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Jack stood and staggered. He put out a hand, but Joh

“How did you try?”

“You remember I told you that Gerald broke my arm?” Jack was shaking, begging with his eyes. “It was my dad, Joh

“Because of Gerald’s career?”

“It’s all they talk about.” Joh

Joh

“Another lie.”

“Then why now, Jack? Why tell now?”

“Because Freemantle was sent here for a reason.”

“What reason?”

Jack was terrified. “God knows.”

No crows, Joh

“He kept saying it. Even in his sleep, he said it. No crows. God knows. You remember the name of the mine shaft? No Croz. I can’t get it out of my head, Joh

“What?”

Jack sat down on the stone. “God knows the beauty of her soul.” Jack raised his small hand. “I’m going to burn in hell, Joh

He was weeping.

“Joh

Joh

“Joh

Nothing. Wind in the grass.

“Joh

CHAPTER SIXTY

Hunt drove fast, blue lights hot behind the grille. Yoakum, beside him, was iron-faced. The dashboard clock read ten after one in the morning. Hunt had arranged an emergency meeting with the district attorney and the magistrate. It took an hour, but he had an arrest warrant in his coat pocket and two hand-picked uniforms rolling backup. Nobody else knew. Not the Chief. No other cops. They were ru

For the third time, Yoakum checked the loads in his borrowed gun.

Hunt’s phone rang. He glanced at caller ID then answered. The call was brief, and when it was over, he did not look at Yoakum. “Medical examiner,” he said. “Dental records match. It’s Alyssa.”

Silence. Rubber on pavement.

“I’m sorry, Clyde.”

“Four minutes.”

Thirty seconds later, Hunt’s phone rang again. He didn’t recognize the number on ID, but he answered it, then listened. “Where are you, Joh

Hunt listened for a full minute, saying nothing. When the kid was finished, the last piece clicked into place and Hunt had the picture. All of it. A perfect fit. “Okay, Joh

He hung up again and Yoakum waited ten seconds. “What?”

Hunt gave it to him in short, hard sentences. The way Alyssa died. How she ended up in that shaft.

Yoakum had to chew on it for a minute. “She died in an accident?”

“Gerald was drunk. Cross hid the body to protect his son. He dumped her in that shaft. All alone.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Jesus.”

“You okay?”

“We bring Gerald in, too.”

“We don’t have a warrant for Gerald.”

“Suspicion of manslaughter. It’s enough to question him.”

“That Joh

“Yes.”

“Cross is so going down.”

“One minute.”

Hunt turned into Cross’s neighborhood.

Joh

“I couldn’t call Hunt,” she said, and stood. “He would never let me have you back.”

Joh

“You left me,” she said, and Joh

“I will never do it again.”

“How can I believe that?”

“I promise.”

She crossed the room and put her arms around him. “Promise me again.”

Joh

She squeezed him hard, and when she stepped back, Joh

An accident.

They were quiet for a long time after that.

Quiet but together.

Hunt got the domestic disturbance call when they were two blocks out. “Be advised, neighbor reports a weapon at the scene.”

“Shit.”

Hunt hit the siren and the patrol car behind him did the same. Two quick turns and Cross’s house was up on the right. Lights burned at the roofline, big spots on the corners, lights on poles by the sidewalk. The white truck was nose-first and crumpled against the side of the house. Grass was torn up behind it, shrubbery plowed flat. One taillight blinked on and off. Red. Red. Red. Detective Cross was in the yard; so was his wife and Gerald. Cross was yelling. His wife was on her knees, Bible in hand, clenched in prayer.

Jack had the pistol.

He was pointing it at his father.

Hunt and Yoakum came out of the car the same time as the uniformed officers. Weapons came out. “Control your fire,” Hunt said. “I know the kid. I don’t want him hurt.”

The other cops heard him, but the guns stayed up. Hunt kept his own weapon in the holster. He eased onto the grass, hands out to his side. Jack was flushed and shaking. Tears stained his face. Cross was playing the stern father. “Jack, you give me that gun right now! Right this minute! I mean it!” Cross saw Hunt coming and held out one hand. “I’ve got this,” he said. “It’s under control.” Back to his son. “Jack, you see this? Somebody called the police. It’s time for this to end. Give me the gun.”

Behind him, Jack’s mother was rocking on her knees. Jack looked at her, and one hand found a silver cross that hung around his neck. Her voice rose and it was like she was speaking in tongues. “Don’t, Momma.” Jack’s face twisted. “Just don’t.” He tore off the cross and flung it at her.

“Give me the gun, Jack.”

Jack tore his gaze from his mother. His father was closer, now. Five feet. Four. “It’s your fault.” Jack’s voice was a whisper.

“Son.”

He stabbed the gun at his father. “I’m going to hell, and it’s your fault.”

Jack stepped closer as his mother wailed. Cross raised his hands. “Son…”

“God forgives the little sins.”

Hunt saw the hammer move, but he was too far away. “No.” He ran for Jack. The hammer rose and fell; Cross screamed as it dropped with a dry click. Jack pulled the trigger again, but nothing happened.

Hunt took the kid down.

The gun flew out of his hand and Cross reached for it. “Don’t touch that,” Hunt told him. He was flat on the grass, Jack pi

“What do you mean?”

“None of you move.” Hunt hauled Jack to his feet and handed him over to Yoakum. “Gently,” he said, and Yoakum lead the boy away, crying and snot-faced.

“I want to talk to Joh

The door closed, cutting him off, and he beat his head four times against the glass. Hunt picked up the gun and cracked the cylinder. Empty. He put the gun in his coat pocket. Cross risked a step, hands out. “He’s drunk. He has a problem. We’re getting him help.”