Final Table

by Carolina Mac

  “Let’s get you into the courtroom. You’ll be first up so you can get back to the hospital.” To Blaine: “I want you sitting at the prosecution’s table, so you’ll be close enough if Major Bristol needs assistance.”

  “Okay,” said Blaine. “Ready, Trav? Let’s do it.”

  They entered through the ante-room at the left side of the courtroom, Blaine pushing the wheelchair and Leighton walking behind. Farrell and Ginny had gone the long way around to try to find seats where there were none.

  Mary Polito sat two rows from the back with her notebook on her lap. She motioned to Farrell and he hesitated for a moment, but then squeezed in beside her. Ginny opted to stand near the door and wait for Travis to finish.

  The court was called to order and the prosecution called their first witness in their case against Benson Lovell.

  Unable to get out of the wheelchair and into the witness box, Travis was sworn in sitting down and remained in the chair.

  Rory Lumley, one of Leighton’s heavy hitters was prosecuting the case. Dressed in a silver suit, a perfect match for his silver-rimmed glasses, the tall, slim, ADA towered over Travis in the chair. “Ready to begin, Deputy Bristol?”

  Travis nodded, and Blaine inhaled a breath and held it. Travis had never looked worse.

  Lumley paced back and forth a couple of times then smiled at the jury. He’d probably given a dynamite opening argument and Blaine was feeling bad he’d missed it. He would have been in court except for the new murder case.

  Lumley began by reciting Travis’ stellar qualifications, his military training and his years of experience in law enforcement.

  “Let’s begin with you sitting in your truck, Deputy Bristol. Mr. Lovell was the prime suspect in four murders and you were watching Mr. Lovell’s building.”

  “I was doing surveillance of the suspect’s residence,” said Travis, “when I got a call from Blaine telling me the lab had positively matched Mr. Lovell’s thumbprint to a print on JoAnne Engels’ neck.”

  “Blaine being Ranger Blackmore, head of Violent Crime?”

  “Yes.”

  “Miss Engels was victim number three.” Lumley said to the jury to refresh their memories.

  “Yes.”

  Blaine didn’t turn around to look, but he was sure the parents of all the murdered girls were seated in the crowd behind him.

  “Go ahead, Deputy Bristol.”

  “Ranger Blackmore said we were bringing Mr. Lovell in for another round of questioning now that we had solid new evidence, and he was on his way to my position. I said I’d go up to Lovell’s apartment, get him and meet them in the lobby.”

  “You didn’t wait for backup?”

  “Blaine asked me if I wanted to wait for Farrell, Deputy Donovan, and I said arresting Lovell alone wouldn’t be a problem for me.”

  “You’ve arrested dozens of suspects on your own?”

  “Yes. Many.”

  Travis took a breath and continued. “I went up to his floor, I think it was the sixth, knocked on the door and announced myself.”

  “What did you say, Deputy Bristol, for the record?”

  “Mr. Lovell, this is the police. I need to speak to you.”

  “And did Mr. Lovell open the door?”

  “Yes, he opened the door and shouted at me. He said he was free on bail and the police couldn’t touch him.”

  “Then what did you do?”

  I walked through the door with cuffs in my hand and said, “You are under arrest, Mr. Lovell. I need you to come with me.”

  “And what did Mr. Lovell do?”

  “He yelled that he wasn’t going back to jail. Then he reached behind him, pulled a gun and shot me.”

  “And you’ve been in hospital ever since that moment?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m in a convalescent hospital now.”

  “Thank you, Deputy Bristol.” He turned to the defense table and said, “Your witness.”

  “No questions.”

  “You may go, Deputy Bristol,” said the Judge.

  Blaine jumped to his feet and pushed Travis into the ante-room to wait for Ginny Rodriguez. “You did great, Trav.”

  “Thanks, I’ll need to sleep for a week after that one.”

  Apache Springs. West Texas.

  ANNIE parked on the main street in front of the diner about one thirty. She’d driven straight through from Sonora and hadn’t bothered stopping for lunch.

