Contrasted with her black dress, her green eyes with their multicolored flecks looked especially brilliant. They were watering just a little, but there was a desperate fierceness to them. I saw what she needed me to say.

"Maia Lee was right. I just wasn't listening."

Lillian's expression rearranged itself when I said Maia's name-the emotional equivalent of a strategic withdrawal. "She was right about what?"

"About you, and why you needed me back."

Lillian looked even more uncertain. "Does that mean-"

I shook my head. "No. I'm not going back to her. San Antonio is home."

"Then what?"

I rubbed my hands, trying to get some feeling into them. "I think there's something else you're afraid of. Something even more scary than turning out like your father."

Her face was already closing up, preparing for the blow. "What would that be?"

"Turning out like your mother-an old woman with a shoe box full of photos of a former lover who you can't get rid of. I think you're terrified of becoming that person."

Lillian stood up, hugging her arms. She wouldn't look at me.

"The hell with you, if that's what you think."

She said it with as much coldness as she could muster, but her expression was the same as it had been when Dan Sheff had lied to her in the hospital room- concealed relief.

"You couldn't let go of me because of the secret you were carrying around," I said. "Now for the first time, that secret is gone. You've got to either try reconstructing our relationship so you don't have to deal with a ghost, or end it for good and hope you can move on to something totally new. Either way, you're terrified that it won't work, that I'll keep poisoning your life."

She spoke with surprising softness. "Two weeks ago you were sure we'd still be perfect together. You were willing to come back and try after all these years."

"Yes."

"You're telling me now you're going to shut out the possibility? You're so sure it wouldn't work?"

"Yes," I lied. "I'm sure."

She stared at me, looking for chinks in the armor. I didn't let her find any. Slowly, the tightness in her shoulder muscles relaxed.

"All of that," she said softly, "just for you to leave me again."

She waited for a response. It was hard, it was very hard, but I let her have the final word.

Then she turned and walked out of the gazebo, down to her mother's empty black Cadillac. It was much too big, much too formal a car for her, I thought. But as she drove off, she looked as if she were learning to be at home behind the wheel.

I took my suit coat off, then walked down to the corner of Austin Highway and Eisenhower, letting the sun turn me into a walking water fountain while I waited for the bus. There was a vendor on the corner selling fresh fruit next to black velvet paintings of Aztec Warriors and Bleeding Jesuses. I guess I looked like I needed something. He smiled crookedly and handed me a free slice of watermelon. I thanked him for not giving me one of the paintings instead.

"Hey, vato," someone said behind me.

I turned and saw Ralph leaning out the window of his maroon Lincoln and grinning like a fiend.

"You lose your wheels, man?"

I shrugged. "More like I lost Jess's. They're denying me visiting rights to the VW."

Ralph laughed and showed me a bottle of Herradura Anejo and a six-pack of Big Red.

"You still need friends like these?" he asked.

"Only more than anything," I told him, and I got in the car.

Dedication.

To Haley Michael Riordan, bienvenido and a good beginning

Acknowledgments.

Many thanks to Glen Bates of the ITS Agency, Officer Sandy Peres of the San Antonio Police Department, and Corporal McCully of the Bexar County Sheriff's Department for their insights, Shelley Singer for her counsel, the Presidio Hill School gang for their support, Erika Luckett for her advice on the finer points of Spanish, Gina Maccoby and Kate Miciak for their help bringing to print the final draft, Jim Glusing for his stories, Lyn Belisle for her encouragement, and especially Becky Riordan, without whom none of it would have happened.

Bantam Books by

Rick Riordan

Big Red Tequila

The Widower's Two-Step

The Last King of Texas

The Devil Went Down to Austin

Cold Springs

Southtown

Mission Road

Rebel Island

About the Author.

RICK RIORDAN is the author of the #1 bestselling young adult series Percy Jackson and The Olympians and the young adult series The Kane Chronicles, starting in 2010 with The Red Pyramid. He has published seven Tres Navarre thrillers: Big Red Tequila, winner of the Shamus and Anthony Awards; The Widower's Two-Step, winner of the Edgar Award; The Last King of Texas; The Devil Went Down to Austin; Southtown; Mission Road; and Rebel Island. He is also the author of the acclaimed thriller Cold Springs. Rick Riordan lives with his family in San Antonio, Texas.

Visit the author's website at www.rickriordan.com.

If you enjoyed Rick Riordan's BIG RED TEQUILA, you won't want to miss any of the novels in this sizzling, award-winning series.

And turn the page for a preview of Rick's Tres Navarre mystery, THE DEVIL WENT DOWN TO AUSTIN. Look for it at your favorite bookseller available from Bantam Books.

THE.

WENT DOWN TO AUSTIN.

RICK RIORDAN.

Date: Wed, 07 June 2000 19:53:16-0500

From: X-Mailer: Mozilla 3.01 Gold (Macintosh; I; PPC) To: Subject: drowning The first time I knew I would kill? I was six years old.

I'd snuck some things from the kitchen-vials of food coloring, Dixie cups, a pitcher of water. I was in my bedroom mixing potions, watching how the dyes curl in the water.

That doesn't sound like much, I know. But I'd spilled a few cupfuls onto the carpet My fingers were stained purple. It was enough to give the Old Man an excuse.

He came in so quietly I didn't hear him, didn't know he was standing over me until I caught his smell, like sweet smoked beef.

He said something like, "Is this what we clean the house for? We clean the house so you can do this?"

Then I realized water was running in the bathroom. I remembered what my friend had said.

I tried to apologize, but the Old Man caught my wrists, dragged me backward, using my arms as a harness.