Rivered

by Carolina Mac

  “Is that where you want him?”

  “Yes, please, and see if his prints match Nate Wall. Upper left back sounds like one of the car-jackers. Jesse was pretty sure he hit the guy on the back of the bike.”

  “You on your way over?”

  “I’ve got to go to Marble Falls first but tell Calhoun I’ll be there by end of day. I’ll send Travis to interview the doctor and follow up with you.”

  “Where you sending me, boss?” Travis arrived for work a little late and looking worn out.

  “You’re doing interviews, then meeting a corpse at DPS. I think he might be the one Jesse put a slug in at the Westin Hotel.”

  “Maybe that’s one down.”

  Cherokee Trailer Park.

  HARLAN LEFT BECCA sleeping and drove out of town to the trailer park in the Camaro. He planned to find out what happened to Nate and at the same time, bring Becca’s truck back to her.

  He slammed through the unlocked front door of Mason’s trailer and stomped into the bedroom. His brother was flopped naked across the bed snoring and snorting out of his swollen nose like a fat old wild boar.

  Harlan raised his workbook and gave one of his brother’s bare feet a healthy kick. “Wake up, you asshole,” he hollered, “What did you do with Nate?”

  “Oww,” Mason yelped in pain and pulled away from Harlan. “Get out of here, jerk. I’m sleeping.”

  Harlan grabbed Mason by the arm and bounced him off the bed and onto the floor. “Not no more, you ain’t. You wake up and tell me where Nate is at, or I’m gonna pound you senseless.”

  “Hey, you told me to do something and I did it. I took him to a hospital and left him there.”

  “We can’t afford no hospital, and those docs will report the gunshot.”

  “No, they won’t if they just find him at the doorway. They have to help him. It’s their fuckin duty.”

  “What are you saying? You left him at the door by himself?”

  Mason grinned. “Yeah. Brilliant, wasn’t it.”

  Harlan grabbed Mason by the hair and pounded him four good ones in the face. “You are the world’s biggest asshole. I hate you, Mason. You are not my brother no more. Never again are you my kin.”

  Blood poured from Mason’s nose and down his bare chest. “Fine with me.” The words came out in a gurgle of blood. He spit out a tooth, flopped back on the bed and pulled up the blanket.

  Harlan tossed the keys to the Camaro on the blood-covered kitchen table and slammed the screen door behind him.

  Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  TRAVIS CALLED GINNY before he started his truck. “How are things going for you?”

  “All is quiet,” she said, “No problems. The Camaro seems to be gone, and maybe I was worrying for nothing.”

  Don’t think you were.

  “I’m hoping it was a coincidence,” said Travis.

  “But you don’t sound convinced.”

  “I’m a pessimist.”

  “You would be in your line of work.”

  “As long as you’re safe. I was just checking on you. No ulterior motive.”

  “Speaking of ulterior motives,” said Ginny, “and I’ve had this thought more than once—if I lost the election, the upside of that would be you, Travis.”

  Shit. I hope you win.

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  ANNIE SPENT the morning taking care of Jesse and the kids. Neil was attentive and helpful, and more than once apologized for going off without telling her.

  “Just because I want to see my Mom, doesn’t mean I’m gonna leave home or anything, Mom. I love you, and I’ll never leave the ranch for any reason.”

  “Unless you have to play baseball all over the country,” said Annie with a smile.

  “Yeah, unless that happens,” said Neil.

  “Neil, when you go to the Ranger stadium, can I go?” asked Jackson. He pushed away a half-eaten slice of toast.

  “Course you can, Jacks. I’ll get tickets for nothing for Globe Life Park for my family.”

  Sitting at the harvest table in the kitchen with a coffee in front of him, Jesse held out his hand. “I’ll take my World Series tickets now, thanks.” His cell rang, he glanced at the screen and hesitated. Brian.

  Do I want to talk to Brian?

  “Hey, Jesse, how are you feeling this morning?”

  “Better, Brian. I’m more relaxed when I’m here. Annie is taking care of Charity and she’s a happy baby with the kids around her. She loves playing with Jacks and Lucy.”

