Rose City Kill Zone

by D L Barbur

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  My first impression of the Sheriff of Meuller County was that of a large hat, a pair of boots, and not much else in between. He was not a very tall man. When he got closer, I could see the mustache.

  Alex had her credentials ready when she stepped up to the window. He put his hand on the butt of his gun.

  “Step out of the car please, both of you.”

  Alex shot me a sidelong look. I shrugged and got out.

  I disliked him the second I got a good look at him. He was a sawed-off son of a bitch, with general’s stars on his shirt collar, a paunch, and spit-shined cowboy boots. He was wearing a big Smith and Wesson revolver with stag grips in a hand carved leather holster. I couldn’t tell if it was a .357 or .44 Magnum from this far away, but my money was on the .44.

  “ID,” he said, and held out his left hand. The right was still firmly on his gun butt. Unconsciously I started calculating the odds that I could draw and drill him in the face before he could react and get a shot off from that big Magnum. If he missed with the first shot, I figured I could empty half a magazine before he recovered from recoil.

  We both plunked our IDs in his hand. Alex was taller than him, and I could tell he didn’t like it. She was trying to hide a smile, but alarm bells were ringing in my head. She’d grown up in Portland. The Portland Police Bureau wasn’t perfect, but you could expect a certain level of professionalism. I’d grown up in Appalachia, where the local deputies could get away with all sorts of nefarious shit.

  He ran his thumb over the surface of our credentials like he didn’t believe they were real.

  “I’m Sheriff Neal, of Meuller County. Why wasn’t I informed that there were two Justice Department Investigators on their way here?”

  Even though Alex was standing closer, he directed the question at me. I was tempted to defer to her to answer it, but I didn’t want to antagonize him more than our mere presence apparently had.

  “We didn’t even know we were coming here until this very morning,” I said. “Our office values cooperating and liaison with local officials. I’m sorry no one from our office has been in touch with you. It’s an extremely fast-moving investigation. I’m sure it’s just an oversight.”

  Alex gave me a raised eyebrow. I’d been working on my diplomacy lately.

  He tapped our badge wallets against his ample belly. I could tell he wasn’t wearing body armor. In a way I didn’t blame him. It was awfully damn hot out here, but I wondered if that was as much a mark of machismo as the hand cannon.

  “What’s the nature of your investigation in my county?” He had a gruff voice, but it sounded affected, like something he practiced in the car when no one was listening.

  “You have to understand, you’re putting me in a really delicate situation. I could wind up in hot water with my boss for speaking out of turn. Also, I’m just a little wheel in a big machine. I don’t have the big picture.”

  He scrunched up his face, in a look I suspected was supposed to be intimidating, and didn’t say anything.

  I took a half step toward him, looked around like I expected somebody to be hiding behind the sagebrush eavesdropping, and lowered my voice.

  “All I can say right now Sheriff is that if you happen upon anyone in your county that looks to be of Middle Eastern descent, I’d sure appreciate it if you would call our watch officer.”

  I pulled a business card out of my pocket with my left hand and we did an awkward little shuffle where he tried to hand me our ID and take the card at the same time. Finally, he remembered to take his hand off the gun and the whole thing got much easier.

  “I’ll expect a call from your boss no later than tomorrow morning,” he all but barked.

  I nodded. “Sure thing Sheriff. Now if you’ll excuse me, my assistant here is pretty tuckered out from a long day, and we both need to get our beauty rest.”

  He gave a curt nod at that, spun on his heel and seated himself back in his patrol truck.

  We got back in the car and I handed Alex her credentials. She was silent until Sheriff Neal pulled around us in a spray of gravel and drove through town going way too fast, then she punched me on the arm.

  “Your assistant? Tuckered out? What the hell was that?”

  I rubbed my arm. “Hey, I was just trying to speak the local lingo. I almost called you ‘little lady’ but I was afraid you’d shoot me right in front of him.”

  “A strong possibility,” she said. “What the hell was that?”

