Dog

by Carolina Mac

  Tears burned behind Misty’s eyes and a couple of wayward drops rolled down her cheeks. “That makes me sad.”

  “I’m so sorry, but if you wait, you might avoid heartache in the future.”

  “Thank you.” Misty stumbled out of the tent and into the brilliant sunlight of the square. She couldn’t contain the tears all the way back to her hotel. Twice she stopped, sensing someone was following her. A third time, she spun around quickly and caught of glimpse of Hammer.

  Blaine sent him to protect me.

  After a couple of deep breaths and constant dabbing at her eyes with a tissue, she reached the hotel. She stood out of the way in the elegant lobby and waited for Hammer to come in looking for her. When he passed close to her, she stepped out and confronted him. “Did Blaine send you?”

  Hammer grinned. “Hey, you weren’t supposed to make me, Miss Misty.”

  “I want you to stop following me and go back home.”

  “Let’s go for a drink,” said Hammer and pointed across the street at the bar he was obviously familiar with.

  “No, thank you.”

  “How about later? New Orleans is a party town. We could have a good time together.”

  “No.” Misty left him standing in the lobby and went up to her room.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE RETURED home after his visit to Mrs. Costello at the hospital. He paused in the foyer to pet the dogs, then stuck his head in the kitchen door, where Farrell sat slouched over his coffee mug in deep conversation with his ex, Mary Polito.

  Blaine held up a finger, “I’ll be with you in one minute, Mary, I have to tell Lil something.”

  Blaine shot down the hall to Lil’s office and opened the door. “See if any stores have been robbed of knives, guns, any kind of weapons, recently. These kids have no money, but they all have knives and guns. Teckford must be supplying the weapons.”

  “Good thought, boss. Anything else?”

  “Did Hammer call from New Orleans?”

  “He’d call you and not me, but no.” Lil made a face.

  “What? You don’t like him?”

  “Not saying it out loud.”

  Blaine smiled. “Almost forgot. Phone the Chief. He wants the parents in the boardroom again. Set Jesse up to be the interviewer. I’ll be at Herman Fogarty’s funeral.”

  “Got it.” Lily scribbled on her yellow pad.

  Blaine poured himself a coffee and sat down across from Mary. Farrell’s ex was a small dark-haired girl a few years older than Farrell, but she loved him madly and wanted him to settle down. Farrell wasn’t ready. That was one of the reasons they broke up.

  Mary grabbed her pen ready to take notes and focused on Blaine.

  “Let’s start with an in-depth look at the senseless murder of Herman Fogarty.”

  Mary scribbled a heading and smiled. “I like it already. His memorial service is today, and it would be fitting.”

  The Methodist Church. East Austin.

  THE CHURCH was packed to the rafters with family, friends and business associates for Herman Fogarty’s funeral. The man had been in business in the city for almost fifty years and there were few that didn’t know him or know of him. The big blue barn was a weekend destination and hordes of bargain hunters made the trip from all parts of Texas.

  Media people surrounded the church, crowding in close, hovering outside on the grass with their mics ready and their cameras rolling. They waved and shouted at Blaine as he approached, and he cautioned them to be respectful. “Mary has a release for y’all, and I will speak to y’all when I come out.”

  He and Farrell stood at the back of the church. All the pews were full and there was standing room only.

  “Look for Bart,” whispered Blaine. “He’ll be here for sure and we need to talk to him.”

  Towards the end of the service, Michael Fogarty stood at the lectern and gave a moving eulogy for his father. They hadn’t seen each other a lot in the past couple of years, but they talked on the phone almost daily and Herman always had a joke of the day for his son. When Michael finished, there was a final hymn followed by a long prayer and then the minister invited everyone to the church hall for refreshments.

  Blaine and Farrell followed the crowd to the building behind the church, hoping to see Bart among the multitudes, and at first, they did not. At least they didn’t recognize him in a well-tailored dark suit and a designer tie. He and Michael Fogarty were conversing near the coffee station.