  “That woman has you snowed, Jesse. I want you to come home where you belong.”

  “Brian, Annie is my wife and I’m feeling so useless right at this moment, I need her to keep me sane. I want to be at Coulter-Ross with her. Please understand and be happy for me.”

  “I’m trying, Jesse, but I don’t get it. You should come home. I’m picking Ty up tomorrow.”

  “I’m glad Ty’s getting out of the hospital. Annie will bring us to Quantrall to see him tomorrow.”

  Highway Seventy-One. Marble Falls.

  FARRELL PULLED OVER to the shoulder when he saw the squad cars parked on the steel trestle bridge. “Think we’re here, boss.”

  “You might be right,” said Blaine. “Hope this turns out to be something. I don’t want to waste a whole damn day on it if it’s not.”

  “Two guys floating down the same river in the same week,” said Farrell. “can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Better not be.” Blaine groaned as he eased his body out of the truck. He trudged to the side of the bridge and peered over the steel girder. Down below, the body had been pulled out of the water onto the river bank. “Shit, how am I gonna get down that steep hill?”

  “You can’t. Stay there and I’ll get pictures and give you my educated opinion—be just like you were there.”

  Blaine grinned at Farrell, pulled out his smokes and lit one up. He watched his brother ease his way down the steep embankment.

  “Sheriff Sanchez, Farrell Donovan.” Farrell hooked a thumb over his shoulder at Blaine. “Blacky can’t get down the hill with his ribs broke n’all. He’d never get back up.”

  “Right, I forgot about his ribs. He’s on leave?”

  “We’re both on leave but haven’t had a fuckin day off yet.”

  “You hurt too, Deputy?”

  “Stabbed in the back—in my fuckin shoulder muscle. Taking a helluva long time to heal.”

  “Think I remember reading about that. In the gang war a while back, right?”

  “Uh huh.” Farrell knelt on the wet grass next to the county medical examiner and took a dozen pictures of the corpse. “Old guy, ain’t he?” asked Farrell. “Any ID?”

  “Nope. Not a dang thing on him. He ain’t shot or cut up, but his face looks bashed to hell and his throat is purple.”

  “Guess the autopsy will tell us,” said Farrell. “Who found him?”

  “Couple young boys fishing. I’ll send along their statements. Both of them puked up their breakfast and ran home. One of the mothers called it in.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Cherokee Junction.

  HARLAN GAVE BECCA a hug when he got back to the apartment. “Brought your truck back, baby. The back seat might be a little messy. I’ve got a good spray cleaner at the shop and I’ll work on getting the blood out for you.”

  “Thanks, sugar.” She kissed him. “Did Mason tell you where he took Nate?”

  “Took him to a hospital and left him at the door for a doctor to find him.”

  “Jesus, Harlan, Mason just left him there? What if he laid outside for hours and nobody found him? Nate could be dead.”

  “He won’t be dead if a doctor found him. A doctor wouldn’t let him die.”

  “Mason is such a fuckin idiot,” said Becca. “I should have left him long ago.”

  “I beat some sense into him,” said Harlan, “and told him he ain’t my brother no more.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Becca smiled. “He had that coming
and more besides. Too bad you didn’t kill him.”

  Saint David’s Hospital. Austin.

  TRAVIS ASKED at reception for directions to Doctor Lee Kovak’s office. He’d called on the way over and asked the doctor to set aside ten minutes for him between patients.

  After a couple of wrong turns and losing his way in a confusing myriad of corridors, Travis saw the brass plate on Kovak’s office door and knocked. He heard the doctor holler, “Come in.”

  Kovak glanced up from a form he was writing on. “Deputy Bristol? Have a seat.”

  “I understand you were the doctor who found the body this morning?”

  Kovak glowered through dark-rimmed glasses and tapped the end of his pen on the desk. “I’ve already given a statement to Austin PD. Don’t you people read the reports?”

  “I didn’t get a copy of the report yet, sir, and I’m not with Austin PD, I’m with the Blackmore Agency. State Violent Crime.”

  “Okay, I’ll give it to you in a nutshell. I parked my car in the doctors’ lot at the back of the hospital, walked to the door and there he was.”

