Page 35 of Lone Star Showdown

“Or Bodine was so wild in love with Manson,” Jericho speculated. Of course, there’s that whole ick factor of Bodine also having been Marla’s lover, but that was tame compared to setting loose a killer.

“Now, to shitty news number three,” Marco went on. “It’s about the kid, Jason.”

“Is he all right?” Rachel quickly asked.

“To be determined. I left him with a bodyguard earlier, but Jason gave him the slip, and he sneaked out of the safe house after he told the bodyguard he was going to play a game on his phone in the bedroom.” Marco muttered some profanity of his own. “We don’t know where he is. Jason is missing.”

Chapter Twelve

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Missing.

That was the word that kept repeating in Rachel’s head. Along with gunshot wound. Both had played into making this one hellishly long night which, of course, had had a hellishly long night before it.

At least there was some good news. Tilda had come out of surgery just fine, and she was alert and already on the mend. She was also rightfully pissed off at being shot and then her injury being used to set a trap for Jericho and her.

Thankfully, the trap hadn’t worked, but an incident like that had to be investigated. That was the reason Jericho and she were once again at the Canyon Ridge PD, finishing up their statements and waiting to hear what Manson had to say about her relationship with the dead gunman, Bodine.

If Manson complied with the sheriff’s demand that she come in for questioning, Manson was due to arrive any minute. Bree would question her and hopefully get her to confess to using Bodine. And then maybe, just maybe, Bree could make an arrest, and the murders would stop.

Once Jericho and she were done listening to Manson, they’d be going back to his place for some much-needed rest since Tilda was now sleeping off the anesthesia in her room at the hospital. Rachel would make a return trip to see her first thing in the morning, and hopefully, Tilda would be discharged in two days.

Tilda probably wouldn’t agree to it, but Rachel was going to try to talk her into staying at Jericho’s. At least until Arnez had been apprehended. Rachel figured her chances were slim to none on convincing Tilda to do that, but she would try. If necessary, she’d play the guilt card, reminding Tilda that as long as Arnez could get to her, he could use Tilda to then get to Jericho and her.

Rachel signed the hard copy of the report that had been generated with her statement, and she looked over at Jericho, who was doing the same. He lifted his head, their gazes connecting, and he did something that shocked her.

He smiled.

“What?” she had to ask.

“Remember the house I built for you when we were ten?” he answered.

Of all the things Rachel had thought he might say, that sure wasn’t one of them. But when the image of that “house” came to mind, she smiled, too.

“I do,” she confirmed. “It was a log cabin of sorts. Tree limbs and some concrete you found in your dad’s work shed. You built it deep in the woods, away from the hunting trails and the creek so that no one would find it.”

It’d been about the size of a doghouse, barely enough room for the two of them to squeeze in it together. There’d been no lust in those days. No need and longing for what his body could give her. There had just been a deep friendship.

Best buds.

In part because they’d been the only kids that age in the compound, and they weren’t allowed to stay over at school friends’ places. And because their friends’ parents wouldn’t let their kids come into the compound. So, Jericho and she had formed a bond.

And he’d built her a house.

“It didn’t have a security system,” she joked.

“But it did,” he argued. “I’d wedged some pointy rocks in between the tree limbs, and if someone touched it in the wrong place, they’d get jabbed. Not my best effort at personal space design,” he added.

“I don’t know,” Rachel countered. “It was a good place for us to escape.” She paused. “I wonder if it’s still there.”

“It is,” Jericho said, surprising her even more.

“How do you know that?” she asked.

“Drone pictures.”

He took out his phone and showed her some images of an area with thick trees and bushes. It took her a moment to realize it was indeed the woods behind the compound, and the little house was still standing. Sort of. One side of it had collapsed.

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