His anger was obvious. Seething.

  “We were discussing fourth-century Russian literature, weren’t we?” I said, and I turned to give Shauna a look—which was a big mistake, and Lord knows I should’ve known better—because two seconds later, when I turned back toward Caleb, all I saw was a fist flying toward my face.

  Some people would say I flinched, but I say I tried to make an evasive maneuver, so instead of taking the punch square in the nose, I felt the impact on my left cheekbone. Ever been kicked by a mule? Me, neither, but it probably feels a lot like that punch. Pretty impressive for a guy the size of Caleb. Then again, I’m sure his arms were rock-solid from wrestling a motorcycle around a dirt track over and over again for years. Bottom line, I’m pretty sure I was unconscious before I hit the floor.

  Funny thing was, that unscheduled nap would give me another big break in this case.

  Just like the punch, I didn’t see that coming.

  34

  WHEN I CAME around, I was seated in the van, still parked outside the dealership. I couldn’t remember if I’d walked out or been carried out. That wasn’t a good sign. My left cheek had already swollen to the point that I could see the swelling with my left eye. I checked my injury in the rearview mirror and was relieved I didn’t see any blood. I felt the back of my head and found a lump the size of a golf ball, but no blood back there, either.

  My baseball cap was still resting on my head. That made me smile. It hurt my face, but I couldn’t help it. Did I mention earlier that this was the cap with the tiny video camera concealed inside it? Jeez, of course it was. That’s one of the things I do for a living. I record stuff, especially interviews that might uncover critical information.

  I patted my pockets and felt my phone, eyeglasses, and wallet.

  The keys were already in the ignition, so I started the engine and headed for home. Carefully. I stopped at a convenience store for some ice, which I held to my cheek for fifteen minutes, but it didn’t help the swelling much.

  The smell of paint was strong when I walked into the house. When I stopped in Mia’s doorway, she turned—about to say something peppy and upbeat, judging by the look on her face—but when she saw my swollen cheek, that expression disappeared.

  “Oh, my God. What happened?”

  I had to tell her, of course, although I tried to minimize it. But when she learned I’d lost consciousness, she insisted we go to an urgent-care clinic so I could get checked out.

  The ride to the clinic was quiet.

  Halfway there, I said, “You want to hear about the progress I made on the case?”

  “Honestly, not right now, no. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  When we parked outside the clinic a few minutes later, she turned to me and said, “This can’t keep happening, Roy. One of these days, you’re going to be injured really badly. Or killed.”

  “I blew it,” I said. “I let my guard down. It was a one-time mistake.”

  She looked at me as if I just didn’t quite get it, and then we went inside.

  All the tests were normal. The doctor offered a prescription of hydrocodone to help with the pain, but I declined. The throbbing was fairly intense by this point, but I didn’t want Mia to think I needed the pills.

  When we got home, she went back to painting. I ordered a pizza to be delivered for dinner, then went into my office.

  I grabbed my baseball cap and connected it to my Mac via a USB cable. Downloaded the video file from the dealership.

  I was already telling myself I wouldn’t find anything useful on it beyond the interview with Shauna and the assault by Caleb. Why get my hopes up?

  The hat had landed right side up, but apparently facing away from my limp body. I could see underneath a nearby motorcycle, but I couldn’t see Shauna or Caleb. I could hear them, though. The sound wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough.

  “Well, fuck. I didn’t mean to hit him that hard.”

  “Why did you hit him in the first place?”

  “I lost my temper. You think he’s okay?”

  “He’s breathing, but I think we need to call 911.”

  “Not yet. Let’s wait and see if he wakes up.”

  “That was stupid, Caleb.”

  She said something else I couldn’t make out, and he said, “Did he hit his head on the floor?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Son of a bitch, my hand hurts.”

  “I wasn’t telling him anything. Why did you do that? You only made it worse.”

  “That’s the guy who shot Landon. You know that, right?”

  “That’s what I thought at first, but he said he was a cop, so I—”

  “He’s not a cop.”

  “Okay, but I wasn’t sure. I don’t know why you hit him. Now he can—”

  “Just shut up for a second.”

  “Don’t tell me to shut up.”

  “I’m sorry, but I need to make sure he wasn’t recording everything.”

  “It doesn’t matter, because I didn’t tell him anything. I had it under control.”

  “Just hang on.”

  A ten-second pause followed, during which he was obviously rooting through my pockets to find my phone.

  “Okay, he wasn’t. Fuck, my hand is killing me. Look how swollen it is already.”

  “It’s probably broken.”

  I found myself hoping it was. Would serve him right.

  “I need to delete the video from the security cameras. If I say he swung on me first, will you back me up?”

  She didn’t reply. Maybe I couldn’t hear it, or maybe she nodded.

  Caleb said, “He swung first, and I had no choice but to defend myself. What was he asking you about?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Mal.”

  “Of course.”

  “Did you tell him what he did?”

  “Yes, but it was like he already knew most of it. The cops must’ve told him.”

  “He knew what Mal made you do?”