  Travis had his notebook in his hand. “And he was already dead?”

  “I knelt down, tried to find a pulse and there was none. I stepped inside and called to the first orderly I saw, got the man on a gurney and sent him straight to Emergency. There was nothing we could do, he was already dead. But in my opinion, he’d only been dead for a short time. The body was still warm and there was no rigor when I found him—all of this is in my statement.”

  “You didn’t notice any unfamiliar vehicles in the doctors’ parking area?”

  “No, but I didn’t even look. It was dark, and I was coming on shift and rushing to the door. Didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, but then again, at that point, I hadn’t found the body and wasn’t looking. Its possible security might have seen something.”

  “Is there a security cam at the doctors’ door?”

  Kovak shrugged. “No idea, but I guess there would be.”

  Travis stood and offered his hand to the doctor. “Thank you for your time. I’ll go to the security office—as soon as I find it.”

  The doctor smiled for the first time. “Take the elevator to the basement level and follow the signs.”

  In the security office, Travis had a brief conversation with the officer on duty and came away with the address of Bob Thatcher, the guard who had been on the night shift. He also found out the tape from the security cam had been taken by Austin PD Homicide—a Detective Lopez.

  Homicide. Austin PD.

  TRAVIS STRODE down the hallway to Homicide, a trip he’d made many times before. “Morning, Detective,” Travis placed a large Starbuck’s container on Lopez’s desk then sank down into one of the two vinyl guest chairs. “Heard you had my security tape from Saint David’s.”

  Lopez chuckled. “Thought it was mine for a minute this morning, but I’m thrilled y’all are connected to that corpse. One less dead body for me.”

  “Blacky thinks it’s our car-jackers. The one Jesse hit in the back at the Westin.”

  “Fuck, man. What was Jesse doing shooting scum at the Westin? Isn’t he officially off duty?”

  “Funny thing,” said Travis, “those assholes tried to boost his new Range Rover.”

  Lopez snorted.

  Thatcher Residence. West Austin.

  TRAVIS INHALED the new smell as he sat on a sofa in the freshly painted living room of the Thatcher condo. Mrs. Thatcher said they had just moved in the week before and weren’t settled, but nothing looked out of place to Travis.

  He was joined a few minutes later by a sleepy-eyed Bob Thatcher, who had worked all night and slept only a couple of hours. Nonetheless, the big fellow clad only in blue pajama pants, reached out a hand. “Deputy Bristol, what can I help with?”

  “As I told your wife on the phone, I’m with the Blackmore Agency and Violent Crime has taken the case from Homicide. I have the surveillance video from last night and its grainy and not too helpful, but there is a pickup truck driving through the doctors’ parking lot heading for the door. Once the truck gets close to the hospital building, it’s too close to the cam and not visible. I wondered if you saw the truck on your rounds and noticed the make or model or the color? I’m thinking it looks kind of pink on the screen, but there aren’t many pink trucks.”

  Thatcher shook his head. “I would have noticed a pink truck. For sure I would, but nothing happened out of the ordinary when I was checking the back side of the hospital. Course it could have been when I was on my break—that was about two to two-thirty. I get an hour, but never take the full time, it’s too boring.”

  “Is that the only time you weren’t at the back of the hospital?”

  “Nope, I’m only at the back maybe a third of my time. If somebody was watching from the street—the one that runs behind the hospital—they could have waited until I went around the front before they made their move.”

  Travis nodded. “Sure, they could’ve.”

  Cherokee Trailer Park.

  MASON WOKE with a helluva headache. His face was sorer now than it had ever been. That fuckin Harlan pounding on him like that after he’d tried to help Nate. Harlan was younger, stronger and the fucker packed a helluva punch. Jesus, nobody appreciated him. Fuck them all.

  He staggered to the kitchen, tried to remember how to make coffee, dumped in what he thought might be the right amount and pressed the button. Wish Becca was back to take care of me. I need laundry done too. He picked the remote up off the floor and turned on the TV.

  The news at noon was almost over, but he caught the last item. The blonde girl with perfect hair and red lipstick said that Doctor Rodriguez would be speaking to the Historical Society at Johnson City tonight, but there were no tickets available. The place was sold out.

