by Carolina Mac
“Wondering if it was too early to call Mist.”
“Six fuckin thirty? Damn right it is. She don’t get up until eight-thirty, quarter to nine, cause she’s a night owl. Stays up late studying her cards and doing woo woo shit.”
“See,” Blaine hollered. “See, you know that, but I don’t. That’s why I’m an insensitive asshole.”
“Sure,” said Farrell with a chuckle, “I’ll give you that. You’re an asshole. But you’re always good to Misty.”
Blaine tapped his finger on the table. “I give her stuff, and promise her stuff, but I barely know her. That’s what I’m realizing.”
“She’s hard to know. Deep and quiet. Her thoughts are buried in that ‘other’ world a lot of the time.”
“I need to find out things about her,” said Blaine, “What she likes and doesn’t like. Music, art, jewelry, shit like that.” He continued to ramble on until his cell rang.
Farrell stood up and slogged to the island for coffee.
“Blackmore.”
“Ranger Blackmore, this is Michael Fogarty. I’m making arrangements for my Daddy and I wondered if you could tell me if the autopsy has been done. I need a time frame.”
“Yes, the autopsy has been done, sir. The funeral home y’all are using can make arrangements to pick your father up any time today.”
“Okay, thank you. Has anything turned up in the investigation?”
“Yes. We’re working on some solid information and we should know more by the end of the day.”
“Does that mean you know who murdered my father?”
“We are very close to knowing that.”
“But you can’t talk about it while the investigation is ongoing and all that crap they say on TV, right?”
“Why don’t I call you when we have the suspects in custody, Mr. Fogarty?”
“Are there more than one?”
“Yes, there are but I can’t elaborate.”
“If you could call me when you know more, I’d appreciate it. Not that it will change anything, but my father was a gentle person and he didn’t deserve a violent death.”
“No. He certainly didn’t,” said Blaine. “I’d be happy to call when we have more facts, and could you let me know about the service? Time and place?”
“I will, and one more thing, if you don’t mind.”
“Go ahead.”
“I’ve lost track of Bart Townsend’s address and phone number. He was closest to Daddy and I want to talk to him.”
“I have that here in my phone. I’ll send it to you.”
East Ender’s Hideout.
BART WOKE stiff and sore from sleeping in his truck. He’d gone home for an hour, done his chores and made a sandwich, then returned to his hiding place with Biscuit to make sure the punks didn’t get away on him. Should he call the Ranger and tell him where the murdering sons of bitches were? Or should he wait for his chance and take care of them himself?
He unscrewed the lid of his thermos and refilled his mug.
He’d wait a little longer and see what happened, then he’d decide.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
LILY was first to arrive for work. She filled a mug and sat down at the kitchen table with Blaine. The morning meeting had evolved and although having coffee and a muffin together took a little longer than just him shouting out directives, it seemed to put the entire crew in a good mood and get them off on the right foot.
“There’s a list on your desk of the five names Jesse got from the boy we caught and brought in. I’ve never done this before, but I’m wondering—and I’ll run it by the Chief—but what if we brought all the parents in to the boardroom and told them their offspring were murderers, would we get results? Would they help us? Or would they call us liars and work against us.”
“You mean, make them face the fact that their kid is off track?” asked Lil. “Yep, the parents might know details, or some might know where their kids are.”
“Shit, Lil, somebody has to be responsible for these boys. They’re in first year of high school, for crissake.”
“I know, boss, and there are laws about attending school. At least some of the parents have to know their kid isn’t at school. It’s hard to believe they’re running wild like they are, robbing and killing people, and worse than that, nobody is trying to stop them.”
“Find the phone numbers and addresses and get set up. I’ll see what Calhoun thinks.”
Lil picked up her coffee and turned to leave. “Did you talk to Misty, boss? She was unhappy when she left here yesterday.”
“I tried her last night when she didn’t come over and her phone went to message.”
“She wasn’t saying much, that’s for sure.”
Blaine tried again, and Misty didn’t answer. “Shit. I haven’t got time to stop by her house, but I’ll fuckin have to.”
Lily stopped at the kitchen door. “Rick said there was no movement at Shady River overnight. Greg and Andy are there now for the morning shift. Do you want to continue on that property?”
“We can’t give it up until we get a new location. Farrell has the map from the owner of other properties that might be possibilities and we’ll be checking every one of those today.”
Lily nodded and continued to her office. Lexi barked, and it was showtime. The crew was at the door.
Misty’s Bungalow. Austin.
BEFORE going to headquarters, Blaine drove by Misty’s house only six blocks away from his own place. Her car wasn’t in the driveway, which was odd because she didn’t drive it, preferring to take public transit for a reason known only to her.
Blaine left the big diesel running, hopped out and knocked on the side door. Hoodoo ran down the three steps and whined, happy to see him, but no sign of Misty.
He tried the knob and the door was locked.
“Be back later,” he shouted through the glass to Hoo.
Where the hell is she?
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
CHIEF CALHOUN thought the parental approach was a stellar idea and heartily endorsed it. “The parents can’t be innocent bystanders in this,” he said. “Something has gone terribly wrong in their families and they have to face it.”