  Two people Blaine wanted to see in one spot. Too good to be true. He charged over to them with Farrell on his heels. “So sorry for your loss, Mr. Fogarty. I’m Blaine Blackmore, and this is Deputy Donovan.”

  They shook hands. Bart looked on in silence. A few more words to Michael Fogarty and he had to move on to speak to other people he recognized.

  “Bart, we need to talk.” Blaine pointed to the hallway, not knowing where it led.

  “Figured you’d be looking for me, but I had to come. Herman was my best friend.”

  “Of course, you had to come,” said Blaine. He opened a door looking for a place to have a private conversation and found a room filled with tables, chairs and art supplies. “We can talk in here.”

  Farrell followed and closed the door behind him.

  “Where is Teckford now?”

  “He’s on a property that ain’t one of Mrs. Balstadt’s, and it ain’t a trailer park even. One old farmhouse and a barn. He’s moving the kids farther out of the city, the bigger the gang gets.”

  “How many boys has he got now?” asked Farrell.

  “I counted close to forty,” said Bart, “but they weren’t standing still, so I could’ve been off by a few.”

  “Would you show me where he’s at?” asked Blaine.

  “How many men are you taking?”

  “I’ll take enough. You’re worrying he’ll get away?”

  “Something like that.”

  Boardroom at Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  JESSE and Chief Calhoun greeted the distraught and angry parents in the boardroom on the second floor at headquarters.

  “Why in hell did we have to come here again?” asked Mr. Frolick. He jerked his yellow hard hat off and held it in his hand. His wife, pale and blonde sat down and folded her hands in front of her.

  Is Frolick abusing his wife?

  Always on the alert for spousal abuse, Jesse had no tolerance in that area. None.

  Chief Calhoun sat down at the opposite end of the table and let Jesse take over. “We’ve asked y’all here again because there have been developments y’all should be aware of. Dangerous developments, and because y’all have boys in the gang…”

  “My boy isn’t in any gang,” hollered Mr. Doucette. “This is bullshit.”

  Jesse turned and stared directly at Doucette. “Where is your son right now, sir?”

  “In school where he’s supposed to be.”

  “I don’t believe that’s true,” said Jesse. “I don’t think you know where your son is, and I don’t think you’ve known for more than a week now.” Doucette made a motion to stand up and Jesse waved him back into his seat.

  “And as I was saying, overnight we’ve had a casualty. Y’all will notice that Mrs. Betteridge is not present. Although, she was here at headquarters at nine o’clock this morning to identify her son’s body in the morgue.”

  “What?” Mr. English hopped up and paced behind his chair. “Are you trying to scare us, Ranger Quantrall.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do. I’m trying my best to scare you so bad y’all are gonna get off your asses and do something about your missing children.”

  “Butch isn’t missing,” said Mr. Doucette. “He’ll show up and tell me he’s been at his friend’s house playing video games for three days straight.”

  “Have you checked with all his friends to see if he’s there?” asked Jesse.

  “No need. He’ll come home when he’s ready.”

  “
What if he can’t come home, Mr. Doucette?”

  “What do you mean… can’t?”

  “What if he’s in a gang with a psycho leader and that leader—or boss—as the boys call him, has your boy hooked on meth or cocaine or heroin and is holding the boys prisoner and making them do his bidding, along with three dozen others?”

  “That’s too far-fetched for me to believe,” said Doucette. “My son would never do drugs.” He stood up. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

  Farm. East of Austin.

  AFTER the funeral service, Bart gave Blaine directions to the last place he’d seen the tan van. “I’ve got to go home and change, then do my chores and feed Biscuit,” said Bart. “I’ve lost the kids now and that’s the last thing I wanted to happen.”

  Blaine took the scrap of paper with the map on it and thanked Bart. The big guy wasn’t telling all he knew, Blaine sensed that, but what else was there?

  Not bothering to go home and change, he and Farrell drove straight from the church out of town, following the directions and arrived at a run down ranch house with a barn behind it. There was no van. There were no kids. But there was evidence—and lots of it. The East End gang had been here.

