The Ackerman Thrillers Boxset: 1-6

by Ethan Cross

  Over his shoulder, Thomas White whispered, “Just do it. Pull the trigger. Those men would kill you in a second if they had the opportunity. And they’re all probably going to get the chance here shortly. Why not even things up a bit? At least put a little fear into them.”

  Trying to ignore his father’s voice in his head, Ackerman turned to Liana, who hadn’t strayed more than three or four feet away from him since the last attack, and said, “Seven. In case you were also wondering.”

  She cocked her head in confusion and asked, “Wondering what?”

  “Oh, I thought perhaps you were also wondering how many of them we could kill with the .50 cal before they could reach cover.”

  “No, I wasn’t wondering that at all. And it looks to me like most of them are behind cover right now.”

  He laughed. “You’re adorable. So tell me about Liana. And don’t worry, you can share anything with me. Your darkest secret. Your deepest desire. Innermost fantasies. I promise not to judge, and you’ll find that I’m a student of people, a sort of cultural anthropologist.”

  Liana still had that perplexed look on her face, but people always seemed to stare at him like that. She finally said, “I’m not sure that this is the best time to play get to know you.”

  “That’s the funny thing about time, Officer Liana. Time is always moving forward, unrelenting in its efficiency and its dedication to destruction. So, for all of us who are bound by the laws of space and time, there truly can be no other moment but right now. We, of course, should learn from the past and plan for the future, but we must strive always to live in the present. Because right now and right here may be the only time we have left.”

  Liana replied, “That’s easier said than done. When your present circumstance sucks, it’s a lot easier to look toward the hope of the future.”

  “Sounds like you just need to learn to make the best of your present circumstances. Trust me, there’s nothing you’ve ever been through, nothing you’ve ever seen or done or experienced or feared or felt, that I haven’t also went through and overcame.” He noticed her look down at his scars, that were now covered with a long-sleeved black shirt, but he sensed she could still picture his disfigurements plainly. She said nothing.

  Repeating his inquiry, he said, “So tell me about yourself. There’s nothing better we can do at this moment.”

  “There’s really not much to tell. I grew up down in the southern part of the Rez. I got out, went to one of your people’s schools out east. Ended up coming back to take care of my grandmother when she got sick, took this job to pay the bills. There’s not much to me.”

  Now, it was his turn to look at her in confusion. With a little shake of his head, he said, “You just listed a series of things that you’ve done or that have happened to you. While I can certainly make some judgments based upon this information, it doesn’t really tell me about you.”

  “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  Ackerman asked, “What do you love?”

  “That’s also a pretty vague question,” she said with a little laugh and a diversion of her eyes. “Are you asking if I’m seeing anyone?”

  Again, she had confounded him. That wasn’t at all what he was asking. He wondered why she would make such a leap in logic. He replied, “No I was merely—”

  His sentence was cut short by a red light that suddenly appeared in the sky beyond their enemies’ place of encampment. It was father down the road, heading toward the town of Roanhorse. Perhaps a mile or two away. Ackerman, of course, recognized it instantly as Marcus’s signal on what to do for the next phase of their plan.

  He and his brother had planned for a few different outcomes of the recon of the ranch and had established a different signal for each. The red flare was not the one Ackerman had wanted to see.

  Beside him, also noticing the signal against the predawn sky, Liana asked, “Is that your partner? You said he would send us different signals. What does this one mean?”

  Pulling away from the rifle, Ackerman found a place against a wall and allowed himself to slide down it to the plank flooring. As he did so, he absently replied, “That’s the signal that Maggie’s dead, and now we’re going to kill them all.”

  72

  Three days ago…

  The name-tag on the young woman’s shirt read, Officer Nakai. She opened the door for Maggie and said, “He’s on the phone, but he’ll be done in a second.”

  Maggie stepped into the small office at the back of the remote police outpost. The floor creaked beneath her feet, and the walls appeared paper-thin. Maggie took a seat in an old but sturdy-looking metal chair in front of the captain’s desk. His back was turned to her, a Stetson cowboy hat hung on a hook behind him. All she could see was his long black and gray hair pulled into a ponytail. He was speaking on the phone to someone who seemed to be a city alderman or tribal leader. Without turning around, he held up a finger to tell her it would be just one moment.

  Her plan was to slow-play Canyon into a trap, but she needed to know whether the local law enforcement had been paid off or whether she could rely on them as allies. So, her first step was to introduce herself to the highest-ranking local law enforcement officer and see if he could be trusted.

  Maggie was glad for the moment to survey Yazzie’s desk and the small room which he called home. The walls were mostly bare, a few pictures, a few rusty old handguns mounted to the wall. Besides the photos, there were a few American Indian artifacts and feathers. Then, among the plumage, Maggie spotted a photo that caused her to take note. It was of a young man dressed in an outfit very similar to the one worn by “X” from her mystery picture.

  As her mind raced through the possibilities, she scanned the rest of the wall and noted younger photos of the woman Vasques had told her was Reyna Canyon, another of those displayed in her mystery photo.

