Page 6 of Never Stay Gone
“When was the grave discovered?” How far behind in the investigation was he?
Wayne checked his phone. “It was called in about three hours ago. They found it earlier today, but you know it’s like talking via tin cans and string out there. Chief Ranger Skidmore reached out to us as soon as he got word from the sheriff in Big Bend. We told him we’re sending you tonight. Apparently that Big Bend sheriff already requested forensics from El Paso, so by morning there should be some kind of movement. I called him, this Sheriff Heath Reed, and he swore he’s got a guy monitoring the crime scene overnight. Just hope to God he’s telling the truth and not cutting corners, or that Deputy Small Town isn’t sleeping on the job.”
Something inside Dakota twanged at the name Heath Reed. An old memory, from Back Then. Heath had been older, already out of high school, but he’d stuck around, and no one knew why. He was serious. Quiet. Always on his own. There’d been whispers about him back then. That he was a loner. Unusual. Different. He had his face in a book and earbuds in his ears all the time. No friends that Dakota could remember. How had Heath Reed become sheriff?
“You’re from out there, right?” Amanda spoke again, her voice stronger. She and Drew were still holding tight to each other, but she’d pulled herself together while Wayne spoke. Drew still looked devastated, and he watched Amanda as if he could pull some of her strength into him. Between the two, Amanda had always been the stronger. Always taken the lead. “I remember from your file.”
“I’m from nowhere. My parents were wanderers. Seasonal ranch workers. They moved from ranch to ranch, chasin’ work, but they settled outside of Rustler during my last years of high school. I guess my paperwork lists that as my hometown since I graduated there. But that was a long time ago.”
“You know the area. You know how things work out there. You probably still know some people too.”
Dakota inhaled slowly. “Sheriff Heath Reed is a name I recognize.”
Governor Riggs nodded, as if just that, him knowing the sheriff, was something she could cling to. “Find justice for Jessica, Dakota. And for the rest of those people in that grave.” Her blue eyes went watery again, for just a moment. Then she took a steadying breath and squeezed her husband’s hand. “Can you leave tonight?”
“Yes, ma’am.” There was nothing stopping him. He didn’t even have a plant in his apartment. Hell, he barely had an apartment. He lived in a long-term hotel. He’d never been good about putting down roots.
The one time he’d tried—
What would it be like, going back to Big Bend?
He hadn’t been back, not ever. The Texas border was a mighty big place, and even being deployed to protect it, he’d never even come close to Big Bend or to his past. He’d stayed away, far away, as if the place were haunted, as if just setting foot inside the county line would open his heart again and make him bleed out heartbreak and agony like he had all those years ago. But that was stupid. It wasn’t the place that had ripped out his heart.
Besides, it’s not likehewould still be there. He’d left. Gotten gone, as fast as he could, no looking back. Wasn’t that why—
Dakota slammed the door on those thoughts. All that belonged to Back Then. There was no reason, none at all, to ever think ofhimagain.
Shane Carson certainly never thought of Dakota Jennings. He could goddamn guaranteethat.
“I can leave within the hour.” Dakota stood. “I’ll reach out to Chief Ranger Skidmore, find out everythin’ we know so far. See if I can get ahold of Sheriff Reed tonight too. If I leave now, I can be in West Texas by sunrise.”
Amanda rose, followed by Wayne and her husband. “We won’t keep you. We have to find out what happened to Jessica and to the others in that grave. I can’t even imagine—” Her voice cut off again, and she pressed her lips together. Shook her head. Stared Dakota dead in the eyes.
“I’ll find out what happened, ma’am. I promise.”
She gave him the ghost of a smile. “Drive safe.”
“I’ll walk you out.” Wayne rested his hand on Dakota’s shoulder as they headed for the stairs. Behind them, Dakota could hear Drew asking Amanda if she was okay, followed by Amanda’s quiet snuffles.
He and Wayne stopped at the landing. Wayne fixed his steel-gray eyes on Dakota’s and braced his hands on his hips. “This could destroy Amanda’s political future. It’s an ugly thing to think right now, when Jessica’s still in the damn ground, but someone’s got to. Dead bodies sink political careers, and she is going for the Oval Office.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Wayne’s eyes narrowed. “I want you to find the bastard who did this. I want the world to know that Amanda Riggs is coming for this sick son of a bitch and that he’s going to pay for what he’s done. With his life, if a jury decides that’s his fate. But I want everyone to see that this kind of shit doesn’t happen in Texas, and anyone who tries it will find themselves run down by the Texas Rangers and dragged in front of a hanging judge. So you bring me whoever did this, Dakota, and you bring him to me fast.”
Chapter Three
Drivingacross Texas was like driving to the moon.
Dakota propped his elbow against the window frame on his truck. He could have flown, could have taken the governor’s plane, but then he’d have had to rustle up a truck when he landed. And it wasn’t like there were a lot of airstrips way out there. He could probably have called and woken someone up at Lajitas—right on the border—in the middle of the night, but there were no guarantees. Plus, he wanted his truck. And Chief Ranger Skidmore had told him to go check out what felt like half the tech from headquarters and haul it out there on the off chance it could help Sheriff Reed.
Who he hadn’t been able to get on the phone. He’d given up trying after three a.m. Damn Heath Reed. What was he doing that was so important he couldn’t answer his damn phone? Especially after sending in the kind of report that got people out of bed after midnight. Come dawn, a whole heap of bullshit was going to land in Heath’s lap, and he’d better be good and ready for it.
The reach to Fort Stockton always felt like driving back in time, like humanity and civilization were peeling away outside the confines of his truck and the pitch-black highway. At least during the day there’d be something to see, even if it was just a tumbleweed blowing in from of his bumper. But night drives across Texas were endurance tests, nothing but two headlights carving up the pavement for what felt like forever. The radio faded, only AM talk shows and static-choked classic country ballads tickling the speakers.
It left a lot of space for a man to think.
To remember.