  “Yes, but I told him I never told you about it. I said I never told anybody.”

  She’d lied to me earlier when she’d said she hadn’t told Caleb, and now she’d lied to Caleb, claiming I’d already known about the rape.

  Caleb said, “Good, but he’s not a cop and you didn’t have to talk to him at all.”

  “And you didn’t have to punch him in the head. He is totally out. We should probably call for EMS.”

  “Not yet. They’ll never know we waited. I don’t want to call unless we have to.”

  Shauna must’ve knelt down beside me, because she said, “Look how limp his arm is.” Then, a few seconds later, she must have raised one of my eyelids. “His eyes are halfway back in his head. We can’t wait much longer. His brain could be swelling or something.”

  “When you said you never told me, did he believe you?”

  “I don’t know, because you walked over right then.”

  “You know I’m innocent, but I don’t need people thinking I had a reason to do anything to Mal.”

  I didn’t believe Caleb was innocent, but that comment indicated that Caleb and Shauna had not conspired, and that she hadn’t been lying when she’d told me she didn’t know anything about it. Didn’t she wonder why Caleb’s best friend had tried to gun me down in Zilker Park? Caleb had probably given her the same lame excuse Coyt had given Randy Wolfe—that Coyt had recognized Erielle and walked over to say hello, at which point I flipped out and shot him.

  “I know,” she said.

  “It’s bad enough that the cops know about us.”

  “But we didn’t do anything, so we have nothing to worry about,” she said.

  “Did he ask about Erielle?”

  If this had been a movie, this is where the music would’ve ended with a needle scratch. I sat up straight in my chair. Had I heard it correctly? I backed it up and listened again and was certain that’s what Caleb had said.

  “Did he ask about Erielle?”

  “Why would he ask about her?”

  Shauna seemed as confused by Caleb’s question as I was.

  “I don’t know. Just because she was at the party, I guess. My head isn’t on straight right now.”

  “Hang on. One of his eyes is opening.”

  “I’m gonna go back to my office. Let’s just let him leave, unless he tries to cause trouble.”

  That was followed by a long pause—at least twenty seconds.

  Then Shauna said, “Are you okay?”

  “Holy fuck,” I said, because I’m a craftsman with the English language.

  “You want some water?”

  “Just hang on,” I said, sounding groggy as hell.

  “Can you stand up?”

  “Not a good idea right now.”

  “I’m sorry he did that,” Shauna said very quietly. I didn’t remember any of this.

  “You and me both.”

  Ten more seconds passed.

  “Okay,” I said. “Can you help me up?”

  I heard myself grunt, and five seconds elapsed, and then I said, “It’s been fun. Tell Caleb paybacks are hell.”

  “Oh, wait. Your hat.”

  The video changed as she picked up the hat and handed it to me, and now it was pointed directly at the floor, hanging from my hand.

  “Thanks.”

  “You might want to see a doctor.”

  “Maybe so, but right now I’m gonna drive in heavy traffic with a head injury.”

  I have to admit I chuckled at my own wit. I crack me up.

  The video swung back and forth wildly as I exited the dealership and walked to the van with the hat dangling from my hand. I climbed inside, put the hat on, sat for a full minute, and that was about the point when my memory came back.

  This case had just taken a seismic shift, but I couldn’t get my footing quite yet.

  “Did he ask about Erielle?”

  What was there to ask about? A lot of people were at the party. Why had Caleb asked about her specifically?

  I watched the video a second time, and a third. In the context of this conversation, Caleb’s asking about Erielle made no sense.

  Then the doorbell rang. Pizza guy.

  I couldn’t sleep much that night. Not just because my mind was racing, but because my head throbbed—enough that I wished I’d taken the prescription for the hydrocodone.

  On the other hand, I wanted my mind clear enough that I could process what I’d learned.

  “Did he ask about Erielle?”

  I kept coming back to that question, and forming questions of my own. And no matter how I answered them, I kept reaching the same conclusion.

  I needed to talk to Erielle again.

  35

  I TEXTED TASHA at 8:30 the next morning.

  I know you don’t want to hear from me, but can we talk?

  No reply for five minutes.

  I have some new information and I really need to talk to Erielle again.

  No reply for five minutes.

  She might be the key to solving the case.

  I saw the little bubble with three pulsating dots that indicated she was writing a reply, but she changed her mind and didn’t send it.

  So I said: She could be in danger. Can’t you just hear me out? There’s a chance the guy in Zilker was after her, not me.

  It was a leap on my part, but if it was true, it meant I hadn’t endangered Erielle’s life, I’d saved it.

  Finally, Tasha replied.

  I’m not sure where she is.

  Do you know if she’s okay?

  We’ve texted a couple of times. She’s scared.

  Why?

  She won’t say.

  Can you ask her if she’ll talk to me one more time?

  Five minutes passed.

  Then Tasha said: Come see me at work and tell me what’s going on. If I agree you need to talk to her, I might have an idea where she is.

  She climbed into the van in the Best Buy parking lot and immediately said, “Jesus, what happened to your face?”