  And then, she saw a photo tucked in among the others that stopped her racing heart dead. It was a photo of a young man looking directly into the camera, a scowl on his face, and Maggie instantly knew she was no longer here investigating John Canyon.

  The man with the black eyes, the real Taker, was right before her.

  She was in the lion’s den, the belly of the beast. She considered going for her gun right there, but a feeling from a picture seen across the room and a memory that was a quarter of a century old wasn’t enough to condemn a man, and definitely not something that Maggie could explain to a “righteous shooting” board of inquiry.

  She couldn’t be sure at all, but somehow, she knew. She considered the X on the photograph. Could that have been some nickname that Reyna had for her brother, or was that perhaps his first initial?

  She scanned the desk, but all the name placard said was “Captain Yazzie.” She tried to scan the rest of the room, looking for anything that might have his name, but there were no diplomas, no awards.

  She was interrupted by Yazzie hanging up the phone and standing to shake her hand. The captain wore small oval glasses that were heavily tinted and completely hid his eyes. She knew there was no medical condition that would cause a person to have jet black eyes, but the little girl in her wondered if beneath Yazzie’s glasses were a pair of black orbs that provided a view straight into the darkness of hell.

  Yazzie said, “So, Agent, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the Department of Justice. I don’t believe I’ve ever met one of you before. Sounds very official.”

  Some part of Maggie that wasn’t scared out of her mind stood up, smiled, shook Yazzie’s hand, and said, “Actually, the Department of Justice encompasses several different agencies. I work for a think-tank known as the Shepherd Organization.”

  Yazzie smiled and said, “That’s funny. We have one of the biggest sheep operations in the Southwest right here in our little town of Roanhorse.”

  Maggie sat back down in her chair as Yazzie took his own. She tried to remember the story she had carefully composed when she planned to meet with the local police capt
ain. The lies wouldn’t come to her. Her brain was completely blank, and all of her work on her cover story and her plan to manipulate the locals had been erased by fear.

  She smiled and laughed nervously. “I just wanted to stop in for a moment. I don’t want to take up much of your time.”

  She noticed that Yazzie still seemed to be sitting up and poised for movement. He said, “It’s no bother. What are you investigating?”

  Fighting for a response, she said, “I’m not at liberty to discuss those details, but I’ll tell you this. It’s mainly down at the casino and so…it might involve employees who live in your district. I just wanted to give you the courtesy heads-up and introduce myself in case something pops up.”

  She supposed that, all things considered, she had handled the improvisational cover story pretty well. All she needed to do was get the heck out of there and make a phone call that would reveal to the world the true identity of her lifelong tormentor.

  Yazzie cocked his head in surprise and said, “Really? I hadn’t heard anything about any investigations at the casino. Have you spoken to all of the proper security personnel there?”

  “No, it’s hush-hush, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone. I’m only trusting you because you’re a fellow law enforcement officer. I don’t put much stock in private security people.”

  “I know the folks over there well. They’re quite good at their jobs. I’d be happy to put you in contact.”

  She smiled in response and stood. “I appreciate that, but it won’t be necessary. I’m hoping to be out of here soon anyway. I really don’t expect the need to involve them. If things pan out, I’ll be back to have a discussion with you about the resident in question, but at this point, only a courtesy call. So, I’ll just let myself out.”

  She moved toward the door to his paper-thin office, and she felt him stand and step up behind her.

  He said, “Whoa, little lady. I’m happy to give you insight and assistance. Why don’t you share the details of your investigation, and we can go from there?”

  She replied, “I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss the details of an active investigation with non-Department of Justice personnel. I’ll be in contact soon. Thank you so much for your hospitality, Captain.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, and…I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

  She nodded and said, “Thanks again. It’s Agent Carlisle.”

  “I meant first name. Mine is Xavier. I’ve never really liked it. A lot of people don’t know how to pronounce it.”

  Her terrified mind searched frantically for a response, but all she could manage was the truth. “Maggie,” she said. “My first name is Maggie.”

  She could smell gun oil and chewing tobacco on him as he winked and said, “I once knew a little girl named Maggie.” Her heart caught in her throat, and she considered whether she could actually vomit on him as a distraction for escape. She said, “Nice to meet you, Xavier. Now, if you would excuse me, I’m not feeling so well, and I’m dead tired. I’d like to get back to my hotel room.”

  “By all means. I’m here when you need me.”

  Maggie nodded to the young female officer on her way out. Nakai asked, “Are you okay, ma’am?”

  Maggie mumbled, “Yes, thank you,” as she stepped from the tiny Navajo Nation Police outpost.

  Her rental car was only ten feet away, but it seemed like a distance of miles. She fumbled with her keys as she walked toward the door. She pressed the button and dropped into the car, shutting it and locking the doors.

  Her heart hammered. She couldn’t breathe. Xavier. He was the “X” from the photograph. He was the variable she had been searching for. Captain Xavier Yazzie of the Navajo Nation Police was the real Taker.

  As she recalled the recent encounter, other memories that were once blurry now came into focus. She remembered seeing him at the pow-wow her family had visited, and she more vividly remembered that day and the face of the man with the black eyes.

