze for Jackson, then went inside and shut the door firmly behind her.
“Please don’t tell me she was in that grave with those other bodies,” Jackson said. “I heard the guys talking ’bout it this morning. Some hole out in the desert…”
“I’m sorry,” Shane said again.
Jackson hunched forward, his hands folding together as he stared at the ground.
“She was one of the six that someone put into the ground. We’ve got three women identified, and your momma is one of them. I need to ask you some questions about the last time you saw her or spoke to her. We need to find the bastard who hurt her, and I need your help to do that. Okay?”
Jackson nodded.
“Your daddy came through here about two months ago. They had another fight. Do you remember anything about that?”
Jackson shook his head. “I wasn’t there. Momma wouldn’t tell me about their fights after I moved out. She didn’t want me to get in trouble, I think.”
“Trouble?”
“’Bout three years ago, I was visiting her when he showed up. We got into it, him and me. I told him if I ever saw him again, I’d kill him where he stood. Said he was no father of mine. I threw him into his piece-of-shit car and told him to get gone.”
“What happened after that?”
“He left. It was quiet for about a year. But then one day I went to see Momma to drop off some groceries. I don’t get paid much, but I make enough to buy her food a few times a month, if I drive out to the dollar store. When I got to her house, she had a black eye again.” Jackson’s hands made fists over his knees, and his jaw clenched so hard his cheek bulged out.
Dakota leaned against the porch railing and folded his arms over his chest. He watched Shane question Jackson, eyeing both men.
“Have you seen your father at all since then?”
“If I had, he’d be dead.”
Shane was quiet and waited.
“No,” Jackson said, shaking his head. “I haven’t seen him since that one time three years ago.”
“When’s the last time you saw your momma?”
“About two months ago. Right after that piece of shit beat her up again. She said she was gonna get out of here for a while. Drive out to San Angelo or Weatherford. She was worried about leaving me behind, but I told her to go.” He gave Shane a wavering smile. “She told me ’bout how you helped her out. I know you wanted to put that son of a bitch in jail, but she wouldn’t ever press charges against him. Getting her out of town was the next best thing. She said goodbye after we talked, and then she drove off.” He pointed to the road leading to the highway from the ranch. “She was right there.”
“Did you hear from her at all after she left? She call you from the road, or when she got to where she was going?”
Jackson shook his head. “She never had a cell phone. Couldn’t afford one. She said she’d write to me when she got settled wherever. I been waiting for a postcard or somethin’. I figured she was just working hard, establishin’ herself. I didn’t think—” His voice choked off, and he looked away.
“Do you know if she was getting right on the road or if she was going to stop anywhere? Say goodbye to anyone else?”
“She was going to pick up her last paycheck from the truck stop, then go, she said. If she didn’t, she’d chicken out, just go back home and wait for Frank to come beat her up again.”
“And you haven’t heard from Frank in three years?”
“I ain’tseenhim in three years. But he called me about a month ago.” Jackson scowled. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a cheap flip phone, the kind Dakota remembered from the early 2000s. Jackson opened it and powered on the screen. It took several seconds for the display to flicker on. “Here.” Jackson moved through the menus and held out the phone to Shane. “He called me twice from the same number. He don’t got a cell phone, so I don’t know what he was calling from. He left a voicemail, which is how I know it was him.”
“Area code 432,” Shane said. He looked up at Dakota.
“Here in the Trans-Pecos.” Dakota’s lips twisted.
“I think he said Odessa in the message, but he was pretty drunk.”
“When was this phone call?” Shane snapped a picture of Jackson’s cell phone with his own phone.
