Hole in the Heart

by Carolina Mac

  “More on that later,” said Blaine. “We have a new lead.”

  The Chief raised an eyebrow. “How? I thought the killer was in the wind?”

  “Misty,” said Blaine. “Can’t explain it, but I can’t ignore it either.”

  “Where?”

  “Devil’s Lake, close to the border.”

  “I wish Farrell luck,” said the Chief. “Never seen him so stressed.”

  East Austin.

  TRAVIS AND FLETCHER parked in front of the first address in East Austin. A run-down four-storey apartment building covered in graffiti, plywood replacing the glass in the front door. Travis kicked broken glass and garbage out of the way as they walked from the curb to the entrance.

  Fletcher pulled on a pair of latex gloves before he touched the door handle. He screwed up his face. “You can smell the stink out here and we haven’t opened the fuckin door.”

  “You’re right,” said Travis, “This place reeks. Try not to inhale.”

  No problem gaining access, the doors were barely holding to their hinges. No security panel. Anybody could walk in. “Second floor,” said Travis. “No elevator.”

  “What number?” Fletcher watched where he was stepping as they mounted the urine soaked stairs.

  “Two ten.” Travis picked up the pace not wanting to spend a minute longer than he had to in this grunge hole. He stopped in front of two ten and hammered on the door. “Police, Mr. Maldonado, open the door.”

  A little boy, not more than five or six opened the door. “Lucco moved out and said me and my mom could live here.”

  Travis squatted down to talk to the boy. “Is he your father?”

  The little boy nodded.

  “Where’s your mom?” asked Fletcher. “Is she home?”

  “At work.”

  “Why aren’t you at school?” asked Travis.

  “I don’t go to school. I watch Andres.”

  “Can we come in?” asked Travis.

  “No. Mommy said not to let anybody in.”

  “Okay,” said Travis, “your mommy is right about that. How old is Andres?”

  “He’s a baby.”

  “Right,” said Travis. “Your mom left you to watch the baby.” To Fletcher: “Go out front and call child services. I’ll stay here.”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  AFTER the autopsy, Blaine headed back to the Agency to meet with Mary Polito. She was working on a big story about the gang war and needed input. While she waited in the kitchen, she watched wide-eyed as Misty and Carm brewed up something in a black cauldron that smelled suspiciously like weeds.

  Blaine made a face as he came through the kitchen door. “Are you cooking weeds?”

  Misty smiled and shook her head. She pointed to an open page in the book of shadows.

  “Oh, it’s a spell,” said Blaine. “Don’t let me get in your way.” He waved Mary down the hall to the office and Carlos followed.

  When they were seated Blaine asked, “Do you know Carlos, Mary?”

  “I don’t think so.” She offered her hand. “I’m Mary, press liaison for the Agency.”

  “I read your column,” said Carlos.

  Mary smiled. “I’m always happy to have a reader.”

  East Austin.

  AFTER a woman from Child Welfare Services arrived at the apartment and took the children, Travis and Fletcher headed south down I-35 to San Marcos.

  “That mother is gonna be sad when she comes home, and her kids are gone,” said Fletcher.

  “Maybe she will be but leaving a five year old to take care of a baby is not only illegal, it endangers both children. Did you see the filth they were living in?” asked Travis. “And who knows the last time the little punks ate a decent meal. I don’t like separating a mother from her children any more than you do, but we have to call. No way we can ignore something like that.”

  “So now we know the guy we’re trying to find ditched that woman and two kids and took off with another woman and her kid?”

  “Looks like it. I haven’t read his jacket, but Blacky said it was thick.”

  “Why in hell would a woman married to a high-ranking officer run off with a piece of scum with two strikes against him?”

  Travis shrugged. “No clue, partner. People do the craziest shit.”

  “I guess we get to see a lot more of it than most.”

  San Marcos.

  MALDANADO’S ADDRESS in San Marcos turned out to be a mobile home in a trailer park. Travis parked on the short gravel drive and turned the engine off.

