by Carolina Mac
“We have sodas?”
Travis pointed with the toe of his boot. “Fridge under there right by your leg.”
“Didn’t see it,” said Luke. He opened the door and pulled out two ice cold Cokes and handed one to Travis.
“Here we go,” Travis whispered.
“What did you make for super, Daddy?”
“Mashed potatoes and bacon.”
“Uh huh. Anything else?”
“What else do you want? It’s food.”
“I need something good. My arm is fuckin killing me.”
“Then you shouldn’t have mouthed off to no cops.”
“They pissed me off, Daddy.”
“What do I always say?”
“If you keep your mouth shut, nobody will ever figure out what you’re up to.”
“If they come here asking about last Wednesday night, you have to tell them we were all home watching a game together.”
“Sure. I’ll look it up and see what game was on.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
“How long do you think the cops will be hanging around?”
“Why, Joey? Got an itch you can’t scratch?”
“Something like that, Daddy.”
“Let’s go to the roadhouse and check out the talent.”
“We have to wait.”
“I know that. We’ll just line them up for later. Looking is all we’re doing tonight.”
“I could use a couple shots of Petron.”
“They’re going to a roadhouse,” said Travis. “I better call Farrell.”
Bluebonnet. Texas.
FARRELL was kissing Avery in the pitch dark kitchen when his cell rang. “Damn it.” He checked the screen. “It’s Travis.” He pressed the button. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“The Goldens are heading out to a roadhouse to check out the talent. Want to join us?”
“Where?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Call me when you know.”
“What’s happening?” asked Avery.
“I might have to leave sooner than I want to.”
“You have a lead?”
“Uh huh. I think so.”
“Can I come?”
“What about the little guy?”
“My Mom can come over. She doesn’t live too far.”
A bad idea. You should say no.
Smithville. Texas.
ANNIE met Tyler at the Stonehouse Inn. He was seated at a table by the window and there was a beer waiting for her.
“Ooh, you look so handsome, I could… never mind.”
“Like my new shirt? I know you love the embroidered ones.”
“Sure do, cowboy.” She leaned across the table and kissed him. “I’ve missed us, Ty. The us that met in secret and had hot times in the horse trailer and in the cab of your truck.”
“And in the back seat.”
“That too.”
“I want that back again,” said Tyler. “I’m lonely and miserable without any us, but I know we can’t let Jesse find out.”
“We should go to Santa Fe for the weekend,” said Annie, “and start over.”
Tyler leaned across the table and whispered. “I want to do that more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my whole miserable life.”
“We’ll make a plan.”
Sonora. Texas.
THE PECOS BILL ROADHOUSE was packed and noisy on a Wednesday night. No live band, but loud country tunes blasted from overhead speakers and that seemed to be all the enthusiastic dancers needed. Tables ringing the polished plank dance floor were filled to capacity.
Farrell pointed to a booth near the back of the cavernous space, placed his hand on Avery’s back and guided her towards it.
Lighting was dim, but the wooden walls seemed to be littered with signs and Texas memorabilia from the old cattle drive days. Annie would love the signs and she’d love to get her hands on some of those old tools too.
On the way through the crowd, Farrell kept his eyes open for the Golden twins but didn’t see them.
Once they were seated and placed their order Farrell relaxed slightly. He berated himself for bringing Avery even though it had been her idea. If a fight broke out, she might get hurt, or worse yet, the Golden assholes might see her, and she’d become a target.
Christ. Why did I bring her?
“Have you been here before?” asked Travis.
“A time or two,” said Avery. “Sylvie liked to dance, and we came with some girls from her work a couple of times.”
“You mentioned the diner in Bluebonnet,” said Farrell. “Where else did she work?”
“Downtown. She used to work in a lawyer’s office but that was a long while ago. Before she had Diego.”
“What office was it?” asked Farrell.
“I forget, but it was on the main street. I have some of her cards at home. I’ll give you one.”
“Thanks.”
The server came around and replaced their empty pitchers with full ones. Travis filled his glass, then headed for the men’s room.
Luke had been quiet all night, sitting listening to the music and drinking a lot of beer. Once Travis vacated the bench next to him, Luke stood up and held out a hand to Avery. “Want to dance, Miss Avery?” he asked in that slow Louisiana drawl.
She smiled. “Sure Luke.”
I should have asked her to dance before Luke did. What a fuckup date I am.
Farrell emptied his glass and refilled it from the newly arrived pitcher. He kept a sharp eye on Luke and Avery as they two-stepped around the dance floor.
Travis returned from the men’s room and sat down. “Why aren’t you dancing with your woman, partner?”
“Too fuckin slow,” snarled Farrell.
Travis hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Jeff is sitting with a couple of girls on the other side of the room, but I didn’t see Joey anywhere.”
“Maybe he went out for a smoke,” said Farrell.
“Uh huh. Maybe.”
Farrell checked for messages on his phone and looked up when he heard raised voices on the dance floor. Luke gave a large biker man a healthy shove away from Avery and turned her away from the action towards the table. Farrell was on his feet and running towards her when a guy grabbed him from behind and spun him around.
