by Carolina Mac
“You’re the best.”
Blaine scrolled to Jeremy Hilder’s number and called.
“Good morning, Ranger Blackmore, do you have news?”
“Not yet, but I have news of a different sort. Catherine is going to call you sometime today.”
“Catherine?”
“Governor Catherine Campbell.”
“Oh, Jeeze, is she really?”
“Uh huh. I told her I’d let you know to expect her call.”
“Do you know why she’s calling me?”
“I do. She has questions about a service for John.”
“Okay. I haven’t thought about that yet, but I guess I’d better get on it. Thanks for telling me. I appreciate the heads-up.”
“No problem.”
Farrell ran in ten minutes later. “I cleaned my truck and I found this.” He laid a tiny heart shaped earring down on the table in front of Misty.
She nodded, picked it up and held it in her hand.
Farrell waited expectantly for an instant response and there was none.
Misty wrote on her pad. “I’ll keep trying.”
“Thanks, Mist.”
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
JESSE sat through the Sunday morning family breakfast at Quantrall without saying a single word to Tyler. He was so pissed that Tyler had lunch with Annie behind his back he might never speak to his brother again.
What else have they been doing?
In his head he knew it was all on him for leaving Annie when things had been going so well for them, all in an effort to raise his daughter on Quantrall land. Would it have been better for Charity to have a mother than Quantrall dirt under her feet? Had he made another bonehead move? It absolutely felt like it when he saw Tyler and Annie at the Bistro together.
He left the table and headed for the office to make calls. He hadn’t been doing his share to help his team. He called Sheriff Oxford’s cell wondering if he’d catch him on a Sunday.
“Ranger Quantrall, nice to hear from you. Did Ranger Donovan bring you up to date on the case?”
“He did and he’s carrying a lot of guilt. He feels the case wasn’t brought to a satisfactory conclusion.”
“No, it wasn’t, but not his fault. He did everything he could. Above and beyond. A fine young officer.”
“There have been no sightings of the tow truck and the mobile home, I take it?” asked Jesse.
“I’m afraid not. Don’t worry, I’ll let y’all know the minute I hear anything.”
Rollingwood Area. Austin.
ROBERT SANTOS lived in a sprawling rancher in Rollingwood in the west end of the city. Blaine had called ahead and made an appointment to talk to him. He’d read the file the night before and Farrell was reading through it as they drove. It wouldn’t take long. Hilder hadn’t managed to come up with much of anything.
The ex-wife’s name was Maria Rivera Santos, but she had dropped the Santos and gone back to her maiden name. John had done a preliminary search on the ex and come up empty.
Farrell knocked on the door and Santos let them in with a nod of his head. He pointed to the kitchen where he had coffee mugs and cream and sugar set out on the granite counter.
Roberto Santos was a stocky, muscular Latino with coloring similar to Blaine’s own. Blaine had checked his military record and he had been discharged at forty-five as a high ranking officer with a healthy pension.
Blaine sat down and opened the file while Santos filled the mugs and brought them to the table.
“I can’t believe John is dead,” said Santos. “Maria would go to great lengths to keep our son, but I never believed she would murder anyone.”
Blaine raised an eyebrow. “You believe your ex-wife killed John Hilder?”
“Of course, she’s responsible. She may not have done it personally, but she surely sent someone. That scenario makes more sense because I don’t believe she would ever come back to Austin. Young Roberto is no dummy and if he got away from her for a second here in Austin, he would know his way home. He used to take the bus with his friends with no trouble.”
“Does your ex have a new boyfriend or husband she might have sent?” asked Farrell.
“Throughout our marriage I was posted to bases all over and Maria followed me at first. Once Roberto started school she refused to leave Austin. I could see her point, but I wasn’t happy about it. I wanted to watch my son grow up.”
“Understandable,” said Blaine.
