Forsaken by Sarah Ballance Page B

down?”
    “Maybe there wasn’t any evidence left,” Maverick said. “Maybe he just wanted warning someone might be on to him.”
    “Some warning. Either way, it doesn’t make sense. If there was nothing to hide, why does he need a heads up?” Frowning, Gage picked at a crack in the vinyl covering the steering wheel. They were parked a good hour out of Purvis, headed nowhere except away . They’d stopped for cold drinks to wash away the taste of smoke, at which point Gage swapped the license plate on the truck. Riley hadn’t looked convinced a mere plate switch would keep them off yet another most-wanted list, but when he pointed out the rampant supply of beat-up pickups on the Oklahoma highway system—and the coinciding likelihood they’d never been noticed—she relented to stubborn silence.
    Which was more than he could say for Maverick.
    “We don’t know if there’s anything to hide. A hospital bed is hardly a matter for conviction. My grandma had one in her bedroom for years.”
    “Come on, man. First he’s sneaking into Colt’s hospital room after hours. Then he disappears off the planet—not even his neighbors have seen him—and then we find a gurney in his living room. Which goes up in flames shortly after we pay him a visit? He had some other medical-looking equipment, but I had to dodge flames before I could get nosy. But if you want my wasn’t-born-yesterday opinion, he’s hiding something.”
    Maverick blew a disgruntled breath over the line. “I probably shouldn’t say anything because the last thing you need is encouragement, but I have preliminary reports from the scene—off the record, of course. It looks like he had a motion detector rigged to fixtures packed with something along the lines of Napalm. I’ve seen a similar setup before. Motion detector sends a spark to the wires, which light the fuel. And once it goes, you’re screwed. Firebombs. It’s like putting out a grease fire. Water just spreads it, and by the time the fire department figures out water isn’t helping, the damage to the area is thorough.”
    Maverick had contacts everywhere, but Gage was still impressed. “How did you find out all of that?”
    “It’s my business to stay on top of your shit.” Maverick paused and then spit out a sarcastic laugh. “That, and there was a hit on the tags. My friend with DPS was kind enough to give me a heads up. Needless to say, once I knew you were involved I made a few phone calls.”
    “Don’t suppose you know anyone who can track down Rigby?”
    “You think I’d tell you if I did?”
    “That depends. You want to do this the hard way or the easy way? I’m afraid I don’t have your talent for discretion…”
    Maverick sighed. “The hospital liaison, Genevieve Steele. She hooked up Tom and Colt. If anyone knows a connection between Rigby and paralysis, she’s the one to ask. Her office is in Tehcotah.” He shared the address, his tone wary.
    Gage’s internal celebration at the lead hit a quick snag. “Can she tell me anything?”
    “She’s not a doctor. She’s a volunteer coordinator. I don’t know what she’ll tell you, but there’s only one way to find out.” And Maverick sounded none too pleased about it. “By the way?”
    Gage smiled. “Don’t kill Rigby. Got it.”
    In spite of all she’d seen in the last two days, Riley was genuinely surprised when Gage flashed yet another fake ID at the Sunrise Motel just outside of Tehcotah. He’d tucked his shoulder-length hair under a baseball hat to resemble the photo on the driver’s license, but it was probably for naught, as the kid who gave them a room at the low-rent establishment barely glanced in his direction.
    “Checkout by eleven. Channel seventeen porn’s on the house. You want the good stuff, it’s extra.” The desk clerk didn’t bother to look up as he slapped a key on the counter. It was attached to a lime green key chain advertising a local tattoo parlor.
    “Thanks man.” Gage palmed