by Ben Rehder
“We both know that's a load of shit,” Colby said. “Whoever cracked my skull took him.”
“Any idea who it was?”
“It's a real pisser. I can't hardly remember anything. All I know is that I was closing up shop and someone knocked on the door. I look out the window and there's two guys standing there in Moe and Curly masks.”
“In what?”
“In masks like Moe and Curly…you know, from The Three Stooges. Next thing I know, I'm waking up here last night.”
“You don't remember anything they said?”
“Nothing. I don't even know whether they came into the shop or not.” Colby bit his lip. “I guess I might have told them where Buck was.”
“Hey, don't worry about it. We're getting him back.”
“John, what in the hell do you think is going on? Would Swank really resort to this kind of crap just to get Buck back? We're talking about a bunch of felonies here, right? I mean, to you and me, getting Buck back is a big deal. But Swank has dozens of deer just like him. What's so special about Buck all of a sudden?”
Marlin wanted to spill his guts, to say, Oh, it's no big deal, I just think Swank is running some kind of drug ring out there, importing deer with narcotics surgically implanted inside them. But he kept quiet. Now was not the time. Marlin just shook his head and said he was doing his best to find out. Then he changed the subject. “Any idea when you're getting out?”
“So far, all they're saying is that it will be at least a few days. But to tell you the truth, I don't really mind.” Colby had a sly grin on his face.
“Man, I'd be climbing the walls,” Marlin said.
“I would, too, except I think I'm falling in love with one of the nurses.”
Marlin's stomach lurched.
“She's sweet and funny,” Colby said. “And man, you gotta see her, John. She looks like Julia Roberts.”
RED O'BRIEN COULDN'T decide whether he should be angry or afraid. After all, here they were, tied up in a room in Roy Swank's house. What kind of gratitude was that for the job they had done? And who was that Meskin man anyway? He sure didn't act like the wetbacks they had around Blanco County. Those boys knew their place. Sure, they might get to drinking sometimes and get a little big for their britches. But most the time, they kept quiet and did what they were told. Fear of deportation is what it was. But not this guy from last night. Hog-tied all three of them, including the stripper, and dumped them in this small room. And Billy Don was lying over there bleeding and moaning. Well, whimpering, really, because of the tape over his mouth.
There was only one chair in the room, a big leather recliner, and Red and Billy Don had let the stripper have it for the night. Right now, she was fast asleep, snoring like a bloodhound.
Red could feel the nylon ski rope around his wrists. He had been trying to loosen it all night, and he thought he was making headway. His skin was getting pretty raw, but he was getting used to it. He wasn't a crybaby like Billy Don. Man, he'd love to get himself free and go looking for that Meskin. Red had just started working on the rope again when the door opened and the man entered.
“Good morning, my frien's,” the man said with a fake smile. “I trust that you sleep well.” He walked over and looked down at Billy Don, as if making sure he was still alive. Then he stood over the stripper and put his hand on her cheek. She woke up with a gurgle from behind her taped mouth. The man eased the tape off the girl's mouth while holding a finger to his lips, telling her to keep quiet. Then he removed a pocketknife from his trousers, leaned behind her, and cut her free. “You just stay right there,” the man said. She rubbed her wrists but remained seated quietly on the chair.
The man turned to face Red and Billy Don. “My name is Oscar. Mr. Swank confirm who you are…Red and Billy Don. I think maybe we both make mistakes lass night. You should not have been on the property…and perhaps I should not have shot at you. But I think maybe you meant no harm.” He smiled as Billy Don began nodding rapidly. “So I come in here to find out why you were really here lass night. I think maybe you will tell me now.”
The man walked over to where Billy Don was leaning against the wall. “Beeg man…you look honest to me.” Billy Don nodded again, with wide eyes. The man bent down and peeled the tape off Billy Don's face. “Tell me…why were you here?”