“On my last leave about six months ago, she told me she had met somebody, and she was divorcing me. Right when I was ready to retire and have a normal family life she goes and does that—and I know, she was lonely and all—but what the hell? Everything I worked for my whole career was down the drain.”
“What about custody of your son?”
“She agreed to shared custody and she agreed to live in our house until I came home, keeping things as normal as possible for our boy. Then we’d make some decisions and go from there. After I went back to base, I don’t know how long she remained in the house with Roberto. I was discharged, came home, and she was gone. So was my son.”
“Who was the person she was involved with?” asked Farrell.
“His name is Lucco Maldonado. He’s an ex-con. I didn’t find that out until I started doing some investigating on my own. The guy is a violent offender with a long list of charges against him and I don’t want him anywhere near my son.”
“That’s when Hilder agreed to help you?”
Santos nodded. “I knew John had his license. We’d talked a couple of times on my last leave. I called him when this problem came up, and he said he’d help me.” Santos dropped his head. “Now he’s dead because of me.”
“Not your fault Mr. Santos.”
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
MARY POLITO’S Mini Cooper was in the driveway when Blaine and Farrell returned to the Agency.
“Aw, shit, bro. Did you tell me Mary was coming?”
“I think I mentioned it, but you’ve been distracted worrying about Avery. You haven’t given me any details on that subject but it’s obvious how upset you are. How deep are you in?”
“I was going for it, bro. Couldn’t help myself and now I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. In the meantime, I don’t know if I can look Miss Mary in the eye.”
“Logical deduction—you’ve slept with Avery if you feel that way.”
“I knew it the first time I saw her that I was a goner, Blacky. Goddammit, I wish it wasn’t true, but it is.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky and find her.”
“What’s left of her. Joey Golden is a maniac.”
Blaine shook his head and went inside. “Sorry we’re late, Mary. I hope you had a coffee while you were waiting.”
Mary smiled. Farrell’s ex was a cute little brunette with short hair and dark eyes. “Lily made fresh coffee and we had a chat.”
Farrell strode though the kitchen and helped himself to a Lone Star from the fridge. “Afternoon, Miss Mary.”
Mary beamed a smile at Farrell. “Haven’t seen you for a long while, Farrell. You been away?”
“Sonora, on a case.”
Blaine stepped in to save the day. “Mary, let’s talk in my office.”
Grady’s Irish Pub. Austin.
STILL IN A FUNK about Avery and feeling guilt-ridden about Mary Polito, Farrell headed downtown around ten. Between ten and eleven was the time the little underground network he was working into began hitting the streets. He hadn’t been around the past week and he wondered if he’d missed anything important. Tonight, he was interested in the gang war and the bombing—nothing else. He needed to help Blacky get a handle on whatever was going on.
He started at Grady’s Irish Pub, a dark dingy establishment home to a lesser crowd. The bar was half empty when he arrived, but it would fill up when the pimps, the hookers and the dealers woke up and sobered up and got busy.
Farrell took a booth about halfway back from the do
or. From his position he could see what was going on at the bar and he had a clear view of the door to see who or what was dragging in.
He finished a pitcher of beer and was waiting on a refill and an order of hot wings when Kamps came through the front door with another guy. They spotted Farrell right away and slid into the booth opposite him.
“Where the hell you been, asshole?” asked Kamps. “Think I can hold on to solid gold shit like forever?”
“Out of town on a case.” Farrell waved his arm at the bartender and fat old Mike lumbered over.
“What do you want?” growled Mike. “This better be worth my trip over here.”
“Another pitcher, two more glasses and another order of hot wings.”
“Uh huh.”
“This here is Vic Reyes, my buddy. He wants in on the cash grab you and your bandito brother are offering.”
Farrell reached across the table and shook hands with Vic Reyes. A short Hispanic guy with a dandy scar across his right cheek. Long hair and lots of tats. Ganger.
“Vic, welcome aboard,” said Farrell. “No signing bonus. You got to bust your ass before I pay you.”