  Inside the small restaurant, not much was going on. Two old guys in a corner booth were drinking coffee. They gave her the once over and went back to chatting.

  She sat in the second booth from the door. A long narrow diner with booths down one wall and a counter with stools on the other side. Door to the kitchen at the back beside a door with a washroom sign.

  Annie picked up the plastic menu, and when the woman with ‘Angie’ embroidered on her pink uniform came and stood at her table she ordered a tuna melt and a coffee. As soon as she ordered, she used the ladies’ room, washed her hands and came back to her booth.

  Angie brought her coffee first. A tall, thin woman with honey colored hair and too much makeup, Annie placed her on the high side of forty-five. She might have been pretty a few years earlier, but the wrinkles taking over her face were wreaking havoc with her looks. Annie guessed Angie was a heavy smoker.

  “Your order won’t take long,” she said as she paused a moment to stare. “I haven’t seen you in here before.”

  “I’ve never been to Apache Springs before,” said Annie.

  “Just visiting?”

  “I’m looking for somebody. Maybe you know him. Santana Dela Cruz?”

  Angie shook her head. “Never heard of him, but that don’t mean nothing. A lot of wide open country out here. He could be anywhere.”

  “Do any bikers come in here to eat?”

  Angie raised an eyebrow drawn in brown pencil. “Uh huh. Sometimes they do. They have a camp somewhere up in the mountains. Don’t know where.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Be better if you didn’t mess with them,” said Angie, “Better for your health.”

  Annie smiled. “I won’t mess with them.”

  New Moon Motel. Apache Springs.

  THE SIGN flashed ‘Vacancy’ and there wasn’t a vehicle parked in front of any of the rooms. “My God, how do the businesses survive out here in no man’s land?”

  Annie parked her truck in front of the office and went inside. The office was small, but clean and warm and smelled of baking. Maybe the owner lived in the front portion of the building. One counter with a few shelves on the wall behind offering essentials like toothpaste and razors. Two vending machines—one for Cokes and the other for candy and potato chips. Two chairs in front of the window. Hooks in the ceiling held macramé plant holders. Pots filled with vines turning brown.

  “Can I help you?”

  The short lady behind the counter had brown curls flopping forward into her brown eyes. Her cheeks were chubby and round, and she reminded Annie of Mrs. Santa Claus, only years younger.

  “I’d like a room for a few days.”

  “A few days? Do you have business in Apache Springs?”

  “Yes, I do. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, so I don’t need a check out date yet.”

  “Fine by me. I don’t have many customers, so you can stay as long as you like, ma’am. We’ll play it by ear.” She shoved an old-fashioned registration form towards Annie as she introduced herself. “I’m Karen Rose. Karen Rose Moon. I inherited this motel from my Daddy. Not that I wanted it, but its my duty to keep going, even though its not my calling. I’m a writer and I send short stories to a couple of magazines.”

  “You supplement your income,” said Annie as she wrote on each line of the form. “That’s a good thing.”

  Karen Rose smiled. “I don’t have one of those free breakfasts,” she said, “for one thing I don’t have a place for it, and for another, I can’t afford it, but I do offer coffee and muffins in the mo
rning. I get up at six and bake them. Y’all can come in and help yourself.”

  Annie beamed a smile. “Thanks, I do need coffee first thing in the morning.”

  “Why don’t you take room twelve. That way you won’t hear me clunking around, but you’ll be close enough to run over for coffee or sodas from the Coke machine.” She shoved a key across the green Formica counter.

  “I brought my bike,” said Annie, “It will be noisy when it starts up.”

  “You going riding up into the hills?”

  “I think I might.”

  “Watch out for the Varmints. I heard a rumor those bad boys were up there somewhere.”

  “Do you know where?”

  “You want to have a run-in with a bunch of bad-ass bikers?”

  Annie giggled. “No. I just wondered where they were.”