  Pizza boxes, beer cans, soda cans, ammo boxes, and drug paraphernalia. Needles, lots of needles scattered all over the kitchen floor. The kids were on crack and heroin.

  And one dead farmer sitting on his porch swing. A bullet hole in his forehead.

  Blaine called it in.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Saturday, February 14th.

  Valentine’s Day.

  Bart’s Farm. East Austin.

  BART finished his morning chores. Fed his two horses, tossed a couple of bales of alfalfa to the four steers that hadn’t been shipped, dipped his hand into a sack of corn and scattered a handful to the six Rhode Island Reds he’d raised from chicks. With that done, he trudged back into the house for a cup of coffee.

  Biscuit followed him into the kitchen, sat down and held up a paw waiting for a treat. “You think you should get a treat just for watching me do the chores?” Bart stuck his hand in the jar that sat on the shelf by the door and tossed the big collie a biscuit.

  He poured his coffee, took a can of Hoppes off the shelf and sat down at the wooden table to clean his gun. “Wonder where those kids are this morning, doggie? Is today the day we’re gonna track ‘em down and kill ‘em all?”

  Biscuit looked up from his treat and wagged his tail.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  “VALENTINE’S DAY,” said Farrell, and we don’t have dates or even hot prospects, bro.”

  “Wish to hell and back I knew where Misty was,” said Blaine. He clanked across the kitchen tiles to refill his coffee mug. “That fuckin Hammer is as good as fired.”

  Farrell chuckled. “What’s he gonna do when he does find her? She might refuse to come back. Misty has a mind of her own, or haven’t you noticed?”

  “Yeah, I noticed all right. Every time I piss her off, she demonstrates how well she can manage without me.”

  Farrell laughed. Blaine was his greatest source of amusement—after Neil. He missed his little brother away at school up in Dallas. “Wonder how Jesse made out with the parents yesterday?”

  Blaine shrugged. “I’ll call him in an hour. He isn’t in from the barn until after eight.” Blaine scrolled to Misty’s number and sent her a text for Valentine’s Day.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart. Wish you were here with me and I could take you out for a special dinner.”

  He was staring at his phone wondering if Misty would text him back when it rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Blackmore Agency.”

  “Ranger Blackmore, this is Willa Frolick. I’m Jonathan’s mother—one of the missing boys.”

  “What can I do for you, Mrs. Frolick?” Blaine reached for the ever-present yellow pad and grabbed a pen.

  “I didn’t mention this in the meeting yesterday, the one we had with Ranger Quantrall, but Johnathan is diabetic, and he’s been without his insulin for too long. If it’s true that he’s in a gang, how will I get his insulin to him?”

  Now, she’s worried?

  “We’re searching for the boys, ma’am, but if you hear from your son before we find them, please contact me right away.”

  “My husband is angry, Ranger Blackmore. He doesn’t like it when Johnathan causes problems.”

  “As soon as I have any information, I’ll call you.” Blaine inhaled a breath to keep from exploding. “You could call clinics and hospitals to see if your son has come in asking for insulin.”

  “That’s a good idea. Thank you, I’ll do that now.”

  “Let me know,” said Blaine. He pressed end and let go with a barrage of expletives in Spanish.

  Carm glanced across the kitchen and smiled.

  “Jesus in a handcart, Farrell. Her kid is diabetic—how many fuckin days has he been gone and today she’s worried about his fuckin insulin? Those parents should be strung up.”

  “Hanging was banned a while ago,” said Farrell. He had edged closer to the oven and wrapped his arms around Carm while they watched the timer on the muffins. “We might as well search the ditches for another dead one.”

  Fayette Memorial. La Grange.

  IN THE HOSPITAL parking lot, Annie struggled getting the crippled Dog into her truck after his X-rays. Not managing on his own made him as testy as a wild boar and he grunted, snorted and growled just as loudly.