  She started the car. As she did, she pulled out her burner phone and started to call Marcus, ready to burst with the information that she had just learned and afraid that her boogeyman would be coming for her. She kept her eyes on the door to the station, but no one came out. No one perused her. Her hand reached toward the gear shift to put the car into reverse, when a knock on her window startled the phone right out of her hand.

  She turned to see the smiling face of Captain Xavier Yazzie.

  Her terrified mind searched for the answer of how he had gotten out of the station without her noticing. There had to have been a back door, but she hadn’t seen one. She reached out for the switch to roll down the window—as he was motioning for her to do on the other side of the glass—but her right hand strayed toward her gun. If he made any move, she was prepared to pull the weapon and fire.

  Her teeth almost chattering, she awkwardly asked, “Did I forget something?”

  Yazzie laughed. “No, no. I don’t think you’ve forgotten a thing. And neither have I.”

  Then, with a blur of movement, she saw a tubular object appear in his hand and felt the wet spray in her face and eyes.

  Her training kicking in, Maggie instantly punched out and connected with Yazzie’s chest, pushing him back from the window. She couldn’t see anything. The world was going dark. She went for her gun. She wondered what he had sprayed her with. She had been sprayed with pepper and mace in the past, but this was something different. She pulled the gun from her holster but didn’t have the strength to hold it. Just before the darkness took her, she recognized the sweet smell as sevoflurane—a potent anesthetic that Ackerman had once introduced to her.

  Part Four

  73

  Although Liana had only known Frank for a matter of hours, she felt strangely at home by his side. During their time together, Frank had been shot at, cut, burned, and nearly bled to death. Through it all, Liana never witnessed him show even a hint of concern. But now, as he sat on the plank flooring, slumped against a wall, he looked deeply troubled. The thought of something that could bother Frank even a little filled her with panic.

  Liana knelt down in front of him and asked, “What does that signal really mean?”

  He looked up at her, and she saw that his cheeks were soaked with tears. “It means that my little sister is dead. And John Canyon is the man behind it. It means that Marcus and I will now initiate Plan C.”

  “What’s Plan C?”

  “The whole point of this standoff was to distract Canyon while my brother searched the ranch and wherever else he needed to. My job here was to keep all the little bees busy while Marcus snuck into the hive to see if they had stolen our queen.”

  Liana wondered why Frank always seemed to talk in riddles and analogies, and she wasn’t sure what it said about her that she was starting to understand them.

  He continued, “The red flare indicates that my brother either found her body for some other evidence that tells him that Canyon is responsible for her disappearance.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend.”

  “So am I.”

  “What now?”

  Frank said, “As I already indicated, we move forward with Plan C.”

  “But what is Plan C?”

  “The one that comes after Plan B.”

  She growled in frustration and said, “Can you give me the details?”

  “I’ll get close to Canyon and his men using one of the hostages. While I will distract them with a little talk, my brother will attack from the other side.”

  “Won’t they be expecting that with the flare going up?”

  Ackerman smiled. “Don’t worry. My brother and I are pretty good in a fight, and although every situation is fluid, we have several tricks up our sleeves.”

  “What about me? What do I do?”

  “You lay low and hope that my brother and I don’t get ourselves killed. If we do, you’ll have the other four hostages for leverage, but after I take Tobias out with
me, I’m not sure how much leverage they’ll be.”

  “I’m not going to do nothing while the two of you take on a whole platoon. What about the .50 cal rifle? How much ammo do we have for that?”

  Frank shook his head. “I won’t allow it.”

  “I can make my own decisions, thank you.”

  Looking deep into her eyes, his still glistening with the tears of a lost loved one, he asked, “Have you ever killed anyone, Liana?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “How many times have you drawn your weapon?”

  “Only a few. But I think I’ve proven that I can handle myself tonight.”

  “It’s not about handling yourself. I’m telling you this to protect you. If you’ve never taken a life, there’s no reason to start now.”

  “What about you? I don’t think they’re going to roll over and play dead for you.”

  “I’m going to do what I have to do because my brother will also be down there and the same men that will be shooting at me will also be shooting at him. I’ll do my best only to maim them, but I have a feeling that there may be some casualties this evening. However, that’s beside the point. This isn’t my first rodeo. With the number of people that I’ve killed, a couple more ghosts on my conscience isn’t going to make a difference one way or another. But it would start you on a road that you don’t want to go down.”

  “Those men out there are killers, every one of them. Some of them might be young, but trust me, I’ve seen the things that those boys will do to women. I’ve seen the hatred in their eyes. Right now, they’re camped out there with illegal weapons threatening to kill an officer of the law and federal agents, and as far as I’m concerned, that justifies anything that we have to do in order to protect ourselves and any innocents that might get in the way.”

  “Have you seen what a .50 BMG caliber bullet will do to a human being, Liana? It shreds them. It doesn’t put a hole in them; it blows them apart. As if you walked up and stuffed a grenade down someone’s throat. And don’t be so quick to dismiss those boys out there. There is no one, and I mean no one, who is beyond redemption. By taking their lives, we are interfering with a beautiful story that has yet to be told.”