Enrique, how do you suppose we can convince her?’ ‘Eva Marquez, isn’t it?’ Enrique mused. ‘Your son is Diego Marquez.’ ‘Yes,’ Eva said guardedly. Constance, clutching the shawl around her more for comfort than for modesty, wanted to cry a warning. That bantering tone was too familiar. She feared more for Eva than she did for herself just then. ‘Diego has a family, I believe,’ Enrique said to Rob. ‘A wife, and a daughter, no?’ ‘I believe you are correct, Enrique. Marcella and Esperanza.’ Rob’s smile was its most charming. ‘It would be a terrible shame if anything were to happen to them, wouldn’t it? If little Esperanza were to replace Constance in our games, perhaps.’ Eva swore at him in Spanish, her tone more of fearful desperation than of anger. They laughed, but Rob’s blue eyes were stormy, serious. ‘Hear me, woman,’ he said when the laughter ended. ‘If you breathe a word of this to my father or to anyone else, your family will pay. We’ll take your son’s wife, both of us, and. ‘So what can I tell you sheriff?’ She was all sober and very serious now, this was their bedroom and she didn’t seem to appreciate having it invaded by law men. ‘When did all this start with Waylon?’ Harley had listened as she told Earl Ray all that had happened from the very start, keeping out the more personal details, but telling how he had tried to grope her that Sunday, and been pissed off when she turned him down several times for dates when he was well aware that she and Harley were together. She told him about Dean finding the whiskey bottles and the phone calls, and the day he had slapped her in the grocery store parking lot. Then she told him how Waylon had been parking across the road for the last three or four days and watching as she came out to check the mail, then driving off once she was back in the house. She described the car and repeated every thing Waylon had said to her. ‘When Harley was shot, what made you so sure it was Waylon who did it, he’s made a few.
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