I stared at my fingers, folded across my knees. He was right, of course. And if he was this mad at me now, how would he feel when I revealed what I knew about Kenny and Camilla?

“So, this person who was chasing you—”

“—People,’’ I said. “I left Maddie’s house chasing one car. Then another car came out of nowhere and started chasing me. I’m certain the two were linked.’’

“That remains to be seen. But you’re positive someone was shooting from the vehicle behind you?’’

“Yes.’’ I pointed to the brush-heavy cutoff. “My Jeep’s through there. You can see for yourself.’’

“I intend to.’’

He eased the car over the cattle grate, and we bounced for a while without speaking. “Good thing you brought an SUV,’’ I ventured.

He gave me a curt nod, vein still throbbing.

Pointing out the windshield, I indicated where the cattle trail intersected the potholed drive. “That’s where I think he got stuck. I could hear the tires spinning in the sand.’’

The car, of course, was gone now. The driver likely had help getting unstuck.

I continued giving Carlos directions. He rolled to a stop, and parked a short distance from my Jeep. The gate was dented and bowed out, caught in my front bumper. If I’d have been going much faster, I might have driven right through it. We got out of the SUV, and I stood by while Carlos sprayed himself with insect repellent.

“Mind if I use that?’’

He tossed me the bug spray. “It’s a free country.’’ The can landed in the dirt.

He pulled on a pair of gloves and went to examine the Jeep. We both were being careful to try to preserve any evidence that might prove useful. Shoeprints or fingerprints. Discarded trash or cigarette butts. Hair or a shred of fabric. He crouched to take a closer look at the tires.

“Looks like he used a knife,’’ he said.

Now seemed as good—or bad—a time as any to confess. “I might know something about that.’’

Carlos barely uttered a word as I told him about the swingers’ club at the golf course and the collar and knife I’d found on Maddie’s door.

“You took it?’’

I nodded.

“I wish you hadn’t done that.’’

“Me, too.’’

“That’s evidence, now gone. What possessed you?’’

“I didn’t want Maddie to see it.’’

He raised his eyes, consulted the clouds. I had the feeling he was counting to five. “I know Maddie is a bit prudish, but she’s a grown woman. She’s probably heard about such things before,’’ he finally said.

He still didn’t hold the piece he needed to have the puzzle make sense. Reluctantly, I pulled the note from my pants pocket. “This is what I found with the knife and the rest stuck to Maddie’s door. I’m sorry; my fingerprints are on it.’’

“Of course they are.’’

He read it silently, his eyes widening. Then, he read it aloud, articulating every word:

“‘Kenny’s a murderer. He must pay for his crime. Try to get him off, and someone in this family dies.’’’

I waited for him to say something. He just kept staring at the note.

“Remember when I told you Kenny was cheating on Maddie? The person he was cheating with was Camilla.’’

The pulsing vein looked ready to burst right through Carlos’s skin.

_____

The ride back to town felt like it unfolded in slow motion. Carlos was so angry, I could almost feel heat radiating off his body. I tried to explain. He stared out the windshield at the road—jaw clenched, knuckles white on the steering wheel. Finally, he turned to give me a glare—quick, but singeing.

“You deliberately withheld information.’’

“Only until I could tell Maddie. I didn’t want her to find out about Kenny by reading in the Himmarshee Times you’d arrested her husband on suspicion of murder.’’

A beat-up car in front of us traveled at twenty-five miles an hour under the speed limit. Carlos pulled past as the driver nervously regarded the marked SUV in his rear-view mirror.

“The issue here is trust.’’ He glanced at me. “I have to be able to trust you. Right now, I don’t. You lied to me. You compromised my investigation. You compromised my job.’’

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you everything. Besides, why is all this on me?’’ I asked. “Maybe if I felt I could trust you, I would have told you about Kenny. I didn’t want to test you though; make you decide between my family and a convenient suspect.’’

His grip tightened on the wheel.

“We all know how well that turned out in the past,’’ I added.

“Coño, Mace!’’ He spit out the Cuban cuss word. “Are we never going to forget that incident with your mother?’’

“You mean the incident when you moved up from Miami, thought you knew everything, and tossed Mama in jail?’’

“When I thought I knew everything? Isn’t that the frying pan calling the pot black?’’

Now probably wasn’t the time to comment on his grasp of popular sayings. “I don’t think I know everything,’’ I muttered.

“No, you don’t think you do. You’re positive you do. And that’s what keeps getting us in trouble. Well, this is my job. My life. And you keep sticking your nose into it, thinking you know best.’’

“It’s my life, too, Carlos. This is my family.’’

He put a hand to his forehead; squeezed that spot above the bridge of his nose where his headaches began. “Do you hear us? Each of us says ‘my.’ My life. My job. My family. Are we ever going to say ‘our’? Will two people who feel so separate ever be able to build a life together?’’

His voice was quiet. He didn’t sound angry; just resigned. I thought about his question. I didn’t know how to answer it. Instead, I turned my head to look out the window. When we passed the livestock auction on the outskirts of town, I finally spoke.

“Could you drop me at Mama’s?’’

“Whatever you say.’’

With my hands on my lap, I wiggled the engagement ring off my finger. When he pulled up at Mama’s curb, I opened the door and got out. “The answer to your question is no.’’ I stood on the street, leaning into the car.

Confusion settled on his face. I held out my hand, palm open. The ring winked in the morning light.

“No, we cannot build a life together.’’ I pushed the ring toward him. “We do seem too separate.’’

He stared at the ring, making no move to take it from my hand. “Close the door, Mace. Your family’s waiting. I have to get to work.’’

Yanking his cell phone from his pocket, he sped away without a backward glance. I watched him go. In my sweating palm, I clutched our engagement ring. Was the promise it symbolized now broken?

forty-four

“Was that your handsome fiancé I just saw, peeling out of here like Dale Earnhardt at Daytona, God rest his soul?’’ Mama stepped off her front stoop and peered down the street. “How’d you make him mad this time, Mace?’’

If only she knew. “I didn’t do anything.’’

She tilted my chin so she could look in my eyes. “You’re not a good liar.’’

I leaned against the wall to kick off my work boots at her front door. Last time I visited, I tracked a smear of possum poop across her peach-colored carpet. I thought she was going to ban me for life from Pizza Night.

Mama rubbed at a dab of dirt on the door jamb where I’d propped my hand. I pretended I didn’t see her rolling her eyes.

“Who’s here?’’ I asked.

“Me, Sal, Marty, and Teensy, of course.’’ She smiled down at the dog, prancing around her ankles. He gave a little yip.

“So,’’ she said, “is the engagement off?’’

I’m sure my face registered my surprise. How did she read minds like that?

Mama pointed at my left hand. The ring finger was bare. I patted the pocket of my jeans; felt the prongs on the diamond through the denim fabric.

“I took it off to spread some mulch at the park,’’ I said.

“Sure you did.’’

Marty poked her head out the front door. “Did you tell Mace about Kenny?’’

Mama aimed a pointed look at my ring-less finger. “Don’t think you’ve heard the last from me. We’ll get to Carlos and you later.’’