  The truth was, it hurt less than it had yesterday, and the swelling had gone down quite a bit, but it was still bruised and noticeable.

  “I pushed an old woman out of the way of a train,” I said.

  “Wow.”

  “I know.”

  “You are such a hero.”

  “True.”

  “Selfless and brave.”

  “That’s me.”

  “But what really happened?”

  I was glad she was willing to joke around. Maybe her anger had dissipated.

  I quickly brought her up to speed, starting with my phone call with Raine, which led to my excursion to Motorcycle Mania and the secret recording of Shauna and Caleb’s conversation. I played it for her on my phone.

  “Why would he ask about Erielle?” Tasha asked afterward.

  “That’s the question.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Well, it might, but it doesn’t make any sense to us right now. Caleb was worried that I’d been asking about her, and I take that to mean she knows something. I realize that’s just a guess, but if I’m right, I’d say there’s a good chance Landon Coyt was coming after her, not me. That’s why I need to talk to Erielle—to see if I’m right.”

  “What would she know?”

  “We can guess all day, but I’d rather talk to her. If she’ll talk.”

  Tasha was quiet, mulling it over. Hesitant. Maybe skeptical.

  I said, “When I talked to her in Zilker Park, she acted like she barely knew Caleb’s name. But she went to a July Fourth party at Malcolm’s house and she met Caleb there. I saw photos. So why would she pretend she didn’t know him?”

  “Because she’s a space case? Maybe she simply didn’t remember.”

  “But she was also at Malcolm’s funeral when Caleb showed up and got in that brawl. There is no way she wouldn’t have known who he was.”

  “Okay,” Tasha said. “I agree. I warned you from the start that she’s a liar, didn’t I?”

  “You did.”

  “But why would she lie about that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You think she knows who killed Malcolm Shaw?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she knows who killed JD.”

  I could tell that Tasha was reluctant to act, but it would be for the best.

  I said, “You know where she is?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Could we at least text her and see if she’ll cooperate?”

  “If she’s where I think she is, the cell service is spotty. It could be several hours before she gets it, or she might not get it at all.”

  “Then will you tell me where she might be?” I asked. “After that, I promise I’ll get out of your life forever.”

  She looked at me, amused. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’m glad.”

  She looked at her watch, then at the storefront of Best Buy. Then she said, “You know where Old Spicewood Road is?”

  I almost laughed. Boy, did I know that road. That’s where Mia’s former boyfriend Garlen had flipped his car when he’d chased me in a fit of anger.

  There was no time to get into all that, so I simply said, “West of here, near Cypress Mill.”

  Tasha nodded. “My dad bought a couple hundred acres out there about thirty years ago, before prices really skyrocketed, and he built a cabin on Cypress Creek. It’s small, but it’s actually very nice. All the comforts of home.”

  “Except the Internet.”

  “Right. My dad doesn’t care about that. And the cell service sucks. You have to walk way uphill to the gate to make a call or send a text, and sometimes you can’t even get a signal there.”

  “You think Erielle is out there?”

  “I’d say it’s a solid bet. I can’t think of anywhere else she’d go.”

  “Does she go there a lot?”

  “Hardly ever, but I could see her going out there now.”

  “You mind if I drive out there and check?”

  “No, but I’m going with you.”

  Tasha told her assistant manager she had a family emergency and would be gone for the rest of the day.

  “You sure Erielle doesn’t own a gun?” I asked for the second time as we drove out Hamilton Pool Road. The family cabin was on the west end of Old Spicewood Road, so this route was quicker than taking Highway 71.

  “I would be wildly surprised if she had a gun,” Tasha said. “I don’t think she’s ever shot a gun, or even handled one.”

  “Has she ever wildly surprised you before?”

  Tasha looked over at me as I drove. “I think you know the answer to that. But I still don’t think she would have a gun out there.”

  “I just don’t want to get shot,” I said. “Nor do I want you to get shot. Nobody should get shot. That’s just a good rule to follow in daily life.”

  “Hey, it’s something you could add to your résumé,” she said.

  “Already added it,” I said. “Don’t need that merit badge a second time.”

  I could feel her looking at me. “Seriously? You’ve been shot before?”

  “I have, and I don’t recommend it.”

  “Dude, you are a serious bad-ass, aren’t you?”

  “I’m mostly just an ass.”

  She laughed.

  We were passing the entrance to Reimer’s Ranch, a gorgeous county park on the Pedernales River.

  “You going to tell me about it or what?” Tasha asked.

  “About being an ass?”

  “About getting shot.”

  “Okay. If you want. You remember a little girl named Tracy Turner who went missing?”

  She turned quickly toward me. “Of course I do. Are you the guy who found her?”

  “I am.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Okay.”

  “If I remember right, you barged into an empty house, figuring she was in there, but knowing you might get shot.”

  “More or less, but I was hoping I was wrong—about getting shot.”

  “But you weren’t wrong.”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Fucking amazing. Excuse my language.”

  “And painful. Don’t forget painful.”

 

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