“John Howard!” Elaine cried as she came running up behind him. “John Howard, are you all right?”
Stark lowered the Colt, turned to his wife, and slid his left arm around her shoulders. “I’m fine,” he said as he hugged her to him. “How about you?”
“Not a scratch,” she told him, to his great relief. “What about . . . them?”
“They’re all dead,” Stark said.
The SUV continued to burn, the flames crackling almost merrily now. Somewhere in the distance, sirens wailed.
Sixteen
The burning SUV sent up a dense column of black smoke, more than enough to draw the attention of the sheriff’s deputies who were already on their way out in response to Elaine’s 911 call. Only a few minutes later, a cruiser pulled up on the edge of the road a hundred yards away, and two deputies leaped out, running toward Stark and Elaine with their pistols drawn. Stark stepped away from his wife and held his arms out to his sides, making sure that the deputies saw his hands were empty. He had already placed the .45 on the ground at his feet.
“What happened?” one of the deputies yelled. He was young and nervous, a dangerous combination.
“I’m John Howard Stark, the owner of the Diamond S,” Stark said, speaking as calmly as possible, hoping the attitude was contagious. “This is my wife, Elaine. She called in about the murders of my uncle and one of our ranch hands.”
“Yeah, there are units on their way out there now,” the other deputy said. He was a little older, a little less shook-up by the sight of the blazing SUV and the sprawled bodies. “We were running backup for them when we saw this smoke and figured we’d better take a look.”
Stark inclined his head toward the burning wreck. “Those are the men who killed Newt and Chaco. We followed them, caught up to them, and then they tried to kill us.”
“Looks like it backfired on them,” the older deputy said dryly.
“We defended ourselves,” Stark declared.
“Maybe so, mister, but why don’t you and the lady go over there and sit down until the sheriff gets here? He’ll sort out all of this.”
Hammond couldn’t sort shit from Shinola, Stark thought, but he kept that to himself. He and Elaine sat down on the running board of the old truck, grateful for the shade that the pickup’s body provided.
The older deputy went back to the car to call for help on the radio, while the younger one stood there staring at the bodies and the burning SUV. He didn’t bother getting the fire extinguisher from the cruiser. The SUV was too far gone and would just have to burn itself out. With its lying on the pavement like it was, it was unlikely the flames would spread to the grass beyond the bar ditches.
“What’ll happen now, John Howard?” Elaine asked quietly.
Stark shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Will we be in trouble with the law for this?”
“I don’t see how. We acted in self-defense. Just to be sure, though, I’m not saying anything else until I’ve had a chance to talk to Sam Gonzales.”
Gonzales was the Stark family lawyer, the sort of attorney who handled wills and trusts and the occasional minor lawsuit. He wasn’t a criminal defense attorney. But Stark trusted his judgment and knew that Sam would look out for their interests. If he couldn’t, he would find someone who could.
Twenty minutes later, after the deputies had turned away traffic from both directions, Stark spotted a black Blazer with Mars lights on its roof coming toward them from the direction of Del Rio. That would be Sheriff Hammond, he thought, and a few moments later he saw that he was right. The Blazer came to a stop and Hammond climbed out, moving heavily and stiffly. He came toward the pickup with an unreadable expression on his face.
Stark stood up to meet him but motioned for Elaine to stay seated. “Sheriff,” Stark said with a curt nod.
Hammond ignored Stark and looked at Elaine. He lifted a finger to the brim of his Stetson and said politely, “Ma’am.”
“Hello, Sheriff,” she said.
Hammond shifted his gaze back to Stark. “Looks like a battlefield out here,” he said.
“That’s about what it amounts to,” Stark agreed. “You heard what happened to my uncle and Chaco Hernandez?”
“I heard. That’s where I was headed when the call came over the radio about this. What did you do, Stark? Take the law into your own hands?”
Stark had vowed to himself that he would stay calm and not let Hammond get under his skin, but that was mighty hard to do in the face of the lawman’s arrogance. Bristling a little, Stark said, “I did what anybody would do under the same circumstances: I went after the men who killed my uncle and my friend.”
“That’s not your job,” Hammond snapped. “It’s up to the proper authorities to deal with criminals.”
“You can still deal with them,” Stark said. “You can put them in body bags and haul them off.”
Hammond grunted angrily. “You killed them all?”
“I don’t think I’ll be making an official statement just yet, Sheriff. Not until I’ve talked to my lawyer.”
“Got something to hide, do you?”
Stark just smiled, not rising to the bait. “No comment.”
Hammond stepped closer, his face red, as he obviously battled with his own temper. “Damn it, Stark, every time I see you lately, somebody’s dead. I’m gettin’ mighty tired of it.”
Stark returned the sheriff’s angry stare. “Not as tired as I am.”
The two men faced off for a long moment, and then Hammond said, “All right, if that’s the way you want it, you’re under arrest for manslaughter, Stark. I’ve heard enough to justify that.”
“Arrest!” Elaine exclaimed. “Sheriff, you can’t be serious! We didn’t do anything wrong—”
Stark motioned for her to be quiet, and Hammond said, “Be glad you’re not under arrest, too, ma’am. But I reckon you were just doing what this crazy husband of yours forced you to do.”
