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.“The man they’re looking for is Francisco Chavez.” He waited for her reaction.Camille leaned against the wall.Her skin was translucent, almost blue.Beneath her sundress, her nipples were hard.“I don’t think Francisco did anything wrong.He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”Eustace’s heart was leaden.She knew him.She called him by his first name.He gently lifted her head and stared into her green eyes.“Camille, what do you know about this man? You have to tell me.”Her eyes dropped, and she tried to pull her chin to her chest.“I don’t like the way you’re looking at me.”“I have to know.If you’re involved in the disappearance of those girls, it’s serious.” So serious he was willing to kill a man, even the other girl.“Tell me, Camille.”Camille put her arms around him; her flesh was cold.He held her tightly.“Let’s get out of the water.”“You hate Mother, don’t you?”He sighed.He’d never lied to Camille, and he didn’t intend to start.“Yes,” he said.“I do.I hate both of them, for what they’ve done to you.”“They didn’t win.”Oh, but at what cost, he wanted to ask.He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened.He hadn’t cried in forty years, but Camille was so fragile.“You went up there where they found that girl, didn’t you?”“Yes,” he said.“Hathaway’s Point.When was the last time you were there, Camille?”“Not so long ago,” she answered, turning away and wading to the other end of the vat.“I don’t want to talk about it any more.”“There’s going to be another hunt tomorrow.”Eustace waited.“They won’t find her.” Camille hopped to the ledge, swung her legs over, and stood.She lifted her dress, revealing her nakedness beneath, and squeezed the water from the fabric.Come on, she said.“I’m hungry.He climbed out with less grace and followed her.When they were inside, she went to the kitchen.He lingered in the bedroom until he heard her banging pots.Easing out her dresser drawer, he felt for the bracelet.It was gone.CHAPTER TWENTY-TWOThe leaves of the oak tree hung limp.Already hot and humid with hardly a breath of breeze, the day would only get worse.J.D.sat beneath the tree in his cruiser, his mind far ahead.He rasped a hand across the growth of beard and regretted that he hadn’t gone home when he got back to Jexville.Instead he’d begun to put together the evidence.Now, sitting at the end of Dixon’s driveway, he wished for a shower, shave, and fresh change of clothes.He also wished that Robert Medino’s rental car weren’t parked on the road in front of Dixon’s house at five-thirty in the morning.Waymon had left him a note saying Dixon had called repeatedly and been by the office more than once.She had a bee in her bonnet over something, and J.D.wanted to know what it was.If he were honest with himself, though, he’d have to admit that he wanted to see her for other reasons.His physical reaction to her was perfectly normal; it was his emotional response that worried him.Dixon was a survivor, but she had not come through life unscathed.She was searching for something that would make her whole, and J.D.understood that.Women, or men for that matter, who’d never suffered or lost lived on a different plane.Dixon lived where he lived.He wanted to know more about her.He almost drove away but instead got out of the cruiser and started down the tree-lined drive.“Fuck it,” he said softly as he walked up on the porch and knocked on the front door.To his surprise, Dixon, dressed in jeans and an unironed shirt, answered immediately.She waved him to silence, disappeared, and returned with two cups of coffee, both black.They walked into the shade of the big oaks.“Where in the hell have you been?” she asked.There was more weariness than force in her words.“I tried all day yesterday to find you.”“Mexico.”She wore no make-up and her hair was unbrushed.The shadows beneath her eyes showed that she hadn’t rested well.Was her sleep disturbed by bad dreams or Robert Medino? J.D.would have liked to ask her.“Were you tracking Chavez?” she asked.He nodded.“I think the killer is right here in Chickasaw County,” she told him.“He’s right under our noses.”He admired that she didn’t beat around the bush.“You got evidence?”“Yes.”“Let’s hear it.” He sipped the coffee.It was good, not too strong or old.J.D.felt the heat of anger as she started telling him about the sales slip.“You should have told me last week.” He didn’t bother to hide his irritation.He went over where she found the slip several times.“I am sorry.I only found it yesterday morning.I know you’re mad, and I don’t blame you.But what do you think?” she asked.“I think it’ll be the last time I ever take a journalist with me.”“I wasn’t after a story,” she said.“Right after I found it, we found that altar in the trees.I put the slip in my pocket and forgot it until I got dressed.Then I tried to call and you were gone.Ask Waymon.”“Have you taken it upon yourself to talk to Hayes?” he asked.“He won’t talk to me.”At least she hadn’t trampled all over that.“He won’t have that luxury with me.” He handed her the coffee cup.“I’m going on a hunt later today.You want to come with me?”“And Hayes?” she asked.He hesitated.“I’ll send Waymon to pick him up.”There was something in her face, something he didn’t understand.“You don’t believe Hayes did it,” she said.“No, I don’t.Not because he lives here, but because I know him, and I don’t think he’s capable of killing anyone.”“Not even a girl who’s going to ruin his career?”“Not even her.” J.D.saw someone pull the curtain aside and look out.Medino.He was surprised when anger seared him [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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