Blaine nodded. “Did Ranger Ruskin get the wanted posters out on Kyle Teckford, aka Basil Bernard?”
“She did that late yesterday.”
“Good.”
“What time should we meet with the parents?” asked the Chief.
“Lil is rounding up phone numbers and addresses. I’ll have her start calling and we should be able to get them in here by four. Is that good for you?”
“Sure. I’m anxious to hear why they don’t know where in hell’s half acre their kids are.”
“Okay, four o’clock it is.” Blaine relayed the message to Lil and had her begin contacting the parents. “If any of the parents have no transportation and are using that as an excuse, arrange for a squad to pick them up.”
“Right, boss.”
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
AFTER BREAKFAST Dooley knocked on the door and Annie greeted him with a hug. “Hey, baby, come in.”
“I’m going to the studio and wondered if the big Dog wanted to come see the set-up, and the recording studio.”
“I’m sure he does, honey. Come in and grab a stool at the island and I’ll get him for you.”
Dougie was dozing in the chair in his room when Annie opened the door. “Hey, sugar pop, Dooley is in the kitchen asking if you want to see the music studio?”
Dougie stared at her for a moment processing the question. “Damn right I do. Can you carry my guitar for me, baby?”
“Sure.” She helped him up and handed him the crutches, then picked up the guitar case and held the door open wide.
“Dooley super good on the guitar?” he asked as they traversed the long hallway.
“Uh huh. He’s excellent. Practices every day. I let him use Billy’s Stratocaster.”
“I’m only an a
mateur,” mumbled the Dog. “I knew I’d never make it as a musician, that’s why I chose another career.”
Annie smiled.
Austin High Schools.
FLETCH AND HAMMER were assigned to high school watch. Cruising the school areas watching for older kids lurking around, just outside school property. Talking to younger kids, chatting them up and laughing, offering them smokes—giving them sample drugs—drawing them in. Recruiters.
Nothing at the first school. Nice and quiet. Kids all inside in the classrooms. The second school on the list told a different story. It was lunch break and a couple of kids had drawn a crowd on the sidewalk a little way from the paved entrance to the school parking lot.
“How we gonna do this, partner?” asked Fletcher. He hadn’t worked too much with Hammer, who’d come to the Agency from the military, former MP—except for the time in Dallas when Hammer had killed the suspect they needed alive and Fletcher had been shot. His shoulder was almost healed, but range of motion in his left arm was shabby. He hoped when the going got tough like it might a minute from now, Hammer would have his back.
“I’ll drive past them,” said Hammer, “park at the curb, then we’ll walk back towards them real slow, so they don’t freak and run.”
“Okay.”
They did that, and it worked reasonably well until they got close. Then the recruiters noticed them and bolted.
Hammer and Fletcher gave chase across the road and down a side street. One kid jumped a fence and tore through a backyard to the street behind. The second kid, smaller and not as strong, didn’t make it over the fence on the first try and Hammer grabbed him by the back of his t-shirt. He jerked him off the fence, whipped cuffs on him and spun him around.
The kid screamed curses at him in a high-pitched soprano, kicked viciously at him with ragged runners and spit. He had a lot of spit.
Hammer chuckled. “Let’s see how feisty you are when we get you to headquarters. What’s your name?”
“Ain’t talking to cops.” And he didn’t. Not a word all the way to DPS.
Fletcher called Blaine and told him they had a suspect in custody.
“Okay, great. You can’t book him but take him in and get the process started. I’ll meet you at DPS in fifteen minutes.
Mrs. Balstadt’s Properties in Suburban East Austin.
FARRELL AND TRAVIS followed Mrs. Balstadt’s map and checked out the properties she and her deceased husband had made into mobile home parks at the east end of the city. Each tract contained anywhere from twenty-five to fifty acres or more and all had mature trees and a reliable water source. All were empty. Gate closed and locked at the road.
“Do you think Basil knows about these other parks, or has he moved the kids into a crack house or something?” asked Farrell.
“I don’t know how he’d know, but maybe he does,” said Travis. “He might have lived in one of the parks at one time and heard about the others.”
“Anything is possible, I guess.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
BLAINE arrived at DPS before Hammer and Fletch brought their suspect in. Three-thirty. Half an hour before the parents arrived. He’d called Jesse to help with questioning the parents and expected him to arrive shortly.
After saying hello to the Chief, Blaine headed for booking to see if his guys had brought the kid in the back door, and they had. Hammer physically dragged the boy towards booking, the kid cursing and yelling all the way.
“Good job, boys,” Blaine said. To the kid: “Who do we have here? What’s your name?”
“None of your business, amigo.”
Blaine smiled at the slur. “Print him. Maybe his parents are on the way.”
“You sons of bitches called my Dad? I’ll kill y’all for that. Trust me.”
“I wouldn’t trust you with anything, kid,” said Hammer.
After the kid was printed and his picture taken, Blaine walked the prints down the hall to the lab. “Sue, this is a rush. See if these prints match any from the Fogarty murder scene.”
“Sure, I can do that quickly. Only take a few minutes.”
Blaine sat on a vacant stool and waited.
