The Salt Maiden by Colleen Thompson

Author:Colleen Thompson [Thompson, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General, Fiction, Romance, Suspense, Romantic suspense fiction, Missing Persons - Investigation
ISBN: 9780843960174
Publisher: Leisure Books
Published: 2007-12-23T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces

Between stars—on stars where no human race is.

I have it in me so much nearer home

To scare myself with my own desert places.

—Robert Frost,

“Desert Places”

Despite the cutting-edge black outerwear, Jay was plenty wet by the time he slid past the sole remaining news van to park beside the courthouse. Using a key on a large, old-fashioned brass ring, he opened the door and slipped inside, hoping to remain unnoticed. But either the news crew was sleeping or had accurately predicted yet another no-comment, for no one came to bother him as he stripped off one bag and plunked the second—full of sodden currency—on top of his desk.

After pulling out the special agents’ numbers, he called and woke Petit, a younger agent who had grown up only an hour outside of Rimrock County. Though he hadn’t played the hometown-boy card too hard, he’d seemed friendlier than the veteran, Tomlin, who had turned out to be even more stiff-necked than he’d seemed at first. After a brief preamble to apologize about the hour, Jay explained the situation as thoroughly as possible.

“Disturbin’ the scene,” said Petit. “That was strictly necessary, was it?”

Jay hesitated, catching the disdainful note in the special agent’s words. Jay guessed he’d been with the feds long enough that this was the kind of amateur-hour fuckup he’d expect from such a small-town yokel. But since Petit didn’t come right out and say so, Jay let it slide and laid out the reasons for his choice.

That got a grunt of acknowledgment, followed by a request that he not handle the evidence, meaning the money, until both agents showed up. “Just so there aren’t any mis-understandin’s later,” Petit added.

Allowing that comment to slide was not an option.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” Jay said. “I’m not planning on stuffing a bundle down my pants. If I had stealing in mind, I never would’ve called you. Unless you think I’m such a hick, I’m too damned stupid to cover up my theft.”

There was a pause before Petit said, “They call me Cowboy in the bureau.” The sourness of his voice indicated he was less than pleased with the handle. “On account of the way I talk and how some smart-ass Houston cop spread it around that I used to ride the bulls in high school. So I could tell you a thing or two about what these federal boys think of rural Texas lawmen. And how I’d hear about it if you did anything that might be misconstrued.”

“Got it,” Jay replied, glad that he’d remembered to take the stray hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and put it in the bag.

“Besides that,” Petit said, reverting to what Jay took to be the bureau’s latest don’t-rile-the-natives manifesto, “we need to be certain that any remaining forensic evidence survives intact.”

Jay knew damned well that any possible forensics had already been hopelessly contaminated, but he decided, at least for now, to ignore the insult.

“We’ll be there in two hours, tops,” Petit told him.

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