“Mister? Are you okay?”
Matt roused himself from the fog that enveloped him. He was in a car, his head resting on the steering wheel. His left arm and shoulder were throbbing with pain. And a terrible noise issued from the rear of the car.
The boy leaning in the driver’s side window looked to be about eighteen. His streaked blond hair was two weeks overdue for cutting. His faded yellow T-shirt bore the words “Alvord Bulldogs” in faint black script. Matt turned his head to look through the car windshield and saw he was parked in front of some sort of convenience store. Although the events of the night were coming back to him, he couldn’t recall pulling in here.
“Are you okay?” the boy asked. “I’m the only one here tonight, but I can call for help. It looks like you’re hurt.” He paused as the banging from the car’s trunk increased. “And we need to get whoever’s in the trunk out.”
“No!” Matt said. “Yes, call the police. I need help. But don’t let that man out of the trunk. He tried to . . .” And then darkness closed over him.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“You’re mighty lucky to get away like you did,” the deputy said.
Matt had to agree. The little town of Alvord had no police department, so the boy had called the Wise County Sheriff. The responding deputy removed Lester from the car trunk and took him into custody. An ambulance took Matt to the nearest hospital. Now he was in an open jail cell in Decatur, the county seat, his left arm in a sling and a heavy bandage covering his shoulder on that side, talking with a deputy and trying to figure out what came next.
“After you told me your story,” the deputy said, “I called the Dallas police department, since that’s where all this started. I told them that the guy in the trunk had kidnapped you, apparently wanted to kill you. They said they’d send a couple of officers to get him—give you a lift back too. Should be here in about an hour.”
Matt read the nameplate on the deputy’s uniform. “Look, Deputy Combes, if one of those policemen is a detective named Grimes, I don’t want anything to do with him. He’s out to get me. I’m not sure who I’m more afraid of, Grimes or this guy.” He gestured to the next cell, where Lester lay stretched out on his cot.
Lester frowned at Matt through the bars, but said nothing.
“Suit yourself,” Combes said. “But you’re going to have to give the police a statement sometime. They’re coming here to get that guy. If you want to ride back with them, you don’t have to say anything all the way to Dallas. And your attorney can meet you at the station there.”
Matt thought about that. Surprisingly enough, his watch was still running, and it showed the time to be about four in the morning. He could call Sandra. She’d probably come to get him, but what Combes said made sense. He didn’t have to answer any of Grimes’s questions. He’d call Sandra from police headquarters and refuse to say anything until she was present.
“I guess that would be okay.” He lay back on the cot. “I think I’m going to rest until they get here.”
A hand shaking his good shoulder roused Matt from a troubled sleep. “Newman, wake up. We need to talk.”
Matt opened his eyes and saw the dark, scowling face of Detective Virgil Grimes. He started to push himself upright, but stopped when little men with hammers started beating on the muscles of his left shoulder. He dropped back onto the bunk. “I have nothing to say until I see my lawyer.”
Grimes’s grin had no mirth in it. “Somehow I thought you’d say that. Do you want to ride with us back to the police station in Dallas? You can call your lawyer from there.”
Matt had decided it was probably his best option. He agreed, and in a few minutes was following Grimes and Lester, his hands cuffed in front of him, shackles on his legs, out of the little jail toward a dirty, black Crown Victoria. Grimes shoved Lester into the backseat, buckled the seat belt around him, and slammed the door.
He turned to Matt. “You ride up here with me.”
Matt stopped with the passenger door half-open. “I thought they were sending two policemen. Why a detective? Why you? And since you’re here, where’s Detective Ames?”
“Guess there were no officers free to send. I was up for the next detective call, so here I am. As for Ames, I don’t know.” Grimes shrugged. “I called her, but she didn’t answer. But don’t worry. I can handle this guy.” He jerked his head toward the backseat, then patted the bulge under the left arm of his wrinkled suit coat.
Matt wasn’t sure what to do. He hated to get into the car with these two men, one who’d just tried to kill him, another who seemed determined to put him behind bars or on the path to death row.