  “No vehicle,” said Fletcher. “Maybe the dude has a job.”

  “Let’s check it out anyway.” They mounted the three steps onto a tiny wooden porch and Travis knocked on the door.

  A pretty Hispanic lady opened the door a crack and peered out at them. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  “We’re looking for Lucco Maldonado,” said Travis. “This is the address we have for him.”

  “He’s not here,” she said and tried to close the door.

  Travis jammed his boot in the door. “Are you Mrs. Santos?”

  “Not any more. I’m Maria Rivera. Did Roberto send you?”

  Travis held up his creds. “We’re police, ma’am. Investigating the murder of a man named John Hilder. Would you know anything about that?”

  “No, I don’t know anything about it. I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Who is it, mama?” asked a boy standing behind her.

  “Nobody,” she said as she tried to push the door closed.

  Travis pushed his way in and slapped a cuff on her wrist. “I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us, ma’am. You’re wanted for custodial questioning in a murder investigation and also in connection to a parental kidnapping.”

  “Why are you putting handcuffs on my mother?” asked the boy.

  “Your father has filed charges, son, and we have to take you both to Austin to straighten this out.”

  “I want to go home,” said young Roberto. “My friends are in Austin, but my mother said my father didn’t want me anymore.”

  Travis shook his head. “Not true. I’ll take you to your father and you can work it out.”

  Roberto smiled. “I’ll get my stuff.”

  “Fletch, get Ms. Rivera secured in the truck and I’ll help Roberto gather his belongings.”

  Travis spent a few minutes in the boy’s room while he gathered up his laptop and his games and packed his clothes.

  Roberto Junior took a look around the tiny bedroom when he was ready. “I think that’s it.” He smiled at Travis. “I’m happy I’m going home. I hate it here in this trailer and I don’t like Lucco.”

  “Did Mr. Maldonado hurt you?” asked Travis.

  “He yelled at me a lot and he pushed me a couple of times, but he didn’t punch me or anything. I’m scared of him.”

  “Uh huh. Does he work somewhere?”

  “No. He borrows money off my Mom.”

  Why would she stay with him?

  Travis held the door open and stepped onto the porch with the boy. “Oh, oh. Here he comes,” said Roberto. “He’s gonna be mad.”

  “Get in the front seat of my truck and lock the door.” Travis grabbed his bag and tossed it into the load bed.

  “I’m scared,” said the boy.

  Travis hurried Roberto into the front seat just as Fletcher caught sight of the approaching pickup and jumped out of the back seat with his weapon drawn.

  Lucco Maldonado parked his old truck and jumped out hollering and cursing. “You fuckin cops get away from my family.”

  “You’re wanted for parole violation and under arrest on suspicion of murder, Mr. Maldonado,” said Travis. “Get down on your knees and put your hands on your head.”

  Maldonado whipped a Glock out of his waistband and pointed it at Travis. Fletcher fired, and Maldonado dropped onto the gravel screaming and clutching his leg. Maldonado fired off a shot at Fletcher and it ricocheted off the front bumper
of Travis’ truck with a loud ping.

  Incensed, Travis charged forward and kicked the gun out of Maldonado’s hand. Fletcher picked it up where it landed and bagged it for evidence.

  “I’ll find you assholes and kill you for this,” hollered Maldonado.

  “Do it,” yelled Travis. “I’ll kill you back.” He walked away and called for an ambulance and a crew to search the trailer.

  They sat on the steps of the trailer, lit up smokes and waited.

  Del Rio. South Texas.

  IT WAS ALMOST one o’clock when Farrell pulled into Del Rio. It had been a long drive and the boys needed food fast. They gave a shout out when they spotted a Panda Express and Farrell flicked his blinker on. He lined up in the drive-through, ordered food and Cokes then drove to the back of the parking area.

  Jesse and Luke leashed the dogs and let them out to stretch their legs and relieve themselves. They’d been lying in the back of the truck for four hours.

  “Let’s hit the info center,” said Jesse as he took a bite of his egg roll. “We need a list of all the campgrounds around Devil’s

  Lake.”