Sue returned a few minutes later and nodded her head. “He was there. Got a name for him?”
“He hasn’t given us one yet, but if our witness was telling the truth, he should match one of the five names on Jesse’s list. I’ve got all the parents meeting upstairs,” Blaine glanced at his Cartier, “right about now.”
“Let me know when you get names,” said Sue. “I need them badly for my report.”
JESSE and Chief Calhoun met Blaine in the hall outside the boardroom on the second floor. “Did we get a good turnout?” asked Blaine.
“Pretty much one hundred percent,” said the Chief. “Two of the boys only have one parent, but one is better than none.”
“No matter,” said Jesse. “One is just as responsible. As long as we have a representative from each family.”
Blaine grabbed the door handle. “Let’s do it.”
Eight people sat on the edge of their seats around the gleaming mahogany table in the boardroom. They began firing questions the second the door opened.
“Why are we here? You can’t take people away from their jobs and haul them off to the police station on a whim.”
Chief Calhoun held up a hand. “Time for questions later. First, I’ll explain why we’ve gathered y’all together, then Ranger Quantrall and Ranger Blackmore will take over.”
“This better be good,” said one of the fathers.
“Oh, it’s good,” said the Chief. He stood at the end of the table casting an intimidating shadow. “Putting it as briefly as possible, all of your sons’ names came up on a list. A list of boys that murdered a gentleman over seventy years old.”
“That ain’t true,” hollered one man.
“It’s a tragedy, but it is true,” said Jesse stepping closer to the head of the table. “What we’d like from y’all is help or at least information to find the boys and bring them in for questioning.”
“Who ratted out our kids?”
Blaine pointed. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Murphy.”
“Mr. Murphy, where we got our information is no concern of yours. It’s up to us to prove your boys were at the scene. If y’all help get them into the booking room downstairs and have them printed, they will either be cleared or charged. As simple as that.”
One lady sitting alone had her hand over her face covering her tears. “I knew this would happen when Elliott started hanging around with those older boys.”
“Your name, Ma’am?” asked Jesse.
“Betteridge. Elizabeth Betteridge.”
“Who were the older boys your son hung around with?”
“I don’t remember their names. But after Elliott met them, he started staying out past his curfew and skipping school. I had calls from the Vice-Principal and that never happened before he met them.”
“Let’s have a show of hands,” said Jesse. “How many of y’all know where your sons are right at this moment?”
No one raised their hand.
“Okay, none of you.”
There was a tap on the door and Blaine stepped out into the hallway. “Thanks for bringing him up, Perkins.”
“No problem Ranger B. Want me to wait?”
“Yes please. This is just a quick show and tell.”
Hope somebody in there claims this kid.
Blaine opened the door and pushed the kid into the boardroom. Mr. Murphy let out a roar at his son and the kid cringed and crouched behind a chair.
He beats his kid.
“What in the name of Mother Mary have you done, Doyle?”
“Nothing Dad. It’s all a mistake.”
“I need your son’s full name, sir.” Chief Calhoun pushed a pad and pencil in front of a red-faced Murphy. “You may wish to get him legal representation.”
Murphy scribbled ‘Doyle Brian Murphy’ on the p
aper and ripped off the sheet with a vengeance. “I’ll do no such thing. He made this mess and he can bloody well clean it up. I wash my hands of him.” Murphy got up and left the room.
Blaine took Doyle into the hall, gave the note to Perkins and said, “You can book him now. Murder during. No bail.”
Doyle sobbed his way down the hall.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
THE GATE to his private sanctuary swung open when Blaine pushed the remote. Exhausted from the events of the day, he felt that little progress had been made finding the real perpetrator—the man running the army of kids—Basil Bernard, aka Kyle Teckford.
He hoped Farrell had better news for him, and his brother should be back soon from his little scouting trip around the perimeter of the city.
He parked the truck, opened the front door with his key and turned off the alarm system. Two dogs greeted him in the foyer. Lexi and Hoodoo.
Good, Misty is here.
Blaine trudged across the kitchen to the Sub-Zero and grabbed himself a Corona. He was twisting the top when Carm began telling him a story in Spanish. He held up a hand to slow her down a little.
“Misty dropped off the dog because she’s going to New Orleans for a couple of weeks. She doesn’t want you to worry.”
“Worry?” Blaine paced. “She can’t wait until I can go? And now she’s going without me? Stress is my fuckin middle name.”
Carm smiled. “She’ll come back, carino. She needs to go. She misses her home.”
The dogs raised a ruckus as the boys came in to check out at the end of the day.
Blaine stomped into the foyer. “Hammer, go home and pack a bag. Take the next flight to New Orleans. Find Misty and watch her. Make sure she’s safe.”
“What?” Hammer screwed up his face. “How am I supposed to find her in a busy city like that?”
Blaine pointed a finger and the short fuse blew. “You’re a goddam investigator. Go find her.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Thursday, February 12th.
Abandoned Trailer Park. East end of Austin.
THROUGH the pine boughs hiding his truck, Bart could see the front door of the rundown trailer the gang was holed up in. He’d been sitting for hours and his attention span wandered from time to time, but the moment there was movement around the trailer, grogginess left him instantly.