Night Vipers

by Carolina Mac

  Farrell came into the office carrying the two mugs of coffee and set one down in front of Billy. “There you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I have rules,” said Blaine. “We’re not totally without rules and discipline here at the Agency.”

  “I know, but y’all ain’t the government. That’s what I’m talking about. When you try to do something and you know damn well it’s right, but you just can’t get it done.”

  “No, we’re not the government, but we work under the supervisory eye of the Chief of the Texas Rangers.”

  “Uh huh. I believe I read that,” said Billy.

  “How long you been a Harley rider, Billy?” asked Farrell.

  “Long time. I got my first bike when I was about eighteen, I guess.”

  “Lots of experience. That’s good. Riding and shooting takes a special skillset.”

  “Uh huh. Never done it, but I’m willing to learn.”

  “We have a good teacher,” said Farrell.

  Blaine sat quietly for a few minutes re-reading Billy’s print-out. “Farrell, why don’t you take Billy and Carlos and go pick up Cody. Drive out to Coulter-Ross and introduce the boys to Mickey-Jeeter. I’ll call Annie and see if she has time for some testing at the range.”

  Farrell was on his feet. “I’m all over that, bro. Sure you and Jesse can finish the interviews on your own?”

  “I’m sure I’ll do better without you here,” said Blaine with a smirk on his face.

  “You have the rest of the day free, Billy?”

  “Sure do. I’m hyped for this if y’all are.”

  2:00 p.m.

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  FARRELL gave Jose a wave as the big Hispanic guard let them through the gate into Coulter-Ross. Jose, his wife Rosalie and their daughter, Sarah, had worked for Annie since she lived in Santa Fe and moved with her to Texas. They were an important part of Annie’s family.

  Farrell parked close to the garage and Carlos, Cody and Billy hopped out.

  “Wow, huge garage,” said Cody eyeballing the six bays.

  “Full of bikes,” said Farrell. “But before we go in and meet the guy who is already on my team, just a word—Mickey ain’t a people person and not much of a talker.”

  “Okay,” Billy nodded. “I won’t crowd him.”

  “I better go in first,” said Farrell. “Give me a minute.” Farrell went inside the garage and closed the side door behind him.

  Mickey turned down the jukebox and wiped his greasy hands on a rag. “Hey, Farrell. We talking more about the squad thing?”

  “Yep. I brought the guys out here to test them at the range. Will you come out back and shoot with them?”

  “Is Annie coming out to the range?”

  “I’ll go get her before we start. Okay?”

  “You get set up and I’ll come in a few minutes.”

  “Did you and Annie take the bikes out?”

  Mickey smiled. “We went for a long ride. Froze our asses off, but it was good. So fuckin good. Then we had to drink hot coffee in the kitchen to warm up.”

  That’s the most I’ve ever heard him say.

  “Meet you out back.”

  Farrell joined the guys waiting in a little cluster beside his truck. “Mick will meet us out back at the range. Bring your guns and we’ll go meet Annie.”

  “This coach is a woman?” asked Cody.

  Carlos chuckled. “She taught me a lot already, especially how to use my non-dominant hand. Best shooter I’ve ever seen.”

  “Hey,” said Billy, “I’ve got nothing against women. In fact, I like women a lot.”

  “Before y’all get hard when you meet her, try to remember that Annie is my Mom,” said Farrell. “I ain’t kidding.”

  “Okeydokey,” said Billy. “I’ll remember and I’m on my best behavior.”

  ANNIE was in the great room with Travis selecting the guns she wanted to use for the training. Dressed warmly in leathers with a red bandana tied around her forehead, she was ready to shoot, and to ride and shoot, if that’s what Farrell wanted to do. The two new guys Farrell was bringing weren’t officially hired yet—they had to pass a few tests first according to Blaine’s phone call.

  I’ll score them accurately and let the boys decide.

  Travis was staring at messages on his phone and Annie noticed how quiet he was. “You’re bored out here at the ranch, aren’t you, sugar?”