  Farrell nodded. “Good plan. We’ll check them one by one.”

  The boys were still eating their take-out as Farrell found the tourist info center and ran inside. He came out with three possibilities. “Three,” he said and handed the brochures across the console to Jesse. “No state park. Three privately owned.”

  “Okay, let’s find the first one.” Jesse programmed the name of it into the GPS. “RV Paradise.”

  About fifteen minutes after leaving Del Rio they arrived at the gate of the campground. A huge wooden sign listed all the amenities the park offered. Farrell parked at the office just inside the front gate and went inside.

  “Need a spot?” asked a chunky girl with buzzed off hair. She had a silver ring piercing her cheek and it made Farrell wince to look at it.

  “No thanks. I’m trying to find someone.” Farrell laid his creds in front of the girl. “I need to see a list of everybody you have staying here.”

  The girl frowned. “I don’t think I’m supposed to show people that.”

  “You can show me.” He pointed to his ID. “I’m a Texas Ranger and I’m looking for a murderer.”

  “A murderer might be in our park?”

  “Yes, ma’am. And If he’s here I’d like to get him out of y’all’s way as soon as possible.”

  “I want that too. My dad wouldn’t want anybody like that staying here. This is a family park.” She reached under the counter and pulled out an old fashioned registration book. RV Paradise didn’t use a computer system.

  Jesse strolled in the door and tipped his hat to the girl. “How we doing in here?”

  “You a Texas Ranger too?” the girl asked him.

  “Jesse Quantrall, at your service, ma’am.”

  Farrell finished reading through all the names and pushed the book to Jesse. “I don’t think he’s here.”

  The girl blew out a breath. “I’m happy to hear that.”

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  BLAINE got the call from Travis in San Marcos and he and Carlos drove to headquarters to meet them.

  “They’re bringing in the ex-wife and the son?” asked Carlos.

  “Trav said, the suspect went sideways and fired at them. Fletch put one in his leg and he’s in the San Marcos hospital under guard.”

  “Good progress,” said Carlos. “Damn good.”

  “I’ll call Roberto Santos and have him meet us at DPS. He can take his son home.”

  “Do you think the wife set Hilder up?”

  “Santos does, so she must be capable of it.”

  “Hope she gives it up,” said Carlos. “Be nice to close a case.”

  Blaine made the call. “Mr. Santos, this is Blaine Blackmore. My boys have your son and they’re bringing him to headquarters. Can you meet me there?”

  “That’s fantastic news, Ranger Blackmore. I never expected they’d find him so quickly. I’m on my way.” He sounded excited. “Where am I going?”

  “Do you know where the DPS building is?”

  “I do.”

  “Meet us there as soon as it’s convenient.”

  “Oh, it’s convenient. Nothing more convenient than getting my boy back home.”

  Blaine and Carlos waited in the Chief’s office for the others to arrive. It wasn’t more than ten or fifteen minutes before Travis stuck his head in.

  “I’m putting Ms. Rivera in room two, boss.”

  Blaine stood up. “Great work, Trav. I’m glad you and Fletch didn’t catch any stray bullets.”

  “Me too.” Travis’ lip curled, “But my truck caught one on the front bumper.”

  “Where’s the boy?”

  “He’s in the waiting area with Fletcher.”

  “And he wants to be with his father?” asked Chief Calhoun.

  “He said all his friends are in Austin and he didn’t want to move away.”

  “Kids always get caught in the middle,” said the Chief. “Damn shame when the parents split up.”

  “I’ll talk to Mr. Santos, then I’ll interview the ex-wife,” said Blaine.

  “Hope she confesses,” said the Chief. “Save a lot of time.”

  Blaine strolled out to the waiting area and sat down next to young Roberto. “Hi, I’m Blaine Blackmore.”

  Roberto’s eyes widened. “You’re the super cop.”

  “I’m just a cop like the rest of them,” said Blaine.

  “I want long hair like you, but my Mom said no.”

  “I’ll put a word in for you with your daddy,” said Blaine.

