Page 275 of Rangers Last Promise

The fire is out.

The truck is covered in foam.

The collapsed cellar has been reinforced enough for the recovery team to enter safely.

Under portable lights, state investigators photograph every container before it’s lifted through the broken floor.

Twenty-three metal boxes.

Twenty-three men who were erased by someone powerful enough to believe no one would ever look for them.

Grant looked.

And fifteen years later, we found them.

I stand beyond the yellow tape with Doc beside me.

His hand rests against my back.

He hasn’t let me move more than three feet away from him since I jumped into Carson’s ambulance.

I’m pretending not to notice.

He’s pretending it’s accidental.

Neither of us is very convincing.

Sheriff Tate walks toward us.

“Carson has a broken ankle and a bruised hip.”

“He’s going to be all right?” I ask.

“Yes. Parker already called the hospital to make fun of him.”

“Good.”

Doc looks at me.

“That’s your definition of good?”

“It means Parker feels better.”

“And Carson?”

“He’ll survive Parker.”

Tate stops in front of us.

“They recovered a partial fingerprint from the abandoned pickup.”

“Vance?” Doc asks.

“We don’t know yet.”

“What about the driver’s side?”

“Wiped clean.”