by Carolina Mac
Melanchuck gazed at Blaine through watery eyes, not really seeing him. “Uh huh. I was asleep, and I didn’t hear anything until I heard the shots.” He stifled a sob. “Why didn’t she wake me up? I should have helped her.” He covered his face with a handful of tissues and blew his nose.
Blaine took a step closer. “Did you hear the alarm?”
Melanchuck shook his head. “No.”
“Did you set it before you went to bed?”
“Yes, I always do. It was on.”
“Okay, thanks.” Blaine turned to Fletch. “Examine the panel. Take some notes and I want a comparison with the systems in the previous robberies.”
“Yep.” Fletcher headed for the foyer.
“Hammer, see if the uniforms came up with anything on the D to D. Also find out if they checked neighboring properties for cams facing the road. A lot of these properties are gated and have heavy security. Find out if there have been any vans cruising the area—like plumber, lawn care—the ones people tend not to notice.”
“Uh huh.” Hammer left on his mission.
“I’ll talk to the media,” said Blaine. He and Farrell strode into the street and the reporters mobbed them. Blaine held up a hand. “This was a robbery gone bad,” said Blaine. “The lady of the house woke up and interrupted a robbery in progress. That’s about all I can give you for now.”
Dozens of questions were shouted out and Blaine shook his head. “I don’t have the answers yet. Y’all will have to be patient.”
“What about Lovell’s trial, Mr. B?” asked a female reporter. “Will y’all be testifying?”
“Yes, we will. I believe Mr. Leighton’s team will begin calling witnesses tomorrow.”
“Do you think Lovell will get the death penalty?” shouted a red-headed reporter from the back of the crowd.
Blaine thought he recognized him and tried for a moment to recall his name. “That would be a positive outcome for me and my team, Mr. Burton.”
Mary stood near her car, lingering behind to speak to Blaine.
Hammer caught up with his notes in his hand and eyed Mary across the street. “That’s a hot looking reporter,” he said with a grin.
Farrell spun around and gave Hammer a shove. Blaine stepped between them and pushed Farrell backwards. “Don’t even think about it, Farrell. Get in your fuckin truck.”
Farrell slunk to his truck and Blaine clued Hammer in. “Mary is Farrell’s ex and he’s not over her. You didn’t know, but now you do. Farrell’s tense when she’s around, and she’s around a lot because Mary Polito is our press liaison. She’s part of our team so get used to seeing her.”
“Sorry, didn’t mean any harm,” said Hammer.
“Don’t worry about it. First days are brutal.”
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
JESSE lingered at the breakfast table catching up with his brothers. It felt good to be home, but he was still having pangs of guilt over leaving Annie at her ranch. He couldn’t have it both ways, and right now this was best for him and for Charity. She was a Quantrall and should be raised in her own home.
And best for Tyler. He was miserable without the baby.
Brian, the oldest of the five brothers and a doctor, asked Jesse the same question he did every morning. “How are you feeling today, Jesse? Any pain?”
“I’m feeling stronger every day now that I’m home. I have a little stress because I’m missing Annie, but we’ll still see each other. She understands.”
Tyler took the last piece of cornbread and buttered it. “Can’t tell you how happy I am to have my baby back. While y’all were gone pretending you belonged at Coulter-Ross, I nearly had an infarction of my own.”
Jesse smiled at his younger brother. They looked enough alike to be twins. Dark hair and eyes. Same height, although Tyler was more muscled up and the stronger of the two since Jesse’s run of coronaries—used to be the other way around. Funny how things change.
Jesse’s cell rang, and he set his coffee down. “Hey, Blacky, what’s new?”
Blaine updated him on the two new hires and brought him up to speed on the new case. “I’ll send you what we have, plus copies of the two previous robberies in Barton Hills. Take a look and see if you can connect anything.”
“Sure will. I’ll drive in for the next meeting. Let me know when you want me.”
“You guys get a new case?” asked Tyler.