  “Would you? That would be so cool.”

  Roberto senior rushed through the glass doors and hugged his son. “What would be cool, son?”

  “Ranger Blackmore said he’d talk to you about letting me have longer hair.”

  Roberto senior grinned. “The length of your hair is the least of my worries.” He hugged his son again, then turned and shook Blaine’s hand. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you found Roberto. May I call you later to find out the… details.”

  He doesn’t want to talk about Maria in front of his son.

  Blaine nodded. “Call me after seven.”

  Del Rio. South Texas.

  STONEY ACRES was the second campground on the list, and it was only about five miles from the first one around the north shore of the lake.

  Farrell hurried inside the office thinking they might be too late. Joey Golden had taken Avery two days ago and she might be dead by now. That was the single thought that had occupied his brain since he left Sonora and he was close to losing it.

  Wasting no time with pleasantries, Farrell slapped his credentials on the counter. “I’m looking for a fugitive that may be camped in your park.”

  The man behind the counter was in his fifties and going gray. He peered at Farrell over his glasses and said, “Is this a joke?”

  “No joke sir, I need to see the names of every person in this park.”

  “Don’t you need a warrant?”

  “Not if someone’s life is in danger. The person I’m looking for has a hostage.”

  “I’ve never had any problems. Campers are good people.”

  “I’m sure, on the whole they are,” said Farrell, “but in this case it isn’t true. Could you give me a list, please? The guy would be pulling a mobile home using a tow truck.”

  The man behind the counter raised an eyebrow. “I have a camper that matches that description in spot…” He pulled out a little map with names on it. “Spot forty-one. Near the water.” He pointed. “Follow the road around to your left and you’ll see markers in front of each site.”

  “Forty-one. Thanks.” Farrell booked it back to the truck, slid behind the wheel and stomped the gas. “Spot forty-one.”

  Luke hollered out the numbers as they whizzed along the narrow dirt road. “Thirty-two. We’re getting close.”

  “Odd number,”
said Jesse, “other side of the road.”

  “Forty on my side,” said Luke.

  “I see it,” hollered Farrell.

  “Stop here, kiddo,” said Jesse. “Don’t let him see your truck.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, boss. Luke and I will run from here.” Farrell was out of the truck in a flash and running towards spot forty-one.

  Luke followed then took a detour through the trees and ran around the back of the unit.

  Jesse couldn’t run, but he followed along behind in case the boys needed backup. When he arrived at the site he could see Farrell at the front door. He was standing to one side like he was supposed to. In a rush to leave, they hadn’t brought vests with them.

  “This is the police, Joey. Open the door.”

  Bang.

  A shot was fired from inside and blasted a chunk out of the door. Farrell’s SW was in his hand as he kicked the door in.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Farrell jumped back and stood with his back against the siding to the left of the entrance. Golden was peppering the doorway with gunfire and Farrell couldn’t get in.

  All went quiet for a moment.

  Bang. Bang.

  Two shots fired at the back of the trailer. Farrell risked a glance, saw nothing and ran through the trailer and out the back door. Luke was down. He laid in the dirt clutching his arm. “I hit him,” hollered Luke. “There’s blood on the step. Get the dogs.”

  Farrell ran back inside the trailer to search for Avery. One of the bedroom doors was closed and he opened it. She was tied up on the bed naked with duct tape over her mouth, her blue eyes wide with fear.

  “One sec, sweetheart. Calling for help.” Farrell ran to the front entrance and Jesse was coming in. “Need an ambulance for Avery and for Luke.” He grabbed a couple of kitchen towels and hollered, “Help Avery, boss. I’ve got to stop up Luke’s bleeding.”

  JESSE sat on the side of the bed and as gently as he could removed the tape over Avery’s mouth. She was shaking like a leaf and her teeth were chattering. Jesse feared she might be going into shock. He pulled a blanket over her bottom half while he freed her hands from the plastic ties, then covered her up to her neck, moved to the bottom of the bed and cut the ties on her ankles.