“Get in. I’m not going to ask you any questions,” Grimes said. “And if you wait here for a ride, you’ll be half a day getting home. We’ll finish our business at the station in forty-five minutes or less. Then you can rest.”
Matt still had misgivings, but he climbed in. Grimes had the car moving before Matt could get his seat belt fastened. When they turned onto the highway, Matt saw a sign that told him Dallas was sixty-five miles away. There was still at least an hour before sunup, maybe more, so he leaned back and closed his eyes.
He awoke as the car slowed and Grimes steered it to the right. Matt looked around him. This was a rest area, but a very basic one, with only a tiny restroom building fronted by a water fountain. The area was dimly lit. There were no other cars or trucks in view. Grimes pulled to the back side of the complex and guided the car over grass into a stand of trees that almost hid it from any passersby.
He stopped the car, killed the motor, and turned to face Matt. “Here’s how it’s going to go down.” He hooked a thumb at Lester, who was yawning in the backseat. “He’s going to be shot while attempting to escape.”
“Man, I’m going back to Dallas. My lawyer will have me out on bail in no time. I’m not going to try to escape.”
“Oh, but you are. And you’re going to use this.” Grimes pulled a small pistol from his coat pocket and tossed it over the backseat to Lester. “It’s a Beretta Tomcat. It’s small, and the sheriff must have missed it when he searched you.”
Lester didn’t take long to process the information. He pointed the gun at Grimes’s head and pulled the trigger. Matt ducked, but all he heard was a sharp click.
“Oh, sorry. It’s not loaded. I’ll add some bullets after you’re dead, before I drop the pistol by your hand.”
“That’s murder,” Matt said. “Why would you do that?”
“Simple. The idea behind this whole thing is to kill you. But I can’t leave a witness behind, can I? This guy will try to escape, and you’ll help him. You’ll both get shot. I’ll probably get a commendation. And you’ll go down as an accessory.”
Matt was stunned. “Why? Since the time you came into my ICU room, you’ve acted like it was your purpose in life to get me. Why?”
“Let’s just say I have my orders.”
“Wait a minute,” Lester said. “We may be getting our orders from the same guy. You can go ahead and take care of him, and I’ll tell any story you want. We’re probably both working for the big man.”
“You know, under other circumstances I’d probably be interested in knowing more about this big man, but I’ve got just one job to do, and sitting here talking isn’t getting it done.” Grimes pushed a button to unlock the car doors. “This is your chance. Open the doors and start running. I’m going to give you a head start.” He pulled a mean-looking semi-automatic from his shoulder holster. “I’ll count to three. Then I open fire.”
“Wait!” Matt said.
Grimes got out and walked around the car to open Lester’s door. “Almost forgot that door doesn’t open from the inside. Have to let you out so you can try to escape.” He pointed with his gun toward the woods. Grimes looked first at Matt, then at Lester. “Better run. I’m going to start counting.”
Matt gathered his feet under him, pushed open the door with his good hand, and sprinted toward the nearest trees. He heard Lester�
�s footsteps right behind him, his strides shortened by his shackles, his legs churning to cover ground. Matt hunched his shoulders in the automatic reflex of people who expect to feel a bullet in the back any second. Beside him, Lester began dodging right and left, his harsh breathing and clanking chains an accompaniment to the thump-thump of his strides.
“One.” Grimes’s voice was clear on the early morning air. “Two.”
“Hold it right there.” A pair of headlights blinded Matt. He recognized the voice of Detective Merrilee Ames, whose Southern lilt had given way to no-nonsense tones. “Drop the weapon, Grimes. You don’t have a chance.”
Another pair of headlights blazed from the other direction, accompanied by a harsh baritone. “State Troopers. Hands behind your head. You’re covered.”
Matt flung himself to the ground. When there was no gunfire, he risked a glance around. Two Dallas police officers dragged Lester to his feet and shoved him back the way he’d come. Two men in the distinctive pewter-colored uniforms and western-style hats of the Texas Department of Public Safety, the State Troopers, were handcuffing Grimes.
Ames’s voice carried to Matt, and it was music to his ears. “Virgil Grimes, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
Matt sighed and lowered his face to the dew-laden grass. Maybe his ordeal was over at last.
