Roselita leaned down on the hood of her car. “I thought the reason I followed you out here was because you thought that asshole, Rockdale—who shot at me, by the way—could lead us to the Blackwell kid, but that ain’t the truth, is it? I think we both know now that isn’t the reason we went out there.” She pointed a slim finger at Ned. “We didn’t need a buffer out there, either. You wanted to bring your buddy out there to see if he could rattle your Rooster’s cage because you think he killed the old man in the woods out there, and for whatever reason you think he set Ned up to take the fall. You went out there looking for a motive.”
“Rose, wait—”
Roselita held her palms out. She sounded tired. “And you know what else? I don’t give a shit. The only thing I know for sure is that we aren’t any closer to finding this kid than we were before we went out there, so I guess you could say I’m thinking I got played for a sucker.”
“That’s not entirely true, Rose.”
“Oh yeah, which part? About you being more interested in helping your buddy get off a murder rap, or me being a sucker?”
“He lied to us,” Dane said. “Eddie. He lied to us about the boy.”
“When?”
“He said he barely knew them, and I never said anything about William and Arnold’s parents, but he sure as hell spit that out when you got him riled up. He knows them both—a lot better than he tried to lead us to believe. That means he’s hiding something.”
Roselita straightened her back, stretched, and crossed her arms. “Do you think he knows where he is?”
“No, but I think he’s actively looking. Another thing. He said he didn’t know Bobby Turo. That he never heard of him. But during the sparring match with Ned, he was all hopped up and running his mouth about a Bobby-boy Turo. He knows a lot more than he said, Rose. A lot more.”
Roselita clicked her key fob and unlocked the Infiniti. “So what do you want to do? Sit on him and see if the kid or any bad guys show up? We still don’t know anything.”
“That’s exactly what I want to do. I’m thinking he’ll either lead us to William or to Arnold’s killers. Either way, we now know for sure that Eddie is neck-deep in this.”
Ned lit up one of Roselita’s Ultra Lights on the passenger-side seat of Dane’s truck as if he wasn’t listening to their conversation.
“All right, Dane. I’ll run all this up the flagpole with August and see about surveillance at the Farm.” She still wasn’t happy, and it was easy to see her trying to fit pieces together in her brain as she got into her car.
“Hold up, Rose.”
Roselita cranked the car and rolled down the window.
“You said I went looking at Eddie for Tom Clifford’s murder. What’s his motive?”
Roselita looked forward through her windshield. “Dane, I’ve got two rules I live my life by. As long as you don’t break either of those two rules, we may not ever be best friends, but we’ll always get along.”
“And what are those, Roselita?” Dane leaned over and adjusted the AC vent to blow Ned’s smoke out of his face.
“Don’t make a mojito with sour mix—and don’t fuck my old lady.”
“Well, I don’t think there’s ever going to be a problem with either of those.”
Roselita leaned back in her seat and shifted the Infiniti into drive. She looked over the rim of her aviators, past Dane, at Ned. “I’m just saying that maybe Eddie Rockdale goes by the same set of rules.”
“You’re talking out of your ass, Velasquez,” Ned said.
“Sure I am, Ned. Sure I am. But if I’m not, we both know you didn’t make the man a mojito.” Her cell phone rang and she put it to her ear. She told whoever it was to hang on and turned back to Dane. “I’ll catch up with you once you return the sheriff’s prisoner. Because that’s what you’re about to do, right? Return the sheriff’s prisoner?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. I’ll let you know what August says once I check in. I’m going over there to rent a shitty room in that shitty motel.”
“You know you’re more than welcome to stay at my sister-in-law’s trailer. It—”
Roselita held a hand out the window. “Stop right there. I’m good.”
Dane watched Roselita wheel the silver coupe out of the lot and sat in the truck outside the station with Ned. They listened to Eric Church reminisce about summers and Bruce Springsteen on the radio, and watched a few kids across the street smoking cigarettes on the front steps of the bookstore. Dane reached over and turned the stereo up a little to hear George Strait give it away.
“I love that song,” Ned said.
“Yeah, so do I.”
Ned just stared out the window at the brick building. “I don’t get to sit and listen to music that much anymore. Do you remember when that’s all we did? Just trading out cassettes full of songs we recorded off the radio on that stupid boom box of yours?”
“It was Keith’s boom box, but yeah, I remember.”
“I miss those days, Dane.”
“I do, too, Ned.”
They sat there for another few minutes until George turned into Carrie Underwood. She was clearly upset about her man’s infidelity and planned to take out her anger on his truck. Dane turned it down and then clicked it off. It was full dark out now, and Dane was feeling better. The night air felt good, and just sitting there with Ned made him think of better things—better days. Ned lit the last cigarette in the pack and blew the smoke out the window. Dane scratched at his chin. He’d put it off long enough. “Ned—”
“Yeah, man?”
“How long have you been fucking Eddie’s wife?”
Ned didn’t even try to get defensive. He just kept staring at the redbrick wall of the Sheriff’s office. “It’s not like that, Dane.”
“Then tell me what it is like.”
Ned took another drag and held the cigarette loose outside the window, as if now it mattered about smoking in Dane’s truck. “You want me to get out of the truck with this?”
“I want you to answer my question, Ned. I think you owe me at least that much.”
Ned laughed a little and took another drag.
“C’mon, Ned, I’m doing my best to help here. If I’m going to help you, then I need to know all of it. Just tell me. How long has it been going on?”
“Since always, man. Since we met.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. It was love at first sight.” He took another pull of smoke and looked at Dane. “We were just two pieces of the same puzzle. We fit together. I know you can relate to that.” Dane was stunned, but he did understand. “Like you and Gwen, man,” Ned added for emphasis.
“Like me and Gwen,” Dane repeated.
“Yeah.”
Dane repeated it again in his head, Like me and Gwen, and looked in the side mirror of the truck. The kids across the street at Lucky’s were gone. The steps were empty and the streetlights were on. Like me and Gwen, he thought again.
Dane loved hearing Gwen’s name out loud and without apology like that. More often than not, when people brought her up in conversation around Dane, they drowned her name in sympathy. They coated it in a layer of sadness as thick and syrupy as that bullshit Carrie Underwood song he had to stop listening to a minute ago. Gwen’s name made him feel good most of the time. It wasn’t something he needed protection from. Ned knew that, and hearing him say it was like having her there in the truck with them, if only for just a split second. Ned had known her. He knew them—when there was a them—and then the moment was over. She was gone—again. Dane thought back over the timeline. “Ned, you met Lydia in high school. Before I even met Gwen. Are you telling me it’s been going on that long?”