  I told her about the waitress at the cafe earlier.

  “I bet she dimed the sheriff up the second we left the cafe,” I said. “I tried to explain to Bolle that there was no way we were going to keep a low profile out here. The sheriff is probably on the phone with Webb right now.”

  She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as she waited for the single stoplight in town to change.

  “Seriously? You think he’s sold out?”

  I snorted. “Rural sheriff with a millionaire living in his county? I’d be surprised if he wasn’t.”

  The light changed and we pulled into the Shepherd’s Rest Motel. Judging from the thirty odd rooms, and the fact that there were three cars in the parking lot, it didn’t appear that vacancy would be an issue. Alex went into the office while I called Bolle and gave him a synopsis of the day’s events. I tried to let him know that my fears that we would be outed almost immediately had been realized without making it sound like I was saying “I told you so.”

  “Sounds like we’re off to a hell of a start,” Bolle said. “We’re ready to leave whenever you give us the word.”

  I looked around the motel parking lot. I could see the front door of the cafe from here, and would have bet a long dollar my waitress friend was inside watching me. The lot was visible from the gas station, the general store, and the trailer park across the street. The sun was going down and it was getting dark quick here in the land of very few streetlights. As I watched I saw interior lights come on in the trailers and businesses, but there were plenty of dark windows where somebody could be watching me with a camera, or even a rifle scope and I would never know it.

  “Anybody that shows up here is going to stick out,” I said. “So unless you fancy camping out on the BLM land, let’s wait until Dale talks to his friend. I feel like we’ve already lost strategic surprise, but maybe we can maintain a tactical advantage if we can slip the rest of you into the county.”

  “Agreed,” Bolle said. “I think we’ll split the difference and move to Dale’s ranch in Redmond. We can stash all our equipment and the helo there, and be a couple of hours closer to you in case something happens.”

  I agreed that was a good plan and signed off, just as Alex came out with four keys.

  “The clerk was monosyllabic, but managed to get us two pairs of adjoining rooms,” she said.

  For proprieties sake, we each took a separate room, then opened the connecting doors. I briefed her about my conversation with Bolle as she unbraided her hair.

  “I don’t think I was prepared for how small this place is,” she said. “I’ve always looked at places like this as a place to stop and get gas, maybe something to eat. I feel like there’s no way to be anonymous.”

  “There isn’t,” I said. “I grew up in a town not much bigger than this. It’s a different world”

  She stifled a yawn.

  “I feel like I’ve got dust in places there shouldn’t be dust. How about we both shower, then find something to eat.”

  It was clear from her body language she wasn’t inviting me to shower with her. There was a rhythm to the push and pull of our relationship. After we spent hours together, working, it was like she needed some time by herself before she could engage with me again on a personal level. Even though I was a fellow introvert, I’d had to learn not to take it personally.

  It only took me a few minutes to shower off the dust, dry off and get dressed, but the water from her bathroom was still running full blast. I found myself ants
y and unable to sit still. Television didn’t appeal to me so I grabbed the ice bucket and stepped out. The temperature had dropped fifteen degrees since we went inside, and it was hard dark outside. We’d probably need jackets when we went out for dinner.

  The ice machine was tucked away in a stairwell. It grunted, wheezed, and finally deposited a half bucket of ice before giving up with a final-sounding thunk, accompanied by a burning electrical smell. I shook my head and grabbed the bucket.

  There was a new vehicle in the parking lot, a big pickup with a camper shell, parked right next to our Charger, nose out. The damn thing was huge, with over-sized tires and some kind of suspension lift. I shook my head. I liked bigger vehicles, but that must have been like driving an aircraft carrier.

  I shifted the ice bucket under my left arm and reached in my pocket for my room key.

  “Ow!” I slapped my hand on the back of my neck at a sudden pain. It seemed like there shouldn’t be mosquitoes out in the high desert.