Billy Don looked in Red's direction, so Oscar stepped in between them, blocking Billy Don's view. Billy Don stammered for a minute and then said, “Well, we just had a little too much to drink and wanted to show Crystal that big ol’ deer we rescued.”
Oscar's smile slowly faded. He knelt down beside Billy Don and unfolded the knife. “Let's have a look at the gunshot you received last night.” Oscar then cut away a swatch from Billy Don's shirt to reveal a hole the size of a pencil eraser in Billy Don's flabby midsection.
“Mister, that buckshot you used on me last night shore tore me up,” Billy Don whimpered. “I think I need to go to a hospital.”
“You are lucky you were just hit one time. Tell me the truth and you will be free to go wherever you wish. Why were you here lass night?”
“I already told you. Hell, we was just having a little fun.”
Oscar shook his head and stared at Billy Don. Then, without warning, he leaned down and worked his forefinger into the huge man's wound, tearing it open wider. Billy Don cried out in pain. Oscar got right in Billy Don's face. “You feel that? You feel me moving your intestines around? Yes, I believe you are right…you need a doctor. But first tell me the truth.”
Tears ran down Billy Don's cheeks, but he shook his head in defiance. Oscar said, “I now have my finger around your intestines. Start talking…or I'll start pulling. You end up looking at your own guts lying on the floor.” To the amazement of the other three people in the room, Billy Don remained quiet. His eyelids fluttered, as if he were about to faint. Oscar's finger came back out of the wound…and with it, a narrow, gray tube of intestine. “Look!” Oscar said, like a child spotting a butterfly. “I can see wha’ you had for dinner lass night.” He smiled at his own sick joke.
“Okay!” Billy Don yelled.
“Tell me the truth.”
“Just quit pulling!”
“The truth,” Oscar said, having fun with this little game.
“We was gonna steal the deer back from Mr. Swank and then sell it to him again,” Billy Don couldn't talk fast enough. “It was wrong and stupid and we never should have done it.” His eyes remained locked in fear on Oscar's finger and the protruding U-shaped portion of his own entrails that the finger was hooked around.
“All you wanted was the money?” Oscar asked.
“We figgered if he paid us once he'd pay us twice.”
“Do you know why that deer ees so special?”
“No idear. Honest.”
Oscar gently prodded Billy Don's intestines back into the cavernous belly. He stood and faced Red. “That deer is Mr. Swank's most productive stud. He values him most greatly.” Oscar handed his knife to Crystal and said, “Cut them loose. And then all three of you…leave this property and do not come back.”
Oscar turned on his Italian heels and left the room.
John Marlin struggled long and hard with the idea of calling Nurse Becky Cameron. He asked himself, Am I really interested in this woman—I mean, really interested? Then he realized, just by asking himself that question, he already knew the answer. What's more, he had a reason to call her, a matter of official business.
After his hospital visit, Marlin had remembered something crucial: He had taken a blood sample from Buck the same night he had tranquilized him. He had wanted to check for rabies, more as a precaution than anything else. Deer seldom get rabies, but it was possible. Marlin no longer thought rabies could be the problem, but at the time, it could have explained Buck's behavior. So he would ask Becky to discreetly check the blood sample for drugs. Frankly, he was a little too embarrassed to mention the blood sample to Bobby Garza now; the deputy had given him a questionable loo
k after the powder was stolen from Marlin's cruiser. No, he'd rather wait until the sample was tested. If it came back positive, he'd have the evidence he needed to take to the DEA. Sure, they'd think he was a nut job at first, but with the sample, maybe they'd start to buy into his theory. Well, at least they'd listen without busting a gut.
As for his other reason for calling Becky…his attraction…hell, he didn't know what to do about that. Moving in on a woman your best friend was attracted to, now that was low. So he decided to just play it by ear, see where the conversation went.
He dialed her number and was just about to hang up when she answered on the seventh ring, sounding out of breath. “Oh, Officer Marlin. Sorry, I was in the bathtub,” she said. For some reason, that comment made Marlin a little nervous. He could picture small beads of water dripping off various parts of her anatomy. “But I'm really glad you called,” she said. “Did you go see Phil today?”