For a second Stark was afraid Elaine was going to come up off that running board and go after Hammond, and he was ready to get in her way and hold her back if she tried it. The last thing they needed right now was for her to wind up behind bars, too. He needed her on the outside to get in touch with Sam Gonzales as soon as possible and get started on a legal solution to this madness.
Luckily, the same thoughts must have gone through Elaine’s head, because she stayed where she was. From the look in her eyes, though, she would have cheerfully carved Hammond a new one if given half a chance.
Stark was still a little stunned and disbelieving that Hammond would arrest him, but now that he thought about it, the move made sense. Those were Ramirez’s men lying dead in the road and burned up in the SUV, and Hammond was being paid off by Ramirez. He would want to demonstrate to the Vulture that he was looking out for Ramirez’s best interests.
Stark suddenly worried that if he was taken to the Val Verde County Jail, he might never come out of it alive. There were all kinds of ways a man could die while in police custody: an arranged fight in the lockup, a faked escape attempt, even a suicide that was really anything but. Hammond might think it would really be a feather in his cap where Ramirez was concerned if he could get rid of Stark without any suspicion falling on the Vulture himself.
On the other hand, if Ramirez wanted Stark dead, as seemed very likely, he would probably want everyone to know that he was responsible. Ruthlessly crushing his enemies and their families just added to Ramirez’s mystique and power. But would Hammond realize that, or would he try to curry favor by getting rid of Stark right away?
There was no way of knowing, but Stark knew he would need to be on his toes from here on out. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down even for a minute.
Those thoughts flashed through Stark’s mind as Hammond continued, “Turn around and put your hands behind your back, Stark. You’ll have to be cuffed.”
Stark complied with the order. Hammond snapped the cuffs on him. It was a humiliating feelin
g, and Stark grated his teeth together in anger and frustration.
“Get hold of Sam and have him meet us at the jail,” Stark said as he looked down at Elaine. She nodded in understanding. “And call the ranch and get somebody out there to see to Newt and Chaco.”
“No need for that,” Hammond said. “My men are already on the scene. The medical examiner will take custody of the bodies.”
Stark looked around at the sheriff. “They’d better be treated right.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Hammond said. “You got bigger problems on your plate right now, Stark.”
Stark was put into the backseat of Hammond’s Blazer with a deputy to guard him. The sheriff drove back to Del Rio. When they got to the sprawling complex that made up the sheriff’s office and jail, Stark saw that Elaine had done what he asked of her. Sam Gonzales was waiting on the steps outside the entrance.
Gonzales was a stocky man in his fifties with prominent ears and close-cut gray hair. He was in shirtsleeves, with his tie loosened against the heat. As Stark was taken out of the backseat of the Blazer, Gonzales hustled over and said, “I want to talk to my client, Sheriff. Has he been read his rights?”
“He sure has,” Hammond replied. “Ask him yourself.”
Stark nodded when Gonzales looked at him. “The deputy went over them while we were coming into town. Anybody who’s watched TV in the last twenty years knows ’em anyway.”
Hammond grunted. “Maybe so, but you ain’t gettin’ any grounds for appeal from this office, Stark.” To the deputy he snapped, “Take him in and book him.”
“I want to talk to him,” Gonzales insisted.
“After he’s been booked.” With that, Hammond took hold of Stark’s left arm while the deputy took the right. Between them, they marched him into the building.
The next little while was a disconcerting mixture of the familiar and the bizarre. Familiar because, as Stark had said, he had watched countless scenes on television and in the movies of a suspected criminal being fingerprinted, photographed, and booked into jail. Bizarre because he had never expected to find himself in such a situation. When it was finally over, though, he found himself in a small room furnished with only a table and a couple of chairs. He still wore his own clothes, minus his belt, hat, and all his other personal belongings, and Sam Gonzales sat across the table from him, a worried look on his round face.
“This is bad, John Howard,” Gonzales said.
“Not too bad,” Stark said with a shrug. “I halfway expected the ol’ ley de fuego on the way into town.”
Gonzales stared at him. “You really thought they’d shoot you and say you were trying to escape?”
“The possibility crossed my mind.” He looked around. “Just like the possibility that this room is bugged.”
“I don’t care if it is,” Gonzales said, a touch of defiance in his voice. “You’re not going to tell me anything except the truth, and since I know you’re innocent, the truth isn’t going to hurt you.”
Stark wished he could be that sure. He was certain he hadn’t committed manslaughter; Ramirez’s men had been trying to kill him and Elaine, and they had acted in self-defense. Only a total miscarriage of justice would arrive at any other conclusion. Unfortunately, given the situation, such a miscarriage was entirely possible. The truth might not be any protection at all.
“Just tell me what happened,” Gonzales said. “From the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Stark did so, starting with the shots he had heard that morning and the worry he had felt about Newt and Chaco. As the story unfolded, Gonzales began to look more and more concerned.
When Stark was finished, the lawyer said, “I don’t know, John Howard. Hammond can make a reasonable case for arresting you, and it’s entirely possible that a judge would find cause to bind you over for trial.”
