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“No, I came over here because I wanted you to know that you’re still my family, even if things have been tough lately,” I say. “Also, how the hell did you get Jonesy to back off?”
“It wasn’t that hard,” Billy says. “You want a drink?”
More fiddling with his sweatshirt.
“Why are you twitching so damn much?” I ask. “What’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, Marci.”
“Sorry?”
Billy removes a gun from the waistband of his jeans and points it at me.
Thirty-Eight
JESSE
I don’t likethat she’s not here with me one damn bit.
I don’t like that she left to go see her brother on her own, and I don’t care that Savage is there to protect her. I should be there.
The mayor taps me on the arm. “Jesse?”
“Huh? Sorry, Mayor Williams,” I say. “You asked me a question?”
“Sure did,” he says. “I was talking about that ranch on the edge of the town, the one owned by that the, uh, what’s his name?”
“Carter Savage?” I ask.
“That’s the guy,” the mayor says. “Now, don’t you think that’s a waste of land? Could be used for actual cattle, not these, uh, self-defense courses and camps and whatnot.”
The mayor’s wife, Trudy, laughs.
“Bless his heart. He thinks he’s doing the town a service. Isn’t that what the police are for?”
“Always good to have an added layer of defense,” I say. “The more prepared people are to protect themselves, the better. That’s the Texan way.”
The mayor makes a noncommittal noise.
“Excuse me,” I say.
In the past, I would’ve pissed myself at the chance to talk to Mayor Williams about random shit or relevant shit. I would’ve agreed until I was blue in the face, but too much has changed for me to do that.
I walk out into that hall again with its paintings and nooks, parquet floors and chandeliers, and whip my phone out. I call Marci.
She doesn’t pick up.
“Fuck.”
I call Savage instead.
“Savage,” he answers.
“It’s Jesse.”
“Yeah, I can tell from my caller ID,” he says.
“Right. Fuck. Is Marci at Billy’s house?”