“I did, and it looks like he's doing great. Thanks for the message yesterday. Most nurses wouldn't bother calling….”
“I could tell how close you two are, so I thought you'd want to know. I mean, two people who've been friends since kindergarten…that's just about unheard-of. At least in a city the size of Dallas.”
“That where you're from?”
“Born and raised.”
“Nice town. I've been up there a few times. They obviously know how to grow some good-lookin’ ladies.” Somehow, Marlin managed to make that remark sound sweet instead of hokey.
“Why, thank you,” Becky replied in an exaggerated voice of a Southern belle.
Marlin said, “I was born right here in Blanco County, so I've known just about everybody all my life. I still see most of my teachers from school. A lot of my old classmates and football teammates are still around. In high school, I dated the former sheriff's daughter for three years, and now she's the dispatcher.” Now, that was a stupid thing to say, Marlin thought. Why did I bring that up?
Becky got a teasing tone in her voice. “What happened with you and her? Couldn't stand the heat from her old man?”
“Naw, we just wanted different things. When I went off to Southwest Texas State University, we decided it would be best just to end it.” Marlin felt a little funny discussing his private life with a woman he barely knew. But somehow it seemed kind of right. Like the way he felt when he talked about personal things with Phil.
“And what did she do?”
“She stayed and got married—which is what she wanted in the first place. Has three kids now, one of them already in junior high.”
“So you're one of the non-marrying types?” Becky asked. Marlin could tell she was trying hard to sound casual.
“I was then.” That should suffice, Marlin thought. Frankly, he didn't know what “type” he was now. All he knew was that he was giddy inside, just because he was talking to this woman. Hell, she was really just a girl, probably ten years younger than he was. What was there to be nervous or anxious about? He'd dated lots of women, but had never felt so self-conscious with any of them. Marlin snapped out of his thoughts, realizing that Becky had just asked him something. “Excuse me?”
“I was wondering if you were going to see him again in the next few days. I'm working tomorrow and I, uh…” She sounded a little nervous herself. “And I just thought I might stop by and say hello. If you're going to be there.”
“Actually, I've got a lot going on in the next few days. Deer season starts on Saturday and I've got a lot of things to take care of before then. Meetings with the Wildlife Commission all day tomorrow. Phil'll probably get out of the hospital before I can make it back up there.”
“That's too bad. I mean, it's great that Phil will be going home soon, I just, uh…” The pretty nurse stammered a little, and Marlin could remember phone conversations in high school that had had the same wonderful uneasiness. There is a certain rush of excitement and awkward romance that sweeps over you when you're young. Somehow, those sensations, those emotions, lessen as you grow older. Or Marlin had always thought they did, anyway, until now.
“I know what you mean. I was thinking the same thing,” Marlin said, taking her off the spot. “Listen, Becky, I was hoping we could get together sometime…” he said, wanting to arrange a meeting where they could talk about testing the blood sample.
“I'd love to. What did you have in mind?”
It happened that quick. She thought he was asking her out on a date. And he certainly wanted to, he just didn't know whether his conscience would allow it. But now it was out of his hands, so he just rolled with it. “The next few nights, I need to be on patrol. You wouldn't believe the number of hunters who go out spotlighting, hoping to get an early start on the season. So what I do, I park on a county road and wait to hear shots. It wouldn't be the most romantic date you've ever had, but I was thinking you could join me—”
“That sounds great!” she interjected. “I could bring along some sandwiches. I have an ice chest…”
“That's right, you have a very nice chest,” Marlin said, unable to resist the pun.
Becky giggled and said, “Why, Mr. Marlin, I didn't think you had noticed.”
OSCAR WAS ANTSY. He hated waiting almost as much as he hated being rushed. But right now, all he could do was wait for his men, who would arrive later that evening. They had immediately made arrangements for the next flight out, because when Oscar called, you answered.