“What about self-defense?” Stark asked.
“The problem is, you didn’t see those men in the SUV shoot Newt and Chaco. For all you knew when you went after them, they didn’t have anything to do with that.”
“You know good and well they did!” Stark said in exasperation. “They were the only ones out there.”
“You can’t prove that.”
“And they shot at us!”
Gonzales shook his head. “Maybe because they didn’t know why you were chasing them and they were afraid of you.”
“That’s crazy!”
“Of course it is, but you don’t have any concrete evidence to support your side of the story. It’s just your word.”
“That’s always been good,” Stark said tautly.
“Yes, but not as good as physical evidence. You don’t have any of that.”
Stark wanted to get up and pace back and forth. He controlled the urge by placing his hands palms down on the table and pressing hard against it. “Both the men who survived the wreck tried to shoot me,” he pointed out.
“Again, they could have been acting in fear of their own lives. After all, John Howard, you had just shot out their tires and caused their vehicle to crash, a wreck in which two of their companions perished.”
“Good riddance,” Stark growled.
“You need to be careful about that attitude.” Gonzales sighed. “Understand, I believe you and think that you were right about those men. I’m just telling you how Hammond will make it look to the press.”
Stark frowned. “The press?” he repeated. “What does the press have to do with this?”
“This day and age, everything. Hammond will put out a statement blaming you for everything and making you out to be a crazy killer. Oh, it’ll be full of ‘allegedlies,’ but that’s still what it will amount to.”
“Can’t you do anything about that?”
“I’ll issue my own statement on your behalf, putting your side of the story out there,” Gonzales promised. “You’re well known around here and much more respected than Hammond is, and a lot of people will support you. But Hammond is the sheriff, and some folks will believe him, even though they’ll think such behavior doesn’t sound like something you’d do. I think public opinion will be on your side, but it’s sort of a toss-up.”
Stark looked around the little room. Suddenly it seemed much smaller, the walls much closer to him. Funny, he thought, he hadn’t known he was the least bit claustrophobic until now.
“So how long will I have to stay locked up?”
“The district attorney will decide later today whether to continue with the case or not. I’ll go see him as soon as I leave here and try to persuade him that he shouldn’t pursue it. But if he does, and I think there’s a good chance he will, you’ll be arraigned late this afternoon or in the morning, and the judge will set bail then. You shouldn’t have to spend more than one night in jail, and maybe not that much.”
“Don’t expect them to get in any hurry,” Stark said. “Hammond will drag his feet and keep me behind bars as long as he can.”
“There’s only so much he can do once the process is started. Don’t worry, John Howard. Even if this comes to trial, no jury is going to convict you.”
“You never know,” Stark said bitterly. “Remember that famous football player who’s still walking around loose, and those liberal politicians who get away with everything from murder to lying to a grand jury.”
“This isn’t like that,” Gonzales assured him. “There’s just one more thing I want to know, John Howard: do you want me to handle this, or should I bring in a more experienced defense attorney from outside?”
Stark didn’t waste any time thinking over the question. “You’re my friend, and I trust you, Sam,” he said. “Not only that, you were born and raised here, just like I was, and you know the folks around here better than any outsider ever could. You’re in charge of the case. And the first thing I want you to do, even before you talk to the district attorney, is to call Devery Small and ask him to get the boys together to look after Elaine.”
Gonzales extended his hand across the table. “Of course. I’ll do that right away. Thanks, John Howard. I won’t let you down.”
They shook, and then Gonzales got up and knocked on the door. The deputy outside opened it. Gonzales looked back and said one more time, “Don’t worry.”
When the lawyer was gone, two deputies escorted Stark to a holding cell. The door slammed shut behind him with a clang. He sank down on the hard bunk and sat there.
There was nothing he could do now except wait. His fate was in the hands of other people. It was a bad feeling.
But not near as bad as knowing that Elaine was out there without him to protect her.
Seventeen
Norval Lee Hammond was in his office when his cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and thumbed the button to answer it. “Hammond.”
“He wants to see you.”
Hammond recognized the icy tones of the man called Ryan. That cold voice made a shiver go through the sheriff. The message that it conveyed was even worse. Hammond hadn’t expected to be summoned across the border to the Vulture’s sanctuary again so soon.
But he hadn’t expected John Howard Stark to kill four of Ramirez’s men, either.
“When?” he managed to ask.
“As soon as possible.”
“Things are sort of busy here this afternoon. . . .”
“I’d advise you to find the time, Sheriff.”
That didn’t leave any room for argument. Hammond swallowed and said, “Sure. Sure, I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
Ryan broke the connection without saying anything else. Hammond set the phone down on the desk and looked at it, a feeling of revulsion going through him as if it were some sort of unclean serpent rather than an inanimate piece of twenty-first-century technology.
He had already spoken to the district attorney, a man named Albert Wilfredo. Wilfredo had been a little dubious about the case against Stark, but he had agreed to press charges and let a grand jury decide whether or not to indict him. The district attorney had been about to call the judge and see if he could set up an arraignment for that afternoon, when Hammond had asked him to hold off.
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