“I got it.”
Farrell leaned in closer. “What’s the news on the bombing?”
Vic held out his hand.
Farrell pulled out his wallet and put two fifties on the table—one each. Vic reached for one and Farrell shook his head. “Tell me the story.”
“Unlucky thirteen is what I heard,” said Vic. “Payback time.”
Kamps added his two cents worth. “The number won’t do fuck all now. They be laying low. Low as they can get.”
“They taking the credit,” said Vic, “gives them power on the street. But I heard one fucker close to the top say it weren’t them.”
“Oh, yeah? Who was he blaming?” asked Farrell.
“Outside source.” Vic nodded his dark head. “Yep. Outside source.”
“Like an imported killer?” asked Farrell.
“Yep, guess so.”
“Huh.”
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
MISTY put Avery’s earring under her pillow when she went to bed, hoping something would come to her in a dream. Things didn’t usually work that way, but they had once or twice before. Being a psychic wasn’t an exact science. From one day to the next, Misty LeJeune never knew what lay in store for her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Monday, May 11th.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
MISTY WOKE and reached for Blaine, but the sheets were cool on his side of the bed. He’d been up for a while. As soon as he heard her stir on the monitor, Declan tapped twice on the bedroom door and let himself in.
“Ready to get up, sweetheart?”
Misty sat on the side of the bed and tried to stand up on her own like she did every morning, hoping her brain would tell her legs how to walk like it did on rare occasions. This wasn’t one of them and she flopped back onto the bed.
Declan smiled. “You’ve done it twice before and one of these mornings you’ll do it again.” He pushed the wheelchair closer and turned her around. “Bathroom first.”
Misty nodded.
After the bathroom, Declan pushed her into the wide upstairs hallway and she pointed at Farrell’s door.
“You need Farrell?” asked Declan.
Misty nodded, and Declan opened Farrell’s door and stuck his head in. “Misty wants to see you.”
Farrell was out of bed and half dressed, zipping up the fly on his jeans. “I’ll meet her in the kitchen in two secs.”
Misty sat at the kitchen table drawing on her notepad while she waited for her tea to steep. Farrell tore down the stairs and stood behind her.
“Did you get something from the earring?”
She nodded and pointed to what she was drawing. Farrell watched with interest as Misty drew lines and more lines until it looked like a map. She drew a couple of little tents, then water. Under it all she drew a wiggly line. Beneath the wiggly line she drew a sombrero and Farrell nodded.
“Uh huh. Mexico.”
Misty took a deep breath and beside the lake she drew what appeared to be a little person. Then she drew horns on his head. The devil. She shrugged and gave the picture to Farrell.
He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Fantastic.” To Carm: “Where’s Blacky.”
“Oficina.”
Farrell bolted down the hall and blasted into the office. “Help me figure this out, bro. Misty saw where Avery is.”
Blaine took the drawing from his brother’s shaking hand. “Let’s see what we’ve got. Okay, along the border there’s a campground with a lake.” Blaine pulled up a map of southern Texas and nodded his head. “Is this a devil?”
“I think so,” said Farrell. “I couldn’t figure that little guy out.”
“Devil’s Lake is straight south from Sonora. There must be a campground on the lake. Wonder why he hasn’t crossed over?”
“Left in a hurry? No passport?”
“Yep,” said Blaine. “He could have one, but maybe Avery doesn’t, and he’s stuck.”
“I’m calling the boss.” Farrell paced and pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “We’ll leave right away and take the dogs.”
“You guys take Luke,” said Blaine. “Jesse can’t handle a dog on the run.”
“Right.” Farrell could feel the heat in his face he was so wound as he scrolled to Jesse’s cell number.
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
JESSE sat beside Charity’s high chair in the Quantrall dining room and tried to feed her a spoonful of scrambled eggs.
She shook her dark curls and wouldn’t open her mouth.
“You don’t want any eggs?”