Just before noon, to battle his restlessness, Oscar decided to go into Johnson City and pick up some food and other provisions. Everything his American host ate was so bland and tasteless. Besides, he'd need to lay in a good supply for his troops.
He left the main house and went to the smaller of two guest houses—complete with hot tub, wide-screen television, and full bar—and grabbed the keys to his rented Cadillac.
As he exited the front door and walked to his car, Oscar paused. He had the distinct feeling that he was being watched. Had he seen movement out of the corner of his eye? He couldn't be sure. There was just something….
He strutted slowly along the cobblestone walkway and out onto the crushed-gravel driveway. The small stones crunched under his feet. Then he heard something move in the nearby hedges. Oscar turned quickly, but saw only a solid wall of red-tipped photinia, lush from autumn rains.
He shook his head, sure that he was letting his imagination run away from him. Then, when he was just two steps away from the car door, Oscar heard something like the slide being pulled on an automatic handgun.
In one fluid motion, and without even thinking, Oscar pulled the .38 out of his waistband, wheeled, and shot Barney Weaver directly through the heart.
The source of the noise, the Polaroid camera in Weaver's hands, dropped and clattered on the gravel. The photo he had just taken fluttered lifelessly to the ground. He slumped to his knees, and then fell face-first onto the driveway. Weaver's last thought was: Damn, that Antonio Banderas is one mean son of a bitch.
Tim Gray was sure the stuffed animal heads on Roy Swank's den wall were coming to life. That goatlike thing—what had Swank called it, an oryx?—it was staring directly at the strungout veterinarian. Hadn't it been looking in the other direction earlier? And what about that damn red elk? Gray could almost hear the breath sucking in and out of its large nostrils. Jesus, it was hard to concentrate on Swank's babbling with all this weird shit happening. Got to concentrate, he thought. This is important stuff.
“You did great with Colby's buck last night,” Swank was blathering, “and now I need some more help from you. I wouldn't say we're in an emergency situation, but it could turn into one. So what we gotta do is remove all the merchandise as quickly as possible. And I mean pronto. We're looking at a total of thirty head…”
Gray shook his head and tried to ignore the huge white-tailed buck that was blinking its eyes and staring down at him from behind Roy Swank's massive leather chair. “Damn, that'll take more than just a few days. It's about two hours per procedure.”
> “Sixty hours…. Lessee, that's means you can finish up by midnight Friday. Perfect.”
“Are you kidding me? You want me to operate for sixty hours straight? Wouldn't it be easier just to shoot ’em all and be done with it?”
“Doc, you got any idea how much those deer are worth?” Swank smiled. He loved talking about money, specifically his money. “Five grand apiece, easy. Some of ’em, more like ten. If you think I'm taking a rifle to a quarter-million dollars’ worth of animals, you're nuttier than a squirrel's morning crap. Besides, when have you ever had any trouble staying awake?” Swank said as he reached into a desk drawer. He came out with an amber vial filled with white powder and placed it on the desk in front of Gray. “Few snorts of that, you'll not only finish by Friday, you'll want to paint my barn afterwards. And if that's not enough…” He reached into the desk again and tossed a pack of hundred-dollar bills to Gray.
Gray caught the bills and was reaching for the drugs when a shot crackled through the air.
A week ago, Roy Swank would have been puzzled, even a little concerned, about hearing a gunshot on his property outside of hunting season. But the events of the last few days had worn him down, first pushing his nerves to the limit, then numbing him to almost any development. He shook his head in dismay, more like a father hearing rap music from his son's bedroom than a man whose fortunes rested on the crazy Colombian who was almost certainly the source of the shot. “Damn. What now?” Swank said, pulling his froglike body out of his plush chair. He walked over to the eastern windows, hoping to get a glimpse of the front driveway. No, the trees were still too full of leaves. So he proceeded over to the bar and poured himself a brandy, without extending the courtesy to Gray. Then he waited. He was sure that Oscar would be joining them shortly.