“Thanks, guys. I’ll talk with your supervisor later today.” Ames waved to the two State Troopers, who touched the brims of their hats and drove away. Five minutes later, the two-car convoy was moving through the predawn light toward Dallas. The two Dallas policemen, with Grimes and Lester handcuffed in the back, led the way. Ames and Matt followed in the car Grimes had driven.
Matt felt the letdown as his adrenaline overload dissipated. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. In a moment, his curiosity overcame the need for sleep. He opened his eyes and turned to Ames. “How come Grimes was the one who came for me?”
“Probably left word with the police dispatcher to call his cell if anything came in about you. That’s what I would have done.” She shrugged. “It’s a reasonable request. After all, you were still a ‘person of interest.’”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t understand any of this. Don’t get me wrong. I appreciate your saving my life. But . . .”
Ames took her eyes off the road long enough to glance toward Matt. “But you’d like to know what’s going on.”
“That would be nice.”
“I was assigned to partner with Grimes to keep an eye on him. The brass heard whispers that Grimes had run up some gambling debts. Soon he was taking bribes and extorting money to keep the collectors at bay. It wasn’t long before we found out someone had actually paid off his debts, but now they owned him—and they intended to manipulate him for their own end.”
“Do you know who? And what they wanted?”
“We think we know. Once we get Grimes in an interview room, I’m pretty sure we can get the information. He’s not going to take this fall himself when he can give up the person behind it. Policemen like to play ‘let’s make a deal’ just as well as criminals do.”
“What about Lester?”
“Unless I miss my guess, that’s Lester Hardaway—a hired gun and a good one. We don’t know the person who was running him, but we’ll find out. If he’s got any useful information, he’ll try to bargain his way out of the charges.”
“Think they’re serious enough to make him talk?”
“Kidnapping and attempted murder? He’d sell his grandmother to cut a deal.”
Matt rubbed the places on his knees he’d skinned when he hit the ground. “In the car he talked about the big man. Does that name mean anything?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“How did you know to follow Grimes tonight? And why weren’t you with him in the first place?”
“I wasn’t with him because he didn’t call me. We got lucky, though. The deputy back in Wise County called the wrong number. Instead of the police dispatcher, he dialed the Detective Bureau, and my sergeant answered. He recognized your name and called Grimes at home, but he also alerted me about what was going down. I figured Grimes might use the chance to get rid of you. So I got a couple of policemen and an unmarked car and took off.”
“Did you follow him?”
“Actually we’ve had a GPS and a hidden microphone in his car from the time this whole investigation started.”
“Why did you bring in the State Troopers?” Matt asked.
“Jurisdiction. I didn’t know where Grimes would make his move. He’d be driving through two or three counties, and I couldn’t coordinate with that many sheriffs. So I arranged for a car with a couple of DPS troopers to meet us near the jail where Grimes planned to pick you up.”
“So you were back there all the time.”
“We followed you from the time you left the jail. I could hear every word said in that car—and we were recording it too.”
“So you’ve got him for attempted murder.”
“For that, for kidnapping, for extortion and taking bribes. The DA’s going to have a long list to choose from.”
“Thanks doesn’t seem enough,” Matt said. “You saved my life.”
“It’s my job,” Ames said. “Besides, you saved my brother’s life, so I guess we’re even.”
Matt frowned, trying to recall a patient named Ames. “I don’t understand.”
“My married name is Ames,” she said. “My maiden name is Penland. Roland Penland is my brother.”
Matt would have given anything for an old-fashioned back-scratcher. The colleague who examined him in the emergency room had confirmed that the injury to his left shoulder was only a flesh wound. The doctor redressed the wound, replacing the bulky pressure dressing with a lighter bandage, and told Matt he could stop using the sling. The pain wasn’t so bad now, but the itching under the dressing was about to drive him crazy.
It hadn’t been easy to complete the knot in his tie with one arm functioning poorly, but Matt managed. He wanted to look his best for this appointment. Now, dressed in his best suit, Matt sat with Sandra outside the office