Riffey felt the old dread filling him. The crazy bastard is complimenting them. When the time came, he would have to do something. But what? He thought.
Laura served them breakfast, but neither she nor her husband ate.
Riffey glanced at the kitchen clock. Ten after nine, less than three hours until The Lion of Allah killed a room full of dignitaries and innocent people. He let his eyes wander around the small, tidy house, looking for something to use as a weapon, and he wished that, somehow, someway, Border Patrol Agent Hunter Kincaid would come through the doors with guns blazing and shoot this insane killer to ribbons. For a brief moment, Riffey thought it was funny that his mind went to Kincaid rather than Sheriff Montoya. He wondered where she was…
CHAPTER 10
Hunter drove to Raymond’s house and saw him sitting on his front porch, getting some morning sun. He was in his rocker, wearing gray cotton sweat pants and a Marfa Shorthorns Football tee shirt. He wore black Crocs on his feet. She parked and walked to the porch, taking a seat beside him.
His face looked drawn, and twenty years older. She said, “How’s your scar?”
Raymond ran his fingers on his sternum, “Itches. They say that’s a good sign.”
“Taking your meds?”
“Yes. I’m being good. Not in a hurry to do this again.”
“Good. Any updates from the doctors?”
“They said I couldn’t run any marathons for the next week.”
“Bastards.” She tapped her fist softly on his shoulder, “Really, what did they say?”
“The quadruple bypass is holding, no leaks. I have damage to the heart muscle, too.?
?? He sighed, “And it is a tossup if I will be able to work again. They have to do additional tests after I heal up some more.”
Hunter felt her heart sink. “You may not get to come back to work?”
“What they said. Well, what the cardiologist actually said was ‘Iffy’. I hate it when they use technical terms.”
“Oh, Raymond.”
“Don’t go getting all emotional on me, Miss Hunter Kincaid. You’re my partner, and I damn sure don’t have a wuss for a partner.”
Hunter said, “I just…”
“Quit it.”
“Okay, okay. Man, you get testy when they mess with your ticker, huh?”
“That’s because I’m constipated, too.”
“I can see how that would agitate the situation.”
“Don’t push, they said. How am I gonna eliminate if I can’t push?”
“There’s always a two-gallon enema.”
“Hah! You’re on their side.”
“Only trying to help.”
They sat in silence for ten minutes, then Raymond asked, “What’s been going on at work?”
“I found some more sign of those dope smugglers again. That makes half a dozen locations we’ve got marked.”
“Are they coming regular? Do you have their pattern down?”