Jesse nodded. “Bunch of robberies in Barton Hills, but last night one of the homeowners was shot and killed during the robbery. The Chief gave us the case.”
Apache Springs. West Texas.
DORIS BROWN’S hand shook as she made the call. “Hello, Sheriff Dobson, this here is Doris Brown, Sheriff Newcombe’s assistant.”
“Yes, I remember meeting you a time or two, Ms. Brown. What can I do for you?”
“Sheriff Newcombe went off somewhere day before yesterday and never came back. He’s been gone on a case overnight before, but he always calls in. Ronnie’s gone too, his deputy, and Ronnie’s mother keeps calling me.”
“I don’t know what I can do for you, Ms. Brown. Not my county.”
“I realize that, Sheriff, but I don’t know who else to call. What should I do with Stan’s store and with the calls that are coming in? I could use a bit of help.”
“What was Newcombe working on? Do you know?”
“No. Sorry. He never discussed police business with me. I only answered the calls and wrote them down on a message slip.”
“Why don’t I send a deputy over there to look through the office and see what we can come up with?”
“Thank you so much.”
“In the meantime, if Stan calls in or comes back, let me know.”
“I’ll be sure to do that. Thank you, Sheriff.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
THE crew sat around the kitchen table after lunch and shared their thoughts on the case.
“What did you get from the neighbors, Hammer?”
“The only thing that might be a possibility was the blind truck,” he said. “A lady living two properties away from the crime scene saw a van with something about window blinds painted on the side. She said she saw it more than once.”
“Lil, check with blind companies in the city to see if they had deliveries in the Barton Hills area in the last few days,” said Blaine, “and get them to send pictures of their vans.” Lily put it on her list. “And make appointments with the last two robbery victims. Set up a time for Fletcher to examine their systems.”
“Uh huh.”
“Hammer, go through all three cases and list the items that were stolen. Let’s see what the fuckers are after.” To Farrell: “Fences, bro?”
“Yep, once Hammer has the list we can go visit a few and see who’s lying.”
“Good. Do that and squeeze them hard. We need a name or a description or some fuckin thing to start with. I have to go to the rehab hospital to see if Travis can testify tomorrow.”
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
ANNIE tossed a suitcase onto her bed and wondered what she should pack. She didn’t even know how long she’d be gone. Sarah would sleep in the main house with the kids and put them on the school bus each morning. Declan was there to keep an eye on things, and Rosalie would cook for the cowboys. Annie was covered, but she didn’t like leaving the kids. It made her antsy.
After packing her clothes and toiletries, she stood in front of the gun cabinet in the great room wondering what she’d need for protection in biker land. A sawed-off, for sure, her Remington with the night scope, a couple of Berettas, maybe her twenty-two just in case—and a Taser—always handy to have in your purse. She gathered her arsenal together, put them into cases so they wouldn’t get scratched, and stowed them in her truck along with ammo for each. She ran back and grabbed a gun cleaning kit.
When the boys were at the barn for chores, she opened up the garage and loaded her Softail onto a trailer and hooked the trailer to her dark blue pickup. She’d have
to get a new truck soon, but she hated to. She loved her old Ram with the Viper engine. It reminded her of Jackson Traynor.
She kissed the kids goodbye and told them to be good for Sarah, and she was off.
What if I can’t find Santana for Bianca?
Austin Convalescent Hospital. South Austin.
TRAVIS sat by the window in his room staring at the lake. He had a long road back before he could work or be any use to anybody. Ginny had been good to him and visited him everyday since he’d been shot, but did he love her? He didn’t think so. Was liking her enough to start a relationship? Not for him. After the passion he’d shared with Annie when they’d been a couple, he’d had trouble starting over.
Ginny had been insisting he come stay at her house when he was released, and he had to make a decision. Life sucked so bad for him at that moment.
“Hey, bud,” said Blaine as he breezed in the door. “Heard you were leaving here soon.”