  My lips and fingers suddenly felt numb, and my eyes went unfocused. I swayed back and forth, fighting for balance. I felt hands on my arms and felt myself being lowered to the ground.

  I tried to yell but “nnnnn…” was all that came out.

  “Grab his legs. Don’t forget the ice,” I heard a voice say from far away. I tried to look, but couldn’t move my head. All I could see was the bright, diamond-like stars in the high desert air. More hands grabbed my legs and I found myself being carried towards my car. A hand dug into my pocket.

  “I’ve got the keys,” a different voice said. They were both men’s voices, muffled somehow.

  I heard the car door click open, and they stuffed me into the passenger seat. My fingers and toes felt like they were on fire like they were waking up from going numb, and I found I could move my head a little bit.

  “The paralytic is wearing off. Hurry.”

  Finally, I saw one of them. His head was wrapped in a shemagh, a traditional middle eastern headscarf. All I could see of his face was two glittering eyes. He was wearing a heavy canvas work coat and gloves. He pushed my head back into the headrest with a pillow covered by a trash bag. Another guy leaned in the driver’s door and pinned my arm, while a third grabbed my left arm.

  I could move, but I was still weak. I fought the rising panic that came from feeling like I couldn’t breathe due to the pillow.

  Smart, I thought. The trash bag keeps fiber from being transferred to me, or my DNA from getting on the pillow.

  I tried to fight, but couldn’t. I felt a sharp prick in my right arm, and a warm, soft glow spread through my body. I felt my muscles go limp again.

  “Done,” one of them said.

  They let go of me, and I felt my head loll to the side. A gloved hand put a baggie, a needle, a spoon, and a lighter on the dash in front of me. The door slammed shut, and I heard an engine start next to me.

  “Ahhh,”I said.

  I felt a wave of euphoria like nothing I’d ever felt before, and utter peace. It was nice to forget about Marshall, Bolle, all of the death and destruction of the last several months, and just lie there, feeling like I was floating on a cloud. I hadn’t slept well since last fall, and I finally felt like I could just curl up here in the Charger and nod off for a little while.

  I looked at the baggie of white powder on the dash and remembered Mack’s hotel room. I realized then that I was dying, but part of me just didn’t care.

  The other part of me was too stubborn to quit. I found the door handle with my right hand and pulled it. I tumbled out onto the pavement. The impact helped bring me around a little, but I couldn’t stand up. I tried to crawl, but that didn’t work either. I felt warm wetness as my bladder let go.

  Fuck it. Just go to sleep, a voice in my head said.

  But I didn’t. I saw my keys sitting on the ground next to me, and managed to make my hand work well enough to pinch them between my thumb and forefinger. I mashed down on the panic alarm button.

  The honking irritated me. I just wanted to be still and enjoy the feeling of being wrapped up in a warm blanket. I almost pushed the button again to make the noise stop but lacked the energy. Instead, I just looked up a the stars, thinking about how pretty they were.

  I decided to just shut my eyes and take that nap after all.

  “Dent!”

  Alex’s wet hair was hanging in my face and she was shaking me. I opened my eyes, but couldn’t keep them that way.

  “Shit!” I wanted to tell her to calm down and not get so excited, but no words would come out.

  I heard her pop the trunk on the car, then come back to me. I had the strangest sensation of floating outside of my body. I couldn’t see anything, but my hearing was very acute. I heard a zipper, then the crinkling sound of plastic.

  Something was jammed into my nose, and I felt a cold mist that made me feel like I was drowning.

  “Gahhh!” I said.

  The feeling of dreamy well being was gone instantly. My hip and elbow were sore from hitting the pavement, and I had a massive, crushing headache.

  “I’m not really doing heroin.” For some reason, it seemed super important that she not think I’d been out here shooting up in secret.

  “I know,” she said. She held a finger to my neck, taking my pulse. Satisfied by what she found, she grabbed the key fob and turned off the panic alarm.

  “Can you stand?”

  I was surprised to find that I could. Other than a killer headache, I felt mostly normal, compared to how I’d felt moments ago.