Bobby laughed on the other side of the table. “Molly said she hates eggs.”
“Eggs are good for you,” said Jesse. “Daddy loves them.” He offered her another tiny spoonful and she swatted the spoon away from her. Eggs flew and landed on the front of Jesse’s clean shirt. All his brothers snorted.
“Guess I’ll change my shirt,” said Jesse. “You try, Tyler. You’ve got the touch with the women.”
Tyler raised an eyebrow and he wasn’t smiling.
Jesse’s cell rang. He pushed his chair back and stepped into the foyer to answer. “Yeah, Farrell, what’s happening?”
“Misty got a read on Miss Avery. We need to take the dogs and go to Devil’s Lake.”
“Isn’t that right on the border? Why hasn’t he crossed over?”
“Don’t know, but I hope he doesn’t until we get there.”
“I’m leaving now. Bring another handler.”
“Luke is coming.”
“Twenty minutes,” said Jesse and headed upstairs to change his shirt.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
LUKE, TRAVIS, Fletcher and Carlos reported for work at eight fifteen. Blaine pointed to the coffee and then to the table. Time for a meeting.
Misty had retired to the table by the window and was reading her book of shadows and drinking tea. Blaine smiled as he watched her making notes.
She’s gonna conjure up something today, sure as hell, and scare the bejesus out of Carm.
He strode back to the table and organized the day. “Farrell, Jesse and Luke are heading out. Misty got a read on Avery Dennison and Jesse is on his way here with the dogs.”
Luke called across the kitchen, “Good job, Miss Misty. We needed help on that one.”
Farrell nodded in agreement as he filled a traveler for the road.
Misty looked up from her huge book of spells and smiled.
Blaine continued, “I’ve been doing research on Lucco Maldonado and I came up with two different addresses for him. One I got from DMV and the other was from his parole officer. He’s a bi-weekly reporter and he’s MIA. He hasn’t reported for his last two appointments and there’s a want out on him.”
“He’s the guy who might have killed Hilder?” asked Carlos. “I’ve been reading the e
mails Lil sent me every day but I’m a little out of the loop.”
“That’s okay,” said Blaine. “You’ll be with me this morning at the autopsy and we’ll catch up.” He handed a slip of paper to Travis. “You and Fletch take the two addresses. One’s here in the city according to his PO, but his DL says he lives in San Marcos. I don’t know how close Hilder got to finding him, so we have to start over. Hilder’s client, Roberto Santos, says this Maldonado guy is a real loser. I haven’t read his complete jacket yet but be careful when y’all approach him. Another problem you might run into is the kidnapped boy. He’s almost sixteen and he may want you to bring him home to his daddy or he may not. See what happens and call for backup if you need it. Both places might be old addresses and you won’t need to worry, but if they are both busts, canvas the neighbors at both locations.”
“Yep,” said Travis. “Neighbors are good info sources.”
“Sometimes,” added Fletcher.
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
BLAINE AND CARLOS arrived at Headquarters at nine thirty for John Hilder’s autopsy.
“Is the Governor upset about Hilder?” asked Carlos. “I guess she would be.”
“She is. I put her in touch with Hilder’s older brother and they’re discussing arrangements, I think.”
“Too bad the way things turned out. I liked the guy.”
After giving the Chief a shout out and a coffee, they headed downstairs to the morgue. The pathologist, Doctor Simon had Hilder’s body on the table and was ready to rock.
“Don’t expect to find anything too startling,” said the doctor. “We know the cause of death already.”
“No prints on the golf club,” said Blaine, “and Sue said only Hilder’s prints were on the cart.”
After the autopsy concluded, Blaine brought the Chief up to speed on the murder. He told him about Hilder’s client and a possible motive.
“The boys are out there beating the bushes for this Maldonado character now?” asked Calhoun.
“Uh huh. Two different addresses. See what turns up.”
“What about Sonora?” asked the Chief. “Farrell was beside himself the way things turned out.”