“Yeah, end of the week,” said Travis. “I’m glad to see you. Catch me up on what’s going on.”
They had a long talk about the new case and the two new hires and Travis sounded sad when he said, “You need manpower, boss, and I won’t be any good for months yet. I feel like shit.”
“Don’t get down on yourself,” said Blaine. “Court tomorrow, and you’re gonna put Lovell away. Your testimony alone can do it.”
“The DA’s office is sending a squad for me at nine,” said Travis. “Hope I’m up to it.”
Comfort Inn. Sonora.
ANNIE checked into the hotel and headed upstairs to her room. Texas was so huge, it had taken her four hours to get this far—about halfway—and she was tired and out of sorts. She needed food and a good sleep before she could think about how in hell, she was going to find a biker that was doing his damndest not to be found.
CHAPTER FOUR
Wednesday, October 31st.
Hallowe’en.
Apache Mountains. West Texas.
SANTANA couldn’t sleep. He gave up trying at first light, shoved his feet into his Harley boots and brewed a pot of coffee on his Coleman stove. Having no electricity in the trailer was no hardship for him. Roughing it was all about getting back to basics. To hear some of the other guys talk it was the end of the fuckin world. He’d cleaned up his trailer the day before and it still looked decent. Couldn’t stand a mess. Never could. His mother had raised him and George better than that.
Although George hadn’t stuck around too much after Santana’s eighth birthday—his big brother turned eighteen and he was gone—but Santana’s memories of George were crystal clear and etched into his brain. Tall and strong, with long black hair and black eyes that burned right into your soul. He told you something and you listened. Santana was the image of his brother and hoped he’d be half the leader George had been.
Santana had kept track of his brother through the years. George had moved to Canada and founded his own club. He was president and the power behind one of the most respected clubs in Toronto—The Regulators. Sadly, Santana also knew his brother had died a few years back. News got around.
Why didn’t I make an effort to see him?
Santana put aside the memories and the guilt and focused on the present. The second shipment had gone out and the club had enough money now to finish the clubhouse and buy what they needed to pump water out of the river running behind the lab. Santana figured they’d pump it up into a holding tank and let gravity do its thing.
He poured himself a mug of coffee and sat at the built-in kitchen table smoking. Soon the new home of the Varmints would be functional, and they could concentrate solely on club business.
He could use a good woman, but other than that one little detail lacking in his life, everything would soon be perfect.
Apache Springs Sheriff’s Office.
DORIS opened the store at seven, turned on the lights and the power for the gas pumps, started the coffee and swept the floor. She hadn’t even had time to count the float when a young Deputy in uniform strode through the door.
“Ms. Brown? I’m from Sheriff Dobson’s office. He sent me over to have a look at Sheriff Newcombe’s desk and his files. See if I could figure out where he might be at.”
“Yes, please, Deputy. I’m so worried about him. This isn’t like Stan at all. He always calls in from the cruiser and lets me know where he is.” She pointed down the back hallway. “I’ll show you his office.”
Doris led the way past shelves of bread, donuts, and hot dog buns, and opened the door at the end marked Sheriff’s Department. “Could I get you a coffee?”
“That would be mighty neighborly of you, ma’am. Could sure use one.” He sat down in Stan’s chair and Doris looked away. A feeling swept over her and she suddenly felt nauseous.
Doris took him a mug of coffee and the deputy from the neighboring county remained in the office with the door closed most of the morning. He emerged from the hallway when he was finished and stood by the front counter. “Didn’t find anything helpful, ma’am. You don’t have any idea what he might have been working on, you said?”
“No, I’m sorry. He was always out looking for the Varmints—you know, the bikers—but they left after the DEA busted their lab. They’re nowhere around here anymore.”
“Guess I better pay a call on the young deputy’s momma. She’s been worried?”
Doris nodded her gray head. “Thelma has called here at least a dozen times to see if the Sheriff came back with Ronnie. He’s her only child.”