  “Nope. No, I’m not.” He shoved his phone into his shirt pocket and crossed the room to help her. “Sure, we have down time, but there’s down time at the Agency too. I’m hyped to get the night squad up and running with you, Annie-girl.”

  “You had no troubles with your bike when we took Mickey out. You looked good.” She leaned closer and kissed his neck.

  Travis gave a half grin. “Felt a bit awkward. Need more time on the open road.”

  “We should ride to Vegas,” Annie whispered. She was pulling boxes of practice ammo out of the drawer below the glassed-in section of the gun cabinet and handing the different calibers to Travis, when Mickey-Jeeter came busting through the back door.

  “I don’t think I can do it, Annie. I have to meet these new guys and ride with them and shit. Am I gonna get fuckin killed? Are they gonna watch my back out there? How do I know that?”

  Annie grabbed his shaking hands in hers. “Stop, sugar. Stop worrying. You don’t have to do this. Just because Farrell asked you, you don’t have to do it. You can shoot with them today, see what they’re like, then still change your mind.”

  Micky inhaled a couple of times before he could speak. “Are you coming out back?”

  Annie nodded. “Help me carry my gear, sugar.” She turned to Travis, “Box up the ammo. It’s heavy to carry.”

  “I can carry all of this,” said Travis.

  Mickey paced in front of the hearth and ran his hands through his long black hair.

  Annie watched him and wondered if it was such a good idea to let him off the ranch. He didn’t seem ready. After five years, he might never be ready. Just the way it was. People reacted to trauma in their lives differently. “Did the boys come into the garage to meet you?”

  “No, just Farrell did.”

  “See, he doesn’t want to rush you. You already know Carlos. There’s only two new guys and they might not get hired if they’re no good.”

  “Is today a test?”

  “Uh huh. I have to score them.”

  Mickey managed a half smile. “Okay, good.”

  Annie giggled. “Are you hoping they won’t pass?”

  Mickey shrugged. “Maybe. A little.”

  Annie laughed and gave him a gentle push. “Come on. Get your butt out there and meet them.”

  FARRELL had fresh targets in place when Annie came around the corner of the guest cabin with Travis and Mickey-Jeeter. He grinned and greeted her with a hug. “I love you, Mom,” he whispered into her hair. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Part of my job. I don’t mind.”

  Farrell introduced the new guys to Mickey-Jeeter, and Mickey just nodded in their direction. “This is Cody Rancourt, and this guy is Billy McGregor.”

  Annie sucked in a breath when she saw Billy. He looked so much like Billy Jennings. Tears burned behind her eyes and she fought them back. “Hi, boys. Nice to meet you both. Call me Annie.”

  Billy stared at Annie too long, in Farrell’s opinion. “Okay, let’s get started.” He pointed at the ammo boxes on the picnic table. “Load up and we’ll see what y’all can do.”

  “There’s a bit of wind today from the north west,” said Annie as she handed out the ear protectors. “Y’all can take that into account.”

  Mickey-Jeeter took the spot at the end of the run a little way from the others and cranked off his practice shots.

  After the first round, Farrell brought the targets to Annie and she looked them over and made notes. “Uh huh. A few things we could improve on.”

  “I’m a bit out of practice,” sa
id Billy.

  “In some cases, it doesn’t matter how much you practice. If you have a flaw and don’t correct it, you could waste box after box of ammo and never get any better.”

  “I guess that could be true,” said Cody.

  “Okay,” said Annie. “Let’s go again, and this time while y’all are shooting I’m going to make adjustments to your stance and your grip, and we’ll see if you get more rounds in the center.”

  After they finished, Annie invited them into the kitchen to clean their guns and have a beer. “It’s too cold to sit at the picnic table for a beer, and I want to talk about what y’all learned with the handguns before we move on to rifles and shotguns.”

  Once they settled at the harvest table with the Hoppes and the cleaning kit, Farrell fetched cans of Lone Star from the Sub-Zero.