  Mason smiled through his pain, happy that he wouldn’t have to drive all the way to Austin again to see her. Another thought entered his head and he liked it a lot. If he took Virginia somewhere private, he could see her all the time.

  He rinsed out a mug and filled it with coffee that smelled stronger than when Becca made it. He plopped down on the blood-soaked sofa and made a plan for later.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  BLAINE AND FARRELL slumped in their seats in front of Chief Calhoun’s desk. It had been a long drive back from Marble Falls with not much to show for the effort, but there were possibilities. Maybe the old guy would shed some light.

  Chief Calhoun sipped his coffee. “They brought the body in from Saint David’s a few minutes ago and I think Sue said he was on the autopsy schedule for tomorrow morning.”

  “Sooner the better,” said Blaine, “If he’s one of the jackers, and I’m pretty sure he is, he’s got to tell us something.”

  “But the latest floater didn’t have anything to contribute to the other case y’all are working on?”

  “Not yet, Chief,” said Farrell, but if the old dude has prints in the system we might get a locate on where the hell these river guys are coming from.”

  “Shouldn’t take long to run his prints,” said the Chief, “but I don’t know when the morgue will get to him.”

  Travis stuck his head in the door, and the Chief waved him in. “You back from the hospital?”

  “Yep. Talked to the doctor who found the body, and he’s sure the guy was alive when he was left at the door. He probably died from infection in the gunshot wound but that will come out in the autopsy. His prints confirmed that he is Nate Wall, one of the car-jackers. If we had the bullet it would match Jesse’s Beretta, I’m thinking.”

  “Anybody else at the hospital see anything?” asked Blaine. “Like night security?”

  “Interviewed Bob Thatcher. He was the guard on duty,” said Travis, “but he didn’t see a damn thing. I think the best lead is on the cam. I watched it once after I picked it up from Lopez, but I want to cue it up again and see what you guys think.”

  “Got it with you?” asked the Chie
f. “Blacky can set it up for us. He’s better at that stuff than I am.”

  Using the Chief’s desktop, Blaine fast-forwarded until Travis told him to stop.

  “Back it up a bit.” Travis pointed, “there, that’s a pickup coming through the rows of parked cars heading towards the doctors’ special door.”

  “Who in hell drives a pink truck?” asked the Chief.

  “Jesus in a hand-cart,” mumbled Farrell.

  Cherokee Trailer Park.

  MASON TRUDGED down the narrow dirt road past three of his neighbor’s trailers—exact clones of his—and at the end of the street next to an empty lot he reached old Bonehead’s trailer. He wondered why he didn’t think of it before—the old asshole never went out—he was bound to have money laying around. He must have been getting Social Security checks for years.

  Mason pushed the front door open, stepped inside and immediately screwed up his sore face. The place stunk like something. Animal shit. He started across the living room and two cats darted in front of him. The orange one ran between his legs, almost tripping him. “Shit, cats. They stink.”

  He started opening kitchen drawers one by one and found nothing but junk. The cats meowed loudly in unison and swarmed around his legs. He kicked at them and hollered, “Get out of here kitty cats.” Mason looked down and saw the line of empty bowls. “Oh, shit, you guys are hungry.” He opened a few more cupboard doors and found a bag of Purina with a cat’s picture on the front. He filled up the bowls and ran one full of water. “There y’all go. Don’t say I never did nothing nice for nobody.”

  With the cats occupied crunching on kibbles, he moved on to the old man’s bedroom and had better luck in there. Two of the dresser drawers produced a few bucks, but he couldn’t retire on it.

  “Wonder if the old asshole blackmailed anybody else?”

  Mason moved aside a few shirts hanging on hangers and went through the closet. In the back corner, standing on its stock, he found a decent Remington rifle. He set it aside to take with him and kept looking.

  Mattress—people hide money under their mattress on TV. He pulled the quilt and the blanket off Bonehead’s bed, then grabbed hold of the thin, stained mattress and gave it a jerk. Bingo. Three packs of twenties neatly stacked with elastic bands around them.