“Give me the address and I’ll scoot on over there and see what she knows.”
“Thanks so much, Deputy. I feel better already.”
Doris checked to make sure no customers were in the store, then ran into the washroom and threw up.
Comfort Inn. Sonora.
ANNIE woke early, awake but not rested. She’d been uneasy since she received the letter and couldn’t figure out why. She forced herself out of bed, showered and dressed and she was the first one at the complimentary breakfast in the room just off the lobby.
She poured herself a coffee, took two tiny creamers and claimed a table. She popped down a bagel, sat down and checked her messages while she waited. Not a single message. Nobody even cared she was gone. Not even Jesse. He’d communicated very little since he’d moved home to his own ranch. She loved him and missed him, but some things were not meant to be.
Her reverie was interrupted by a voice behind her. “Miss, is this your bagel?”
She turned and a tall, good-looking guy in his twenties was pointing at the toaster.
“Yep, sure is. Thanks.” She put it on a plate and grabbed a knife and a single serving container of cream cheese. While she ate she unfolded her map of the state and studied the unfamiliar section of Texas she was heading to.
About two hundred and sixty miles to route fifty-four. I turn north there to get to Apache Springs. From there? Who knows? Apache Springs is a starting point, I guess.
Travis County Courthouse. Austin.
GUADALUPE was almost impassable; the street so clogged with media vehicles parked illegally on both sides, two moving vehicles couldn’t pass in the narrow alleyway in between. Blaine spotted a couple of uniforms writing tickets and tucking them under windshield wipers.
“Ticket every one of the fuckers,” he hollered out his window. He suffered no bigger thorn in his side than the media. They dogged him on every case and made his life hell.
Farrell growled as he squeezed his big Chevy truck through the narrow space, holding his breath and mumbling about the candy apple paint job on his Silverado. “If the street is like this, bro, what the hell is the parking lot like?”
“Must be full,” said Blaine, “and this is overflow. Jesus, this is a mess.”
“I’ll go around the block and see if I can drive in the back way.” The back of the courthouse was almost as bad, but far fewer media vehicles. Farrell urged the big red Chevy up and over the curb and he parked on a sliver of grass under a tree. H
e shut off the engine and heaved a sigh. “Wonder if I’ll get blocked in?”
Blaine slammed the door of the truck. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have every fuckin one of these assholes towed. We’ll get out.”
Farrell smiled. Blacky had a short fuse.
DOCTOR GINNY RODRIGUEZ pushed Travis towards the witness room in a wheelchair as Blaine and Farrell made their way down the crowded corridor. Photographers and TV personnel loaded down with equipment, jockeyed for position and compounded the already claustrophobic situation. Cameramen pushed in closer to film the beautiful celebrity doctor and her patient. Travis sat slumped in the chair looking like he shouldn’t be out of his hospital bed, his eyes closed and his chin on his chest.
Ginny wore a pale blue designer suit that accentuated her olive skin and long ebony hair. Having dropped out of the race for Governor after her kidnapping, she was old news—but still news. Many voters were still campaigning for her to re-enter the race. She had a faithful following all across Texas who hadn’t given up on her.
Farrell grabbed the door to the witness room and held it open for Ginny as she squeezed the wheelchair through. “Holding it together, partner?” asked Farrell.
Devoid of color, Travis nodded. Almost unrecognizable in a dark blue suit and navy tie, Blaine wondered about the wisdom of having him testify. “Ginny, maybe he should have been deposed.”
Black eyes flashed. “I argued for exactly that, but Travis wanted to personally put Lovell where he belongs.”
Blaine smiled down at Travis. “Yeah, he can be a bit mulish at times.”
The door opened from the courtroom side and the DA himself, Perry Leighton, entered the room. “Good, you’re here, Major Bristol. I was hoping you’d be up to testifying in person.”
“I want to.” Travis spoke in a barely audible whisper.