Page 79 of The Gift
She leaned in to him, resting against the one steady thing in her world. “I never want to touch him again.”
“Done.” He stroked her hair gently. “What else?”
Her voice dropped. “For this to be over.”
“I want that too. Which is why we’re heading into the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. You up for it?”
Her head fell back, registering his concern when she searched his face. “I am,” she murmured. “As long as you’re with me.”
Chapter 23
It was after midnight when the GPS led them off the highway and onto a narrow two-car road, cutting through the Hill Country. The pavement thinned before changing to gravel. Cedar and scrub oak closed in, swallowing sound and their high beams.
The lake appeared without warning, a black sheet under a slender moon without a trace of turquoise. As the SUV eased down a sloping drive, the headlights swept over wood siding, a narrow dock, and limestone glowing pale along the bank.
From the back seat, Erica said with zero doubt, “That’s it.”
Coop studied the structure. No lights inside or out. The driveway empty. No signs of life.
He killed the engine. “Wait here.”
“Works for me,” she said without a sliver of disappointment. “That place looks like Michael Myers could pop out at any second.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” O’Reilly muttered.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “but you’re coming with me.”
Both doors slammed a second apart. The door locks clicked immediately after, Erica beating him to it.
Their boots crunched on the gravel as they approached the porch. O’Reilly let him take point.
“You both watch too much TV,” Coop muttered, weapon already in hand. “And your paranoia is rubbing off.”
He tested the door. It was locked. No surprise.
He knocked anyway. “Texas Rangers.”
Only crickets and a distant owl answered.
He glanced at O’Reilly. “Warrant covers forced entry?”
“As you requested,” he said, already stepping aside, weapon in hand.
Coop drove his boot below the knob. The frame splintered inward, dry wood cracking loudly across the yard, scaring birds from the trees.
They entered fast. Clear left. Clear right.
“Try the light.”
“Got it.” A click, a hum, and a single dim bulb hummed on overhead, casting shadows across the small room.
It was as rustic inside as it was out. Cheap couch, a folding table, a small desk by the window, and no electronics. A counter separated a tiny, bare kitchen with no appliances.
“Not exactly a home away from home,” O’Reilly observed drily.
There were only two other doors. One led to a cramped bathroom. The other led to a bedroom with an unmade bed and a nightstand. The place was spartan, impersonal, but lived in.
They searched, looking in drawers, cabinets, and under furniture. Coop lifted the mattress.
