He flipped the page. “What’s this?” He referred to a series of lines that crisscrossed each other.
“Beats me.” She shrugged and sighed. “Another symbol we don’t have a clue about. We thought it might be a map of some roads. See the Y here? And here it almost looks like a U-turn that leads back to the main road leading from…well, from wherever it started. Our forensic people actually came up with a few possibilities, but when we checked them out, they were dead ends.”
His expression stilled and he closed the book in a casual move. “We have company.” His low voice snapped her from her calculated musings about the numbers, letters and symbols.
Glancing toward the door she saw three men in uniforms headed their way. Pulling her drink toward her, she relaxed and pasted a friendly smile on her face.
The three men took the table next to Gisella’s and Brock’s booth and the man who was obviously the sheriff leaned back in his chair and adjusted his hat. He placed his right ankle on his left knee and nodded in their direction. “Howdy, folks.”
“Hello,” Gisella answered. “Sheriff?”
“I am. Sheriff Kip Johnston.” He pointed to the man on his left. “Meet Niles Vernon, a Border Patrol agent working out of the Boot Hill border crossing station, and Chris Locke, one of my deputies.”
Gisella offered him a smile. “I’m Ranger Gisella Hernandez,” she said, “and this is Agent Brock Martin with the DEA. I think you two have met before. We were just saying we needed to come over to your office and let me introduce myself.”
Brock nodded his greeting and held out his hand. “Good to see you again, Sheriff.”
The sheriff and Brock shook hands. “Yep, I remember you. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
“I haven’t had any more escapees who headed this way.”
Sheriff Johnston gave a small laugh.
Krista came by and took the men’s order then disappeared again.
Chris Locke settled into his chair then shot them a narrow-eyed look. “So let’s get right to it. What are you in town for? I mean Boot Hill’s so small you’d miss it if you blinked. What brings a Ranger and a DEA agent to our fair town?”
Gisella decided she wasn’t so sure she liked this deputy and focused her attention on the friendlier Niles Vernon and Sheriff Johnston. “We’re here investigating a possible connection with the Lions of Texas. Have you heard of them?”
The sheriff took a swig of his drink before saying, “Nope. Who are they?”
“We believe they’re responsible for a lot of things, the main one being the death of a fellow Ranger. We think our friend found out something about the Lions and they killed him.”
The sheriff winced. “Sorry to hear that.”
Gisella swallowed hard. She always got emotional when she thought about Captain Gregory Pike. She pushed her sadness away and said, “Anyway, we also believe they’re running drugs big time. These drugs are finding their way throughout the state of Texas and Boot Hill is a possible entry point from Mexico for them.”
Chris snorted. “Boot Hill’s not perfect and not crime-free, but we keep the drugs out. If they make it over the border, they get stopped here.” He shook his head. “The drugs spreading through Texas aren’t coming through Boot Hill.”
Instead of commenting, Gisella simply nodded. “What about you, Sheriff? Do you have any reason to believe these people are working out of Boot Hill?”
Before the sheriff could respond, Niles interrupted with an irritated look at Chris. “Regardless of what my buddy here thinks, it’s possible some drugs do get into Boot Hill. But Chris’s right about one thing, it would be mighty hard. We’ve got the Border Patrol station and we police the fence closely with agents and K-9s.”
The sheriff didn’t lose his scowl. He did raise a thoughtful brow. “In spite of Chris’s protests, we all know that in spite of our best efforts, the drugs slip through.”
“I will say that if it’s coming across—and I’m not saying it’s not—it’s coming across on somebody else’s watch,” Niles grunted.
“Not on mine.” Chris rolled his eyes, shrugged then gave a sneer. “And we don’t need some fancy-pants Ranger or DEA agent coming in and stirring up trouble.”
“Cool it, Locke,” Sheriff Johnston ordered softly.
Chris rolled his eyes, sat back and gave his recently delivered food his full attention.
Niles shot them an apologetic look.
Gisella wondered what the deputy’s problem was then decided to ignore it. “So, Sheriff, what do you say we team up and work together? I think if we’re sharing information and backing each other up, we’ll be able to find what we’re looking for a lot faster.”
“Work together, huh?”
“Well, we’re either working together or we’re not. To me the choice is a simple one.”
Sheriff Johnston stroked his chin while Chris Locke looked on. “This town isn’t so friendly to outsiders.”
Gisella felt one side of her mouth lift in a smile. “We noticed. Hopefully, if they see us cooperating with each other, they’ll warm up to us.”
Niles grunted and Chris ignored them.
Brock said, “We need a couple of hotel rooms. Got any suggestions?”
The sheriff smiled. “If you want to stay in Boot Hill, your only option is the Boot Hill Inn. You can walk to it from here if you don’t mind a little hike. They have twenty-two rooms total.”
“Any vacancies?”
“Guess you’ll have to go find out. But yeah, probably. We don’t get a lot of visitors except families needing a place to stay during the holidays. The Christmas rush is over so you’ll probably have your pick of the rooms.” He leaned forward and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “So how long do you figure you’re going to be staying here?”
Gisella firmed her jaw and looked the sheriff in the eye. “As long as it takes.”
THREE
In the hotel office, Brock studied the man behind the counter and wondered vaguely what his story was. He’d been wiping down the counter with a rag when they’d walked in. His nametag read, STEVE.
A white scar cut a path from his forehead, down his right cheek to his chin. Prison tats decorated his fingers and his eyes had a hard glint to them. Gisella’s tense shoulders said she had her guard up, too.
Brock didn’t like the fact that Steve’s eyes had lingered a little long on Gisella’s pretty face, but Brock had to give the man credit. He hadn’t looked at her in any way that could be considered disrespectful. He simply handed over her credit card and room key and said, “Thank you. Glad you’re here.”
Gisella gave him a friendly nod.
Steve said, “There’s two of us who run the front desk. We alternate shifts and cover for each other so you never know who’ll be up front. We only have one maid working right now. We’re not a big-city hotel, so if you need something I’ll do my best to get it to you, but don’t expect to get it right away.” He spoke in a flat monotone as though he didn’t want them there, but couldn’t afford to turn them away.
Brock nodded. “We’ll keep that in mind.”
Gisella said to Brock, “I’m going to step outside and make a phone call while you’re finishing up.”
“I’ll