  She giggled as she slammed his door, ran around to the driver’s side and slipped behind the wheel. “The X-rays are over, sugar pop. You can relax now.”

  “How can I relax? I’m a useless fuckin prick depending on my woman to wait on me, feed me, dress me and do everything else I need done.”

  Annie giggled again as she started the Ram. “The doctor said you’ll be walking on your leg in a couple of weeks.”

  “Two more weeks? I’ll be insane by then. Watch close and you’ll see me lose my fuckin mind.”

  “I’m watching you.” Annie winked at him, then turned her head to check for oncoming traffic as she pulled onto route seventy-one.

  They hadn’t gone five miles when she noticed the two bikes in her rear view. “Get my rifle from the back, sugar. Can you reach it?”

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “Do it quickly.”

  Dougie turned, grunted and groaned as he stretched to reach the gun, then managed to clamp his big hand around the barrel. He pulled it up and over the console and held it, pointing the barrel down into the foot well.

  The rumble grew louder as the bikers gained on them. “I hear them now.” Dougie turned his head and tried to get a look at the two riders. “Can you see their cuts?”

  “Nope,” said Annie, lowing her window. “The rifle isn’t going to be any good. The fuckers are too close to the truck. I’ll have to use the Beretta.” She checked the mirror again and pulled her gun out of her waistband.

  The first rider waited for an oncoming vehicle to pass, then made his move. He squeezed the gas, coasted alongside just a few feet behind and Annie watched in the side mirror as he pulled an auto-weapon from under his jacket.

  “Steer, baby,” she said to Dougie as she let go of the wheel. She turned, aimed out the window and shot the first guy off his bike. The noise inside the truck cab was deafening and the Dog winced as he hung onto the wheel and tried to keep the truck out of the ditch.

  The second biker swerved, nearly hitting his compadre as the first big Harley crashed to the asphalt. While the second guy was off balance, fighting to keep his ride upright, Annie fired twice and double tapped him.

  “Done,” she said. She stuck her Beretta in the console, grabbed the wheel and flashed a big smile at Dougie. “Most fun I’ve had in a while.”

  DOUGIE couldn’t believe the coolness and the skill the woman possessed. She was more than any man could hope for or want. His need for her burned through his gut like a drug. Did he love her? Could
he trust her? Maybe not, but did he want her?

  Oh, yeah.

  Downtown New Orleans.

  MISTY left her hotel for a morning of shopping for her home business. Usually she ordered what her customers needed online, but since she was here in New Orleans where a lot of her suppliers had shops, she though it would be fun to pick out the merchandise in person.

  She hopped off the trolley car in the downtown area and as she walked along the sidewalk reading the signs and searching for the stores she wanted, she saw Hammer behind her.

  Damn it. Blaine is trying to protect me, but I don’t need a bodyguard. Especially one I don’t like.

  She ducked into the first shop she came to and it was a voodoo shop. At the front counter she spoke in a whisper to the woman sitting on a stool making dolls out of emerald green satin, “A man is following me, and I want to get rid of him.”

  The silver-haired woman smiled and slipped off her stool. She took a black candle from the shelf and lit it. She passed her hands over it several times then said words that were familiar to Misty—a banishing spell.

  “Thank you,” said Misty. She bought several things from the shop, then ventured outside. She looked right and then left and there was Hammer, hurling up his breakfast in a trash bin. She scampered in the opposite direction and lost him for the rest of the day.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  BLAINE was parked in his designated spot at DPS when Annie called and told him about the B team trying for the Dog. “Already? How could they possibly know he’s in Texas, for crissake?”

  “Don’t know, sugar pop. This is the first time he’s been out of the compound. We had to get new X-rays on his leg.”

  “I’ll call Rafe Cumberland and have him take care of it. He’ll need to talk to you, but if he needs more than a simple statement, send him to me.”

  “Okay, baby. I love you.”

  “What happened?” asked Farrell when Blaine finished talking to Annie.

  “Two bikers tried for the Dog on the way home from the hospital.”