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“That one,” said a voice from right close to Maria’s ear, making her jump. It had sounded just like Lily’s voice. Only it couldn’t have been, because Harry’s sister was sitting on the sofa across the room, petting Blue Boy. Maria looked around, but saw only family, none of them near her ear.
“I’m comin’ with you Bubba,” she said.
“We want to go with someone too,” Lily said, the real one this time. Maria didn’t even think about saying no.
“Second address is in town,” Orrin pointed out. “Mom and Drew can check that out. I’ll head in to back them up.”
Baxter said, “I’ll check the huntin’ lodge on Wood Canyon Road. “Trevor, you can ride shotgun.”
Willow raised her hands, saying, “Hold up, hold up. This is police business. We can’t have the family just go charging in?—”
There was a sarcastic laugh, from Aunt Chelsea of all people. Then she said, “Your uncle Garrett got that list too, hon. And he’s been letting you lead this. Have you noticed? Showing you how good you are. And you are. But he’s had your back the whole time and he has your back now. He’ll share that list with the rest of law enforcement, don’t you worry. And he’ll do it quick, because he knows this family. Heck, heraisedthis family.”
Willow shook her head. “Strictly recon, you hear? Don’t approach or do anything until law enforcement arrives. I’ll takesome deputies out to the fifth address. Stay in contact! Hyram, Lily, you can ride with me.”
Brands spilled from the house. Maria followed Bubba toward an ordinary blue pickup truck. He opened her door for her and kept walking around to the driver’s side. She got in. “It’s an okay truck,” she said. “Rental?”
“Loaner. Mine’s totaled. Insurance is replacin’ it, but it’ll take a bit to find one with the same color and trim package. I can wait.”
Sure he could, she thought, but she knew how much he’d loved his truck. He pulled the sub-standard replacement into motion, and they drove out, part of a small parade passing beneath the familiar TeXas Brand arch, leaving a comet’s tail of dust behind them.
One by one, they split off in different directions, until she and Bubba were on their own.
Seventeen miles later, they drove past the saloon. It was a slab-sided, one-story building with a roof that only slanted in one direction. Its front windows had neon beer signs, lit up 24/7, whether the place was open or closed.
It was closed just then, according to the sign hanging on the brown door that looked like it belonged in a country home. There were no vehicles in the driveway, but as they passed, Maria saw at least two parked out behind.
“Big SUV out there, and a pickup,” she said. “I’m texting the loop.”
Bubba turned the truck around in the road and started back toward the bar. “I’ll get as close as I can. We can sneak in from there, see if we can get a gander at our boy.”
“If they hurt Harry, I’m gon’ lose it, Bubba.”
“Harrison,” Bubba said. “He really wants to be called Harrison. And I really want to be called Ethan.”
She frowned and looked at him. “Really? It’s that big a deal?”
“It is,” he said.
She frowned at him, and then said, “I apologize, Bub— Ethan. Dang, that’s gon’ take some gettin’ used to.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Two guys as big as the driver had been waiting when the SUV pulled around behind a country-style bar. They’d taken him by either arm and escorted him into the building by way of a back door, through a kitchen. Portholes in swinging doors provided a glimpse of the hardwood floors and bar top on the other side. Then they took him through another door off the side, into a small room with dark-blue paint, a wooden chair, and a single, small window set deep into the wall. Its windowsill was two feet deep, and it had bars on the inside edge.
The big dudes deposited him in a wooden chair, the only piece of furniture in the room. Then they left him alone and closed the door. Locks turned. He got out of the chair, walked around, tried the doorknob for the hell of it.
Someone thumped the door’s other side and said, “Knock it off.”
He went to the window, could reach through the bars far enough to touch the glass. But the window didn’t have any opening mechanism that he could see, short of smashing through it. Which would do him no good anyway, due to the bars.
The door opened, and he turned. A barrel-chested man with Colonel Sanders hair, and the bolo tie to go with it came inside and closed the door behind him.
“So, you’re the genius behind that little solar tile, are you? Smart fella. Smart.”
“If I’m so smart, how’d I wind up here?” Harrison asked, looking around the room. Was there anything he could use for a weapon? Could he bring himself to bash an old man’s head in, even if there were?
Was Maria okay? He thought she’d been okay. He flashed back to his last sight of her, lying on the ground, reaching for him, tears in her eyes. She’d better be okay.