  “As soon as your stationery skills are rock solid, and you’ve made improvements with your non-dominant hand, we can think about practicing on the bikes,” said Annie. “That might be a brand new skill for y’all.”

  Cody nodded. “Will be for me. Definitely. I’ve never fired from my Harley.”

  “Me neither,” said Billy.

  “I’ll have to order holsters for the bikes,” said Farrell and get them mounted before we start.”

  “The boys can check mine out in the garage,” said Annie. “Mickey will show y’all, and I can order them through the dealership. Might speed things up.”

  “Thanks, Annie,” said Farrell.

  2:30 p.m.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  JESSE and Blaine interviewed the last candidate of the day while most of the crew was at Coulter-Ross getting up to speed at the range.

  About five foot nine, Dillon Herriot was well built and muscular. According to his resume, he was thirty-two years old. Brown hair. Brown eyes. And he came from a background in law enforcement in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

  “Why did you decide to move to Texas?” Jesse drawled out the question and didn’t hear the answer for Blacky’s phone jangling on the other side of the desk.

  “Yeah, Chief, what have you got?”

  “Looks like a domestic, but Catherine is messing in it because she knows the Congressman.”

  “Who’s dead?” asked Jesse. “The wife or the husband?”

  “Congressman Flaherty is deceased, and the wife is saying she had nothing to do with it. She professes she wasn’t home and has witnesses to prove it.”

  “A hired job,” said Jesse, “or a dozen other possibilities.”

  “Exactly. Nothing taken as far as she can tell.”

  “Okay, not a robbery. Blacky and I will go. What’s the address.” Jesse wrote it down while Blaine and Dillon Herriot watched with interest. “Yes, sir, got it. We’re going right now.”

  “Sorry,” Blaine said to Dillon. “Can you come back tomorrow morning and we’ll finish the interview?”

  “Sure. No problem.”

  BLAINE revved up the big diesel while Jesse punched the Congressman’s Austin address into the GPS. “Think we need to call Luke and Fletcher?”

  “Wait and see,” said Jesse. “Might be simple.”

  Blaine grinned. “When was murder ever simple?” His cell rang and he grabbed for it. “Blackmore.”

  “Did the Chief call you?”

  “We’re on our way, Cat. Give us an hour and I’ll call and tell you what I know.”

  “Thanks, sweetie. Go do your thing.”

  “Is Catherine calling already?” asked Jesse. “Jesus, we haven’t even seen the fuckin body.”

  “She has a personal interest,” said Blaine. “Who knows? Maybe this is another one where she was screwing around with the husband and now he’s toast.”

  Jesse screwed up his face. “Fuck that, we already had one of those.”

  “Only three more years to go,” said Blaine.

  “You don’t think she’s going to run again?”

  “Not if I can prevent it.”

  “How could you prevent it?” asked Jesse.

  “I’ll think of something,” said Blaine. “I’ve got three years.”

  Jesse snorted. “That should be enough time.”

  3:30 p.m.

  Lady Bird Lake Area. Austin.

  CONGRESSMAN Flaherty and his wife lived in one of the upscale condos near Lady Bird Lake. This was their Austin residence and chances were good, they had a couple of other homes including one in DC.

  Blaine parked at the curb. No room in the short driveway. First response followed by the Medical Examiner and the crime scene van had taken all the available spots.

  A couple of media vans were parking down the block, but the vultures hadn’t infested the whole area—not yet. Blaine was sure they’d be out there in droves ready to pounce when he and Jesse emerged.

  The foyer was jammed with uniforms waiting for Doctor Mort Simon to finish with the body. Blaine pushed his way through the crowd into the living room where the Congressman lay dead on the pale blue carpet, a huge dark stain under his shoulders and his head.

  “Anything, Doc?” asked Blaine. The question he always asked, and Doctor Simon knew Blaine was asking if there was anything different or anything they could run with—not just anything. They understood each other from working together for such a long time.

  “Nada.”

  “Single shot to the neck,” said Tim, the ME’s assistant. “Nice big caliber. Nice and close.”

