AS WE COME out of the casino, we spot a woman walking ahead of us through the parking lot, wearing a white blouse and a puffy black skirt over dark hose—the work uniform of a casino employee, I assume. The woman has a slight limp and it dawns on me who she is. Apparently Ava is one step ahead of me.
“Isabella?” Ava says loud enough for the woman to hear.
Isabella Luna, the woman we believe might have been the first eagle feather victim, turns around and greets us with a puzzled expression. I’d forgotten she worked at the restaurant inside the casino.
Recognition fills her face after a brief moment of confusion.
“Hi, Ava,” she says, stopping so we can approach. “What are y’all doing here?”
“Working on a case.”
“The missing girls who disappeared on the solstice, like me?”
“No,” Ava says. “Another one.”
“I guess y’all are busy, aren’t you?”
“Busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest,” Carlos says, and this makes Isabella smile.
“Guys,” Ava says, “can I talk to Isabella alone for a minute?”
Carlos and I let her. We’re in a hurry, but we also know this conversation could be important.
“We’ll bring the truck around,” I say.
A minute later, Carlos and I drive up to where the two women are talking. They’re chatting like old friends. I’m antsy to get going, but I know Ava must be feeling the same way. She wouldn’t linger like this if she didn’t have a good reason.
“How are you holding up?” I ask Carlos, remembering that he spent the whole day driving from Houston to El Paso, and he’s been busy with me ever since. “You didn’t have dinner, did you?”
“I’m okay,” he says. “Who needs food when you’ve got adrenaline?”
My eyes drift to the clock on the dash. It’s just after 3:00 a.m. Carlos checks his phone and comments that the battery is dead.
“Shit,” I say aloud, remembering that I never called Megan to tell her I wouldn’t be back tonight.
I pull out my phone and debate whether to call or text. Even if she was trying to stay up for me, I’m sure she’s drifted off to sleep by now.
I’m a terrible boyfriend, I text, hoping the sound of the phone doesn’t wake her and she gets it in the morning. Carlos and I got busy working on a case. I don’t know when I’ll be finished.
I send the text and pause for a moment considering whether I should write a follow-up message. I type, By the way, I’m staying a Texas Ranger. Probably until I die. I hope you’re okay with that.
But before I can press Send, my phone starts ringing.
It’s Megan.
“Did I wake you?” I ask.
“I’m a night owl,” she says. “I’m usually just getting home from work about now.”
I tell her I can’t talk long and apologize again for not contacting her earlier.
“That’s okay,” she says, “I’m just grinning from ear to ear that you called yourself my boyfriend.”
I hadn’t even realized I’d done it. I’m glad she can’t see me now because I can feel the blood rushing to my head.
“I’m going to change my Facebook profile right now,” she quips.
Outside the windshield, Ava gives Isabella a hug and then heads toward the truck. My phone beeps in my ear, and I see that it’s Ryan Logan calling me.
“I better go,” I say to Megan. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“I take it you’re not hanging up your hat?” Megan says.
“Is that okay?” I ask, wondering if she was hoping I would quit for good. Willow would have been happy if I’d quit, I’m sure.
“It’s fine with me,” Megan says. “You look damn fine when you’re all gussied up in your hat and badge.”
Carlos scoots over and Ava slides in next to him. I tell Megan again that I need to go.
“Be careful,” Megan says, and then adds with exaggerated emphasis, “boyfriend.”
I try to switch over to the call from Ryan Logan, but I’ve missed him. I consider calling him back, but before I can mention that he called, Ava says, “You know we don’t really need to drive. It’s just right over there.”
She points through the windshield. In the gloom of the streetlights, the dark building with boarded-up windows is visible from where we are.
“Well, we’re already in the truck,” I say, shifting into gear. “Might as well drive over.”
“What did you and Isabella talk about?” Carlos asks Ava as I drive.
“She’s agreed to let me interview her again,” Ava says. “Just me. I think I might be able to get her to open up if it’s just the two of us.”
“Excellent work,” Carlos says. “It was probably a mistake for Rory and me to be there the first time. Maybe what she needs is to talk to a fellow Tigua. And a woman.”
“And a friend,” I add, regretting that I shot down Ava’s original idea of talking to her one-on-one.
We don’t have time to talk anymore. I’m pulling up to the old community center already.
And I’ve forgotten all about calling Ryan Logan back.