Free No Escape by Mary Burton Page B

her driveway early.
    She rubbed her hands together. ‘You and Lara ready for the big day? T minus six days and counting.’
    Jim grinned. ‘About as ready as you can get. She’s been so busy shooting pictures for a new summer exhibit that she’s barely taken time for the fitting.’
    ‘I’ve seen the dress, and it fits her perfectly. She’ll be stunning.’
    Pride burned in Jim’s gaze. ‘I’ve not one bit of doubt. I hear you’re getting together with her and Cassidy tonight.’
    She’d totally forgotten. Damn. ‘That’s right. Seven. A vegetarian cantina in Austin.’
    ‘Try not to get too wild and crazy at this bachelorette party.’
    ‘It’s not me you have to worry about,’ Jo said. ‘It’s Cassidy.’
    ‘And I’m counting on you to be the levelheaded one that says no. Lara’s too nice.’
    ‘I promise.’
    The forensic techs unloaded the ground penetrating radar, which looked much like a push mower with large wheels and a computer screen mounted on the handle. At first, progress was slowgoing, guiding the device through the muck, but the technicians soon had the machine past the line of police cars and worked their way toward what remained of the barn.
    Brody and the Rangers moved closer to the search site. Jo straightened, trying to work the kinks from her back. As much as she wanted peace for the victims’ families, a big part of her hoped Smith had been lying. Logic suggested that the summons to West Livingston, the lies about the graves, and all his mind games were intended to stir trouble for trouble’s sake.
    The slow and meticulous process of pushing the GPR in a gridlike fashion began, and Jo was left with the Rangers to stand and watch the process.
    The barn had all but collapsed on itself though stubborn chips of red paint still clung to grayed and weather-ravaged boards that lay in a heap on the ground. Tall weeds peppered the land around the barn’s old footprint and had woven their way up through the boards. In five years there’d be no trace of the place.
    Across the field Brody stood, his hands on his hips, as he watched the technicians work. Her mother would call her a fool for saying this, but she could see that he’d changed in fourteen years. He wasn’t the swaggering baseball player with a quick story or a joke. He was a serious man. Hard to be a Marine and a Ranger, witness what they did, and not grow up.
    He’d been the lead for the human trafficking case last year. She’d watched the news, and camera crews caught a glimpse of Brody leading a twelve-year-old girl out of a storage shed. The girl had been crying and filthy, covered in weeks of grime. And she’d been wearing Brody’s jacket. He’d had his arm draped protectively around her thin shoulders, as a father would his own child.
    She never stopped to ask if he was married now. He wasn’t wearing a wedding band but many cops didn’t. The less the bad guys knew about you, the better. Picturing him with a wife and children sent a flush of embarrassment racing up her neck and face. He’d been frozen in time for her these last fourteen years. She’d always pictured him surrounded by cheerleaders or, with her studying, trying to find a reason why he should care about Shakespeare. Or children. But because she couldn’t picture it didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
    Emotion she’d not expected or wanted rose up in her, tightening her chest. Made sense he’d move on with his life. Most everyone had. Except her.
    ‘I think we found something,’ the technician called.
    She shook off the sting of emotion and watched as Brody, Jim and Santos walked toward the GPR. The technician pointed to the screen and then at the ground, nodding his head sideways as if he were as surprised as everyone else.
    The technician placed an orange flag in the ground and continued pushing the GPR over the soggy earth. Ten minutes later he raised his hand, indicating another hit. Another ten minutes and another hit. Three bodies. Just as