“Cops ain’t welcome here,” were the words Farrell heard before he twisted and smashed the guy in the face with his left elbow. The guy staggered backwards a bit off balance and Farrell booted him in the nuts as hard as he could. With a loud crash, the big guy fell onto a table and sent bottles and cans flying everywhere.
“Take her to the truck,” Farrell hollered to Luke as Travis joined in to help.
Before the dust-up could accelerate, two bouncers were on the scene shoving all the combatants out the front doors. “Take it outside then go on home y’all. Party’s over.”
“Good idea,” mumbled Farrell. “Let’s get out of here.”
Farrell helped Avery into the shotgun seat of his truck, closed the door then spoke to Travis. “Wait here until Jeff comes out and follow him.”
“Uh huh. Good plan.”
“Meet me back at the hotel.”
Bluebonnet. Texas.
THERE wasn’t a single light on in Bluebonnet as Farrell drove through the tiny village taking Avery home.
“I’m so sorry things turned out like that,” she said. “You were trying to keep an eye on the Golden guys and everything went to hell because I was there. I shouldn’t have been there. I can see that now.”
Farrell reached across the console and took her hand. “It’s okay. Worse things have happened. It wasn’t that bad.”
You knew better.
“But if I want to find out what happened to my sister, I should stay out of your way.”
Farrell parked the truck and walked her to the door. After one long, lingering kiss, he wanted nothing more than to take Avery inside and make love to her, but the guys were working and if anything broke op
en, they’d need help.
“Can you stay?”
“I want to, more than anything, but I need to be in Sonora in case Travis calls for backup.”
“Will you call me tomorrow?”
“Uh huh. Make sure you lock the door.”
On the way back to Sonora, Farrell took a hard look at every vehicle he met on the highway and cursed himself up down and sideways for taking Avery to the roadhouse.
Sonora. Texas.
TRAVIS and Luke sat in the unit behind the roadhouse until there was only one truck left in the lot. Jeff Golden’s truck. Travis had tagged it and they’d been ready to follow for the past hour. Lots of cowboys came out, some staggering drunk and some sober, all heading home, but not Jeff.
“Where the hell do you think he is?” asked Luke.
Travis drove around the front and the closed sign was in the front window. “He left with somebody else. Goddammit, we lost him.”
“Farrell will be pissed,” said Luke.
“Never mind Farrell,” said Travis, “I’m pissed enough for both of us. Let’s get some sleep.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Thursday, May 7th.
La Grange. Texas.
ANNIE woke happier than she’d been in months. She and Tyler were talking about giving it another try. She had to make a trip up to Santa Fe to her flagship antique store anyway and it would be wonderful to have a relaxing weekend away. Maybe they’d go to Buffalo Thunder and play some poker. She’d always loved that casino.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE was anxious to catch up with Farrell and see what the heck was going on in Sonora that could be taking so long. If there was going to be trouble in Austin, he’d need everybody back where they could do the most good. He checked his watch and it was only six thirty. Way too early to call if they’d been up late on surveillance. He strode over to the island and poured himself another coffee.
Misty sees the new doctor today. Hope that amounts to something. Why can’t she walk? Doctor Lee Chang was vague, mumbling about motor skills. Maybe he couldn’t explain it. There were a lot of things about Misty that couldn’t be explained logically. Is that why he was so fascinated by her?
Shit, all he did was worry. Things got worse every fuckin day. He was adding cream to his coffee when his cell rang on the table. He jumped and slopped cream all over the counter. He left the mess, loped across the kitchen and grabbed his cell phone. The screen said Austin Homicide. Lopez. “Lieutenant, why the hell are you up at the crack?”
“Dead bodies don’t sleep in, Blacky.”
“You’re trying to dump one on me?”
Lopez chuckled. “Would I do that? Yeah, I would. But this one might be connected to your dude from earlier this week.”
“Frobisher? Another dead C-4?”
“Nope. Not this time.”
“What gang are we talking about?”
“Unlucky thirteen.”
“Okay. Carlos is a winner.”
“You guys got a pool going?”
“Maybe.”
Lopez chuckled. “I was waiting for it too. Had to come.”
“Where are you?”
“Not far from your compound.” He read off the address and Blaine jotted it down.
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
He called Carlos from the truck. “You’re a winner. Dead guy at this address. I’m going there now.”
“Hey, I made money while I was sleeping,” said Carlos. “I’m up, boss. Won’t be far behind you.”
Moss Street ran off East Cesar Chavez. A short street with row housing on both sides. Cheap rentals, most in need of serious repair. Blaine turned the corner and spotted the action. Halfway down the block, two squads and an unmarked had the street blocked off. The medical examiner’s van was parked at the curb. Blaine parked as close as he could get and jogged the rest of the way along the sidewalk.
Lopez looked up and grinned. “You made good time.”
“I live in the neighborhood, what does that tell you?” asked Blaine. “Does the victim have ID?”
“Nothing on him,” said the ME, “but the lady across the road who called it in said his name was Georgie Cardenas. She says he shares the house with some other boys.”
“And the roommates aren’t home?” asked Blaine.
“Of course not,” said Lopez.
“How high up was this guy?”