  Annie moved her truck and parked in front of unit twelve. The key was a bit tricky, but it worked after a bit of wiggling. The room was basic. Two double beds with age-old comforters and carpeting from the sixties, but it smelled clean and that’s what counted. All she needed was a clean bed to sleep in and a shower that worked. And coffee in the morning.

  Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  AFTER COURT Blaine held an impromptu meeting in the kitchen with the crew. “How did you guys do today on your own?”

  “Not bad,” said Fletch. “Lily made the appointments and I was able to see the security panels in the homes of the first two robberies up in Barton Hills. Both those panels were installed by Five-Star Systems.”

  “And what about the one yesterday?” asked Blaine.

  “Same,” said Fletch. “We’ve got three that match.”

  “Bingo.” Blaine pointed across the table at Lily. “We’ll need a list of their installers, and also any sales reps or installers who quit or got their asses fired in the last six months to a year. Maybe somebody is super pissed at the world.”

  Angela’s Diner. Apache Springs.

  ANNIE was one of three customers having dinner at the diner. She watched and waited, hoping one or two of the bikers would come in for a burger and she could follow them back to wherever they were hanging out.

  No such luck. She ordered a cheeseburger and fries and listened to recorded country music blasting out of a speaker in the corner. Angie offered her fresh-baked lemon pie, but she turned it down.

  After dinner Annie shivered as she crossed the parking lot to her truck. With the sun gone, the wind had picked up and it was bone-chilling cold. Driving to the gas station to fill up, she turned the heat on to warm up.

  The gas station had no more customers than any of the other businesses in town. Her truck was the only one at the pumps. If she got on some mountain trail, she didn’t want to run out of gas, there were probably bears roaming around up there. While she was inside paying, she bought a six-pack of Cokes, a six-pack of Lone Star, a large bag of Lays, a carton of orange juice and a twelve-pack of bottled water.

  The older lady at the register wore a sad and tired look on her lined face as she rang the purchases through the cash. “That’ll be forty-two fifty with the gas, ma’am.”

  Annie counted out the bills and laid them on the counter. “Are you closing up soon?” she asked the woman. “You look a little tired.”

  “Haven’t had much rest in the last few days since the Sheriff’s been gone,” she said. “Don’t know where that man has got to.”

  Annie nodded, not knowing what the lady was talking about. She picked up her change and carried the load to her truck. While she stacked everything in the back seat of the cab a couple of Harleys rumbled by on the highway heading north.

  “Yep, farther north,” she mumbled to herself. She reached into her truck and grabbed a jacket. Last day of October and winter was coming.

  New Moon Motel. Apache Springs.

  ON her way back to the motel Annie wondered about Jackson’s and Lucy’s Hallowe’en costumes. She left them ready for Sarah, but she hated to miss taking the kids into town for trick or treating. They were always super excited. As soon as she settled in for the night, she’d call and tell Sarah to take lots of pictures.

  Apache Mountains. West Texas.

  SANTANA sat on his deck and watched the sun go down over the mountains. A warm amber glow lingered in the sky and he figured it would be a sunny day tomorrow. When in hell had he started caring about the weather? Since he had time on his hands? Maybe.

  The clubhouse was up and running—not finished by a long shot—but usable. It was a roof over their heads and tonight would be the club’s first official meeting since they moved here. He’d been hearing a lot of flak and a lot of complaints about being so far away from everything—everything meaning women. But it was a better location for the lab. If they made enough meth in their new facility they wouldn’t need any of the other sources of income. He hated dealing with the hookers, and the young drug runners, and business owners who got behind on what they owed for protection. All the club needed was the meth—a big delivery every couple of weeks and life could become simple again.

  Two of the boys came riding up the trail and paused in front of his trailer. “Ready for the first meeting in our new clubhouse, boss?”

  “Uh huh. I’m ready.”

  Hondo spoke out. “We’ve got a few grievances to discuss.”

  “That’s what meetings are for,” said Santana.

  SANTANA brought the gavel down and the members stopped chatting and complaining. A good turnout. Forty-two had showed up—some that still lived in El Paso.

