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who did odd jobs and claimed he’d seen Beau
    McGarrity crouch in the azaleas and shoot his wife.
    That was when her chief of police got suspicious and
    asked the Texas Rangers to investigate. Jack unraveled
    Alice’s story within a week. She’d found her drifter, paid
    him, then coached, threatened and cajoled him into lying.
    Jack refused to look the other way. Alice reluctantly
    admitted to fabricating a witness and plea-bargained
    herself from a third-degree felony to a Class A misde-
    meanor, then settled into state prison to serve her full
    one-year sentence.
    As a result of her official misconduct—and incom-
    petence—the murder of Rachel McGarrity remained an
    open, if cold, case. Jack was convinced there was more to
    Alice Parker’s story, but she’d kept silent all these months.
    And now she’d served her time and was a free woman.
    A week after he’d finished the Alice Parker investi-
    gation, Susanna had headed for Boston. Jack didn’t be-
    lieve it was a coincidence.
    “She’s not on parole,” Sam reminded him. “She can
    go anywhere, do anything, so long as she doesn’t break
    the law.”
    Jack nodded. “Let’s hope she puts her life back to-
    gether.”
    “She wanted to be a Ranger. That won’t happen now.”
    But they both knew it wouldn’t have happened any-
    way. The Texas Rangers were an elite investigative unit
    within the state’s Department of Public Safety. There

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    Carla Neggers
    were just over a hundred in the entire state, generally
    drawn from other DPS divisions, not small-town police
    departments.
    Jack turned away from the patio doors, hearing the
    closing music to Sense and Sensibility coming from the
    family room. “Alice Parker was in over her head as a pa-
    trol officer.”
    “Maybe not as much as we think. Maybe little Alice
    wanted us to believe she’s incompetent. Maybe she did
    it—maybe she killed Rachel McGarrity herself.” Sam
    drank more of his cold tea, obviously giving this idea
    serious thought. “A year in prison on a plea bargain
    beats the hell out of a lethal injection for premeditated
    murder. Admit to incompetence and produce a phony
    witness, draw attention away from what you really
    did—shoot a woman in the back in her own driveway.”
    Jack shook his head. “No motive, no evidence, and
    I don’t think it’s what happened. Alice knew the victim.
    She knew the husband. That’s one of the hazards of
    small-town police work. She had the whole case figured
    out in her own head and thought she could make it all
    come together, put Beau McGarrity in prison and maybe
    get a little recognition for herself.”
    “Didn’t work out that way, did it? Dreams die hard,
    Jack.” Sam set his tea glass in the sink. “Watch your back.”
    Jack knew this was the real reason Sam had come to
    his house on New Year’s Day, not to rehash the Alice
    Parker investigation, but to communicate his misgivings
    about what Alice Parker might do now that she was
    free. Sam Temple had good instincts. He’d graduated
    from the University of Texas and joined the Department

    The Cabin
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    of Public Safety, earning his master’s degree in crimi-
    nal justice on the side. He was tough-minded, decisive
    and naturally suspicious, but also fair. People liked
    Sam—they’d probably make him governor of Texas one
    day, if he ever decided to leave law enforcement.
    He was frowning at the kitchen counter. “What the
    hell is that?”
    Jack followed his gaze. “An espresso machine. The
    girls gave it to me for Christmas.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “Come on, Sam, you know what an espresso ma-
    chine is.”
    He grinned. “You start drinking lattes, Lieutenant
    Galway, and they’ll throw you right out of the Rangers.”
    But he turned serious again, calm. “If Alice Parker tries
    to stick her nose back into the McGarrity case or come
    after you—”
    “We’ll find out. She’s not stupid. She knows she has
    to put this behind her and move on.” Jack started