She tapped the side of her nose. “I don’t have all the details, but I’m guessing they’re not gonna stopwith his father. He’s got full immunity, so I’m guessing he’s agreed to testify against everyone.”
I was proud of the work I’d done to ensure that the Travis family could no longer flood Austin’s streets with dangerous drugs, but the process had been frustratingly slow. Every time we knocked back a facet of their organization, another one popped up days later to take its place. I wasn’t a fan of Jesse going free, but I understood that it was a good trade-off.
“What are the odds Jesse lives to testify?” I asked, rubbing my chest.
“The Texas Rangers have him, so pretty good.” She gave me a crooked smile. “As long as he doesn’t do anything stupid like tell someone where he’s staying.”
I shook my head. “He’s way too smart for that.”
“Anyway. You still heading out to Lake Buchanan for Christmas?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Yep. I’ve already got my bag in the car.”
“You don’t have to do the holiday alone, you know.”
Ronnie could be a bit of a hard ass, but she was also the kind of person who held a “widows and orphans” Christmas dinner every year for those who didn’t have family. Despite her concern, I wasn’t going to be some sad sack on Christmas, mourning my failed marriage. Instead, I was gonna sit on my grandparents’ deck, stare at the water, get drunk as fuck, and decide whether this was the life I still wanted for myself.
Because you don’t want a job that requires setting aside your empathy, you big softie.
Shut. Up.
I wasn’t about to tell Ronnie any of that until I’d decided for myself.
“Thanks for the offer,” I said, genuinely grateful, “but a little solitude will do me good.”
“Alrighta. Just be safe.” Her eyes took on a mischievous twinkle. “I’m sure you heard about the big blizzard set to hit the Texas Hill Country this weekend.”
I snorted, then we both broke. The entire concept ofTexas snowwas laughable for so many reasons.
Ronnie had moved here from Boston, and it baffled her how any hint of a flurry precipitated an apocalyptic run on the grocery stores down here. Lord help us if a whisper of ice hit the road. Sure, we had the occasional snowpocalypse, but we weren’t due another one of those for fifteen years, at least.
The real joke was the fact that, despite this being a colder-than-average winter, the current weather was sixty-five and sunny.
“I’ll pack my snow tires,” I cracked.
“Tell you what,” she said, checking her phone, “if you’ve already got all your paperwork done, then go ahead and take off now before the traffic makes everything miserable.”
I sent her a salute. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Two minutes later, I was pulling out of the department parking lot and into the sunshine with my windows rolled down, my sleeves rolled up, and my favorite playlist blaring. I still hit some traffic, butRonnie had done me a solid. Soon enough, I hit the rural highway, letting my hand ride the wind as I headed northwest toward Highland Lakes.
My mind wandered, as it often did, to the fact that Grandma had passed just as her mountain laurel was blooming, and Grandpa had loved her so much that he went just a few weeks later, right in time for the bluebonnets.
As I made my regular stop at the ancient country store I’d been going to since I was a kid, I wondered if I’d ever find someone to love as much as they’d loved each other.
By the time I hit the road again, the day was still bright but accompanied by an edge of chill. I rolled up the windows, cranked the playlist, and let the faded two-lane road carry me across the dammed reservoirs, the water glinting like shards of golden glass, firing off memories of fishing and water skiing and campfires by the shore.
A few miles on, I slowed at my grandpa’s handmade blink-and-you-miss-it marker, easing onto the old caliche path that rattled beneath the tires until the wooden cabin of my childhood came into view.
I got out of my truck and took a moment to enjoy this little slice of land. The house shared a heavily treed small inlet cove off Lake Buchanan with three other families, and those homes were rarely occupied outside of summer. It was lonesome out here, but picturesque as hell.
A gust of wind interrupted my reverie, and Ishivered in my cotton button-down and thin slacks. Checking my phone, I realized that in the time it took me to get out here, the temperature had dropped from sixty-five to forty-five and was still falling.
Hell, maybe the weatherman was right. We might get a dusting after all.
The sharp wind gave me goose bumps and got me moving. I quickly grabbed my duffel and the grocery bags, plus the handle of vodka I’d purchased at the liquor store on the way in. I was fully committed to my drunken weekend, and since it was fucking Russia out here with that wind chill, I congratulated myself for my sound decision-making.
4