“No idea,” said Lopez. “I’ll have the gang squad send you what they know along with his sheet.”
“He doesn’t look too old,” said Blaine. “Can’t wait to see the ballistics report.”
“Wish I had your enthusiasm,” said Lopez. “Wore off a long time ago.”
Carlos and Fletcher caught up and stood behind Lieutenant Lopez. “Which one of you guys is the winner?”
Carlos grinned. “Guess it’s me. Easy money.”
Sonora. Texas.
FARRELL woke to the sound of his cell ringing in his ear. Without opening his eyes, he groped for it on the nightstand and only succeeded in knocking it to the floor. The ringing didn’t stop. “Okay, okay.” He leaned down and grabbed the phone off the carpet. “Hello?”
“It’s me, Farrell. I might have something for y’all,” said Jesse. “Found it in the third murder book.”
“Oh, yeah? Hang on a second, boss. Let me sit up and grab a pen.” Farrell kicked the sheets out of his way, reached for the pad and pen supplied by the hotel and got ready to write. “Okay, go.”
“The fourth victim, Lauren May Maxwell—the girl who went missing on New Year’s Eve—she worked at the Pecos Roadhouse slinging beer and she’d worked there about a month or more when she went missing. There are interviews with everybody who worked at the roadhouse and nothing came of it.”
“But you made a connection, boss?”
“Before the girl got that job, she was unemployed for a while because she quit her job at Twin Auto.”
“Fuckwads,” hollered Farrell. “Were the twins interviewed?”
“They were… and on New Year’s Eve they both had solid alibis from a buddy who threw a party at his house. The guy swore the twins drank with him all night and never left.”
“Who was the buddy?” asked Farrell.
“Benny Watson.”
“Goddam, that’s good stuff, boss.”
“Looks like you’re heading in the right direction, kiddo.”
“Aces, boss. I’m heading for the shower. I’ve got work to do.”
Lady Bird Lake. Austin. Texas.
AT THE CONDO complex, Blaine parked in the same spot he’d parked earlier in the week when Frobisher got himself dead. Carlos opened the wrought iron gate, they walked through the courtyard of the lake-facing units and rang the bell. Nobody answered. The three of them stood on the step for a couple of minutes waiting, then Blaine gave it another shot.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Wayne Mason jerked the door open, saw who it was and slammed the door in Blaine’s face.
“Not polite,” said Fletch.
Blaine pressed the bell and held it down.
“Get the fuck off the bell,” hollered Mason from the other side of the door.
“Open the door or I’ll kick it in,” hollered Blaine.
“Kick away,” hollered Mason.
Blaine hadn’t had his morning coffee and he was testy as a wounded bear. “Kick it in, Carlos, then stand to the side.” He motioned where he wanted Fletch to stand.
Carlos had the build and the strength to kick in any door. He took a step back, charged the door and booted it just below the lock. A loud splintering sound signaled all was well and the door flew wide open.
Blaine charged through the door figuring Mason would be facing him with a weapon and he was right on the money. Annie’s words were always in his head.
Shoot first if you don’t want to be dead.
Blaine fired twice. The first shot blasted the Glock out of Mason’s hand and the second blew out his knee and knocked h
im to the floor. “Call it in Fletch. Maybe the other asshole will be more polite.”
Carlos grinned.
Fletcher pressed the number and said, “Nice shooting, boss.”
Downtown Austin. Texas.
MISTY arrived at the medical building for her nine a.m. appointment. The specialist Doctor Lee Chang had referred her to had no openings for three months, so as a special favor to his colleague, the new doctor agreed to come to the office at nine to evaluate her.
Declan found the office marked Doctor D.W. Baker, Neurologist. He opened the door, wheeled Misty into the reception area and announced their arrival.
The dark-haired girl on the reception desk appeared groggy and disoriented. Not more than twenty-five and definitely not a morning person, she had a large Starbucks’ container next to her elbow, but she hadn’t flipped the tab. She let out a big sigh, trudged down the hall to tell the doc his first patient had arrived, then returned to her desk and sank into her chair like she was a hundred years old.
“Hard night?” asked Declan in his delightful Irish lilt, and she nodded.
“How could you tell?”
Declan didn’t have time to elaborate before Doctor Baker was in the reception area smiling down at Misty like she was a ten-year-old.
Fuck, this will be bad.
“I’m Doctor Baker, Miss LeJeune.” To Declan without a smile: “Bring her into my office.”
As soon as the doctor’s back was turned, Misty was shaking her blonde curls. She didn’t like him, and Declan was getting the same vibes. He held up one finger and pushed her into the doctor’s private quarters.
“I have her file here from Doctor Lee Chang and I admit I’ve never encountered such a mishmash of symptoms. Do you think she could be faking?”
Misty pointed to herself indicating she could hear the remarks, and Declan translated. “Could we not speak about Miss Misty like she’s not in the room, Doctor. She’s not deaf after all.”
The doc chuckled. “So sorry. I thought she was mute.”
Misty made the tiniest sound resembling a growl from a day-old kitten and two of Doctor Baker’s framed diplomas flew off the wall behind him and smashed to the floor.