“There’s the man finding the truck in the pond. Now he’s going into that water. Just look at his face. You can tell he thinks the driver is inside. Lord, lord, can you imagine the panic?”
The redheaded man took another bite of his biscuits and gravy as Angie continued her play-by-play.
“Look. There’s where he comes up the first time. Then he goes back down. They said that older man is his father. He looks so worried. Now the man comes up out of the water, takes a big breath and goes back down for the third time.”
Jimmy wished she would just shut up. They could see and hear for themselves, but Angie was too caught up in the drama to be quiet.
“Now watch! This is where he comes up out of the water and screams. Oh lordy…this just about broke my heart the first time. I thought he’d found the body and couldn’t get it out or something. Then when he walked away, I didn’t know what to think.”
Jimmy took another sip of his coffee and thought, So the guy was having a bad day. Well, welcome to my world.
“He’s a bounty hunter, you know,” Angie said. “I heard them talking about it later. Said the woman he thought was in the pond was his fiancée. She’s a bounty hunter, too.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened. Bounty hunter? Now that he thought about it, the man who’d been in the water looked a little like Wilson McKay.
“Uh…lady, what did you just say?”
Angie turned around, saw who was talking and almost turned her back on him. He smelled real bad; it had been all she could do to serve him. Now he wanted to start a conversation?
“I said the man is a bounty hunter. Got an office right here in Dallas.” “Did they give a name?” Jimmy asked.
“Why? You need bailing out from somewhere?” Jimmy glared. “Do I look like I’m in jail?”
She shrugged. “I can’t rightly say what you look like. I do know you need a bath.”
Before Jimmy could fire back a retort, the news anchor gave him the
answer.
“…McKay, a bail bondsman from right here in Dallas. The incident happened on the family ranch west of Austin, where McKay had gone to recover after being shot during an attempt on his life. Talk about a string of bad luck…Or maybe I should say, good luck. He did survive his gunshot wounds, and his fiancée, Cat Dupree, just survived a tornado. What do we have here, anyway—the Six Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman?”
The newscast was over. Jimmy stood up without comment and walked out of the café. Now he knew where McKay had gone. All he had to do was find a way to get there.
Luis Montoya was back in the office. He and most of the other detectives had spent the past thirty-six hours looking for the man who’d been running a meth lab in the back room of a tile factory. The explosion had turned out to be the fault of the men who’d been cooking the meth. Two had died and one was still in the hospital, suffering from third-degree burns over most of his body. They’d finally caught the head of the operation when he tried to sneak into the hospital to see his friend.
But now that was over and he was rereading his notes on the people he’d interviewed regarding Tutuola. After a long review, he decided he wasn’t any closer to solving the murder of Solomon Tutuola than he had been when he’d started.
He’d interviewed the Realtor who’d sold Tutuola the property on which he’d been killed.
He’d interviewed the couple who’d been hired to cook and clean.
He’d talked to the appropriate homicide detective in the Dallas, Texas, police department regarding Tutuola’s connection to convicted murderer Mark Presley.
He did know how Tutuola had come by the burn scars, but the money everyone claimed he’d had was missing, and, Luis suspected, was the reason he’d been killed.
He was at a dead end here in Chihuahua, and what happened next was up to his commander. Either he gave
The redheaded man took another bite of his biscuits and gravy as Angie continued her play-by-play.
“Look. There’s where he comes up the first time. Then he goes back down. They said that older man is his father. He looks so worried. Now the man comes up out of the water, takes a big breath and goes back down for the third time.”
Jimmy wished she would just shut up. They could see and hear for themselves, but Angie was too caught up in the drama to be quiet.
“Now watch! This is where he comes up out of the water and screams. Oh lordy…this just about broke my heart the first time. I thought he’d found the body and couldn’t get it out or something. Then when he walked away, I didn’t know what to think.”
Jimmy took another sip of his coffee and thought, So the guy was having a bad day. Well, welcome to my world.
“He’s a bounty hunter, you know,” Angie said. “I heard them talking about it later. Said the woman he thought was in the pond was his fiancée. She’s a bounty hunter, too.”
Jimmy’s eyes widened. Bounty hunter? Now that he thought about it, the man who’d been in the water looked a little like Wilson McKay.
“Uh…lady, what did you just say?”
Angie turned around, saw who was talking and almost turned her back on him. He smelled real bad; it had been all she could do to serve him. Now he wanted to start a conversation?
“I said the man is a bounty hunter. Got an office right here in Dallas.” “Did they give a name?” Jimmy asked.
“Why? You need bailing out from somewhere?” Jimmy glared. “Do I look like I’m in jail?”
She shrugged. “I can’t rightly say what you look like. I do know you need a bath.”
Before Jimmy could fire back a retort, the news anchor gave him the
answer.
“…McKay, a bail bondsman from right here in Dallas. The incident happened on the family ranch west of Austin, where McKay had gone to recover after being shot during an attempt on his life. Talk about a string of bad luck…Or maybe I should say, good luck. He did survive his gunshot wounds, and his fiancée, Cat Dupree, just survived a tornado. What do we have here, anyway—the Six Million Dollar Man and the Bionic Woman?”
The newscast was over. Jimmy stood up without comment and walked out of the café. Now he knew where McKay had gone. All he had to do was find a way to get there.
Luis Montoya was back in the office. He and most of the other detectives had spent the past thirty-six hours looking for the man who’d been running a meth lab in the back room of a tile factory. The explosion had turned out to be the fault of the men who’d been cooking the meth. Two had died and one was still in the hospital, suffering from third-degree burns over most of his body. They’d finally caught the head of the operation when he tried to sneak into the hospital to see his friend.
But now that was over and he was rereading his notes on the people he’d interviewed regarding Tutuola. After a long review, he decided he wasn’t any closer to solving the murder of Solomon Tutuola than he had been when he’d started.
He’d interviewed the Realtor who’d sold Tutuola the property on which he’d been killed.
He’d interviewed the couple who’d been hired to cook and clean.
He’d talked to the appropriate homicide detective in the Dallas, Texas, police department regarding Tutuola’s connection to convicted murderer Mark Presley.
He did know how Tutuola had come by the burn scars, but the money everyone claimed he’d had was missing, and, Luis suspected, was the reason he’d been killed.
He was at a dead end here in Chihuahua, and what happened next was up to his commander. Either he gave
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