  “How long did it take him to bleed out?” asked Jesse.

  “A few minutes,” said Doctor Simon. “According to the wife, her husband was home alone, and no one called 911.”

  “Are the neighbors being canvassed?” asked Jesse.

  “I believe so,” said Tim.

  “Where is Mrs. Flaherty?” asked Jesse.

  “She’s upstairs in the sitting room adjoining the master suite,” said Tim. “Top of the stairs and to the right.”

  “We better go hear her story,” said Blaine.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Blaine could hear sobbing and he followed the sound to the master bedroom. Mrs. Flaherty sat on a pale pink loveseat in a window alcove, a female officer next to her holding a box of tissues.

  The Congressman’s wife looked young enough to be his daughter. Late twenties with long blonde hair and mascara streaked down her cheeks. Not the waterproof one that Misty wore.

  Why am I missing Misty so much? I should be thinking about Kim.

  “I’m Ranger Blaine Blackmore and this is Ranger Quantrall. We’re from Violent Crime, ma’am.”

  Mrs. Flaherty nodded. “I know who y’all are. Dan was very high on the Agency. Thank you for coming.”

  “The officer downstairs said you weren’t home when this happened?” asked Jesse.

  “No, I was at a committee meeting for a charity function I’m involved in.” She reached for more tissues. “I called Dan to say I’d be home in an hour, and he didn’t answer, but I thought maybe he was working in his office or making calls. He’s extremely busy with a new session beginning. Then when I got home… there he was… just like that.” She cried harder.

  “And you called 911 right away?” asked Jesse.

  “Of course.”

  “Did you check for a pulse?” asked Blaine.

  More sobbing. “I apologized already to the paramedics who were here. I didn’t think of feeling for a pulse. I guess I wasn’t thinking straight seeing Danny like that.”

  “It would have been a terrible shock,” said Jesse.

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Do you have someone you could stay with until the forensic team are finished with the house?” asked Blaine.

  “My sister is on her way into the city to pick me up. She lives down in Smithville.”

  “Good,” said Jesse. “You need to be with your family.”

  “Could you give us a number where we can reach you?” asked Blaine.

  “Yes. I’ll write my cell number down for y’all.”

  They left the scene
in the hands of Sue Jacobson and her lab people. “What was your take, partner?” asked Jesse.

  “He was popped, up close and personal. Looked like a hit to me. We should talk to Cat and see what committees he was on and who was pissed at him.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt.”

  Blaine sat behind the wheel of the big diesel and pressed Governor Campbell’s number. “Got time for lunch tomorrow? We need to talk.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Wednesday, January 11th.

  Midnight.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  FARRELL had grabbed three hours solid sleep after dinner, so he’d be ready for the night ride with Micky-Jeeter and Annie. Mick wasn’t sure if he wanted to be part of the squad and Farrell thought getting a feel for the night riding in the city might be a way to sway him a little.

  Mickey-Jeeter had social issues, and a problem with rules but he was a wizard on his bike, a crack shot and could wield a knife better than most. Not following the rules in his former bike club was probably what landed Mickey in the situation he was in when Annie found him bleeding out in a park north of the city. She’d healed him and given him a new life and Mick wasn’t letting go of it too easily. Getting him out of his comfort zone and into the real world again was a big hurdle.

  Cody and Billy wouldn’t be sworn in until the morning. They had to come into the office and see Lil and be officially hired first. Tomorrow would be busy.

  Farrell was wriggling into his holster in the kitchen when Blaine walked through the door wearing his leathers. “Where do you think you’re going, bro?”

  “I want to ride with y’all,” said Blaine in a sleepy voice. “I set my alarm so I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “You’re gonna screw yourself over for tomorrow,” said Farrell. “You know that, right?”

  “Probably, but I want to do this. I’ll be okay.”

  A rumble sounded in the driveway and Farrell looked out the front window. “Mom and Mick are here. Let’s go.” He grabbed for his jacket and tore out onto the porch with Blaine on his heels.

  1:00 a.m.