  I looked around. The big pickup was gone, of course. Our car’s trunk was open and Alex’s medical kit was on the ground and unzipped. A used Narcan nasal spray was on the ground.

  “You saved me again,” I said. I shivered, all of a sudden feeling cold. I wasn’t sure if it was just in my head, or the aftereffects of the drug.

  “Let’s go inside,” she said.

  A woman was standing in the door of the hotel office, staring at us, and down on the end, a guy poked his head out of a motel room door.

  “Sorry folks,” I said with a wave. “Got a little dehydrated. Not used to the climate.”

  The woman rolled her eyes and went back inside, and the guy shook his head but decided to stay outside and smoke a cigarette.

  Alex shut the trunk, shouldered her medical kit, and grabbed the stuff off the dashboard. Inside the hotel room, she told me to sit down on the bed, then checked me out by shining a light in my eyes and listening with her stethoscope.

  “This thing we keep doing where I have to check you out after you dodge getting killed is getting old,” she said. “What happened?”

  I explained how I’d been attacked. As I sat there in the bright hotel room, it sounded like I was telling a story that had happened to someone else.

  She looked at the back of my head.

  “There’s a little welt there, just below your hairline.”

  “One of them said something about a paralytic,” I said.

  She shook her head. “That’s some exotic stuff. Could be synthetic, could be plant or even animal based. I guess the goal is to render you helpless then shoot you up full of opiates and make it look like you overdosed. Just like Mack.”

  “Just like Mack,” I said and shivered again. “Am I gonna be ok?”

  “You should. The Narcan reverses the opiates almost instantly. Your heart sounds good, and your breathing is fine. I’m going to keep checking on you through the night. What now?”

  As if on cue, my phone rang. It was Dale. I put him on speaker.

  “Good news, Dent. I found us a place to hang our hats,” his voice boomed from the tinny speaker.

  “That’s good,” I said. “It doesn’t sound like we are safe now.”

  I gave him a brief rundown of what had happened to me. The phones were supposed to be secure, and even if they weren’t, the other side knew they had just tried to kill me.

  “These are some ornery sons of bitches we’re up against here,” Dale
said. “Let’s meet where we dropped the trailer. I’ll give Casey and the boys a heads up to be extra careful.”

  We signed off. It was the work of a few minutes for Alex and me to collect our bags. I felt a tight knot of anticipation in my stomach as I stepped through the doorway. I wondered if someone was going to blow us away.

  I still had a screaming headache, was a little uncoordinated, and felt alternately feverish and chilled, so Alex drove. There wasn’t much light in town, but once we hit the back roads, it was like we’d been swallowed by darkness, except for the paltry swath lit up by our headlights. Our rifles were on the back seat.

  “I’m sorry,” I said as we rattled down the washboard road.

  “For what?”

  “For not being more careful. I just walked past that truck like I was out for an evening stroll.”

  She was quiet for a while, concentrating on her driving. The rear end had a tendency to swing around on these washboard roads.

  “You can’t be on high alert all the time, Dent,” she said finally. “That’s what worries me. You’re good at this, but all it takes is one slip. We can’t keep getting lucky forever.”

  Exactly those words had been rattling around in my head for quite a while now. We couldn’t keep getting lucky forever.

  I jumped as the phone in my breast pocket vibrated. It was the CRYPTER phone, still sealed in its plastic bag.

  They know you are here, the message read.

  No kidding, I thought. I took the phone out of the baggie, not sure what I was going to say in reply when the phone lost signal completely. I put it back in my pocket and concentrated on hanging on tight and looking out for trouble.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  It was well past midnight by the time our little caravan arrived at our destination. In the dark, I couldn’t tell much about it. We drove through a ranch gate and stopped in front of an old farmhouse with a couple of lights burning. In the darkness, I could see vague outlines of outbuildings and farm machinery. When the breeze blew the right way, I could smell cow manure.