Lone Star on a Cowboy Heart by Marie S. Crosswell

Author:Marie S. Crosswell [Crosswell, Marie S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Aromantic, Asexual, Contemporary, Poly, Romance
Publisher: Less Than Three Press, LLC
Published: 2016-07-26T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sam goes to find Troutman's hideout by himself after he gets off work on Monday afternoon, taking his own unmarked car instead of his unit. Montgomery never saw Troutman, only a blue pick-up truck parked outside the camper that looked like the same one Troutman used to flee the scene of the robbery. Sam wants to confirm that it's the right man hiding out, before he brings the information to his lieutenant's attention.

He follows Montgomery's directions scrawled on a piece of paper ripped from a notepad, taking the various paved and unpaved roads snaking north off Highway 169, slowing the car as he begins to pass through an archway of leafless trees and brush. The branches reach up and crowd out the sky, white and pointy, like the skeletons of men who died with their hands up. Sam worries that this is the only access road to wherever Troutman's parked his camper, but he keeps driving because this is what Montgomery's note tells him to do.

A few minutes onto this dirt path, Sam sees another one forking off into the trees on his right, just wide enough for him to take it without the limbs scraping against the car. He decides to follow the path and see if it provides a view of Troutman's hideout without leading directly to it. Not knowing how close he is to the campsite and wanting to be as undetectable as possible, he inches the car along as slow as he can. The trail curves to the left, toward the main drag and wherever it leads. Sam keeps going until the trail thins out to a walking path. He can see the old steel Airstream through the trees; the car's facing the campsite. He kills the engine, figuring it's better not to risk anyone hearing it, and waits.

He can make out the blue pick-up truck that Willa Rae Troutman confirmed her husband drives, the same truck that Sam saw Joel drive off in the night of the robbery. But a lot of people in the quad-city area drive trucks, and plenty of them are blue or Fords or both.

Sam checks his watch and settles in. He doesn't have anywhere to be tonight, but he doesn't plan on staking out the campsite after dark. He's got about an hour before the sun sets, maybe less. He switches his cell phone onto silent mode and tries not to wish that he had someone with him in the car.

Forty-five minutes pass. He starts to resign to the possibility that it could take hours for anyone to come out of the camper, let alone leave, when he sees him. Troutman, no different than he was the night of the robbery except for several days' worth of facial hair, swings the camper door open on creaky hinges and lumbers down the steps in a pair of work boots. He's lighting up a cigarette as he moves, and he stops a few yards away from the Airstream and just stands there a minute, surveying his surroundings.

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