Part 46 (2/2)

The sheriff turned to the woman.

'Lupe, tell the professor what you saw.'

'The truck, it had the b.u.mper sticker with that funny word.'

'What funny word?'

'The F-word.'

'The uh, f-u-c-k word?'

Lupe giggled. 'No, not that F-word. The other one.'

'The other F-word ... Fracking?'

'Si. That F-word.'

Lupe pointed at the b.u.mper sticker on Carla's truck that read No Fracking Way.

'That is the b.u.mper sticker. And that is the truck I saw.'

'And that's a twelve-gauge shotgun in her window rack,' the sheriff said.

Book took a moment to process that information. He turned to Carla. She lay stretched out on top of a concrete box, as if sunning herself on a beach.

'Sorry to have to break that news to you, Professor. You want to press charges?'

Book slowly shook his head. 'No. I want to know why.'

The sheriff nodded at Carla in the field. 'Answer's right out there.'

The sheriff and Lupe left. Book walked back to Carla.

'What'd the sheriff have to say?'

'That you shot out our window at the Paisano.'

Her expression served as a confession.

'Why, Carla?'

'I had to keep you in town. So we could learn the truth about Nathan.'

'So you could have your revenge against Billy Bob.'

'Professor, you've been checking up on me.'

'I have.'

'What's wrong with revenge?'

'It's the wrong motive. I'm here for justice.'

'Billy Bob murdered my dad.'

'You lost your civil trial. The jury said he didn't.'

'In Odessa. Billy Bob cut corners on that rig-on safety, on the environment, on everything and everyone. He doesn't give a d.a.m.n about the planet or the people. Only his profits.'

'So you're devoting your life to putting him in prison?'

'Or in a grave.' She paused. 'I hate him.'

'Hate's a hard thing to hold onto.'

He knew. He had held onto his hate for a decade.

'It's all I have left to hold.'

'You used me, Carla.'

'No, I didn't. I helped you. You were wrong, Professor. Nathan's death wasn't an accident. It wasn't a coincidence. If you had left town, you would never have learned the truth. And his killer would have gone free. You wouldn't have had your justice. You should thank me, for keeping you in town.'

'For shooting out our window? You could've hurt someone.'

'With number-eight birdshot? Please. n.o.body likes a whiner, Professor.'

'You lied to me.'

'Not guilty. I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you the whole truth. That doesn't const.i.tute perjury, they said so on Law and Order.'

Book sighed. 'Everyone's a lawyer.'

He stared at Cathedral Rock to the east. That was Carla's connection: she blamed Billy Bob Barnett for her father's death, and she wanted revenge. Book felt no anger toward her; he had had his revenge. The man who had killed his father had been sentenced to death; Book rode the Harley to Huntsville to witness his execution in the death chamber at the state penitentiary. He had looked into the man's eyes from the other side of the gla.s.s part.i.tion and had seen nothing. Only emptiness. Watching that man die, the man who had stuck a gun to his father's head and pulled the trigger, all desire for revenge had drained from his body. All his hate had dissipated. He found no satisfaction in another human's death. An eye for an eye could not bring his father back. But he felt for Carla; she did not yet know that revenge would not fill the void.

'You mad?'

'I should be.'

'That means you're not. Good.'

'Why?'

She pointed at the teepees on the adjacent El Cosmico tract.

'Because I've never f.u.c.ked in a teepee.'

<script>