  Most had a beer in their hand and were ready when Santana raised a Shiners’ and said, “to the new clubhouse.”

  The boys chugged their beer and waited for the first topic up for discussion.

  “Pay the boys,” said Santana to Hondo. “Our second shipment was bigger than the first and the payout is bigger.”

  Cheers went up as Hondo passed out cash to each member.

  While the money was being handed out and the members were in a receptive mood, Santana said, “I know some of y’all have been antsy since we moved to the mountains, but I want y’all to give it a chance.”

  “When can we get some women in here?” shouted one of the boys from the back of the room. “I’m getting blue balls.”

  “Soon as we get the water system up and running. Should be by the end of next week if y’all get it done. After that, any of you who want to bring your woman to your trailer, do it.” Santana heard grumbling in the background. “Hey, work harder and make it happen faster.”

  “Yeah, boss,” said Parker, “You’re right.”

  The rest of the meeting was orderly with not too many complaints about the lack of sex, which seemed to be number one on everybody’s mind except Santana’s.

  Is there something wrong with me?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Thursday, November 1st.

  Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE worked on his second coffee of the morning and wondered when the prosecution would call him and Farrell in the Lovell trial.

  Lily pushed through the door wearing her pissed off look. “The owner of Five-Star won’t cooperate, boss. Says it’s no business of ours who installs systems for him.”

  “What’s the address?”

  Lily pushed a note across the desk to him. “It’s out near the airport.”

  “I’ll visit him.”

  Blaine strode into the kitchen. “Fletcher, you’re with me. Farrell, you and Hammer finish yesterday’s paperwork, talk to the Chief and update him, visit the lab to see if they caught anything at the latest scene, and get a date and time for the victim’s autopsy.”

  “Yep,” said Farrell.

  Hammer raised a dark eyebrow. “You get all that?”

  Farrell shrugged. “If I forget anything, I’ve got you to remind me.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  New Moon Motel. Apache Springs.

  ANNIE slept poorly in a strange bed and had been up a couple of times during the night wo
rrying about the kids and the ranch. After a hot shower, she dressed in jeans and a warm hoodie and walked the few steps to the motel office for coffee. No other vehicles were parked in the lot. She was still the only guest.

  Karen sent her back to her room with a refill on her coffee and an extra banana muffin wrapped in a napkin. Annie set the muffin on the table, sipped her coffee then spread out the map to see where she should go next. The map was useless, the scale too small. No mountain roads were marked.

  She jumped when her cell rang. Jesse.

  “Hey, sweetheart, how are you?” he asked.

  “I’m fine, cowboy. Away for a couple of days.”

  He sounded excited and didn’t bother asking where she was. “I’m working from home on a case with Blacky. I’m happy, Ace. I love you, and miss you, but I’m happy and so are my brothers. They missed the baby so much.”

  Annie ended the call and couldn’t hold back the tears. “I’m glad you’re happy, Jesse. But I’m not, and neither are the kids. We miss Charity just as much as your brothers did. What about us? Don’t we count?”

  She finished her coffee, slipped on her leather jacket and went outside to unload her bike from the trailer.

  Five-Star Security Systems. Airport Road. Austin.

  BLAINE parked his big Ram in front of a low square cinderblock building in an industrial area of similar buildings near Austin-Bergstrom.

  “Doesn’t look too flashy. They must have good stuff if they’re getting high-end customers.”

  “High tech systems,” said Fletcher. “These guys won’t be the manufacturers. I bet they order them already made and just install and maintain.”

  Blaine nodded. “You’re probably right.”

  On the way through the door, Blaine glanced at the name Lily had written, and said to the blonde-haired girl at the front desk, “I’d like to speak to Mr. Koss.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  Blaine flashed his creds and said, “We’re from the police, and I’d like a moment with Mr. Koss. It won’t take long.”

  “One moment, I’ll see if he’s free.” She jogged down a hallway to the right of her desk and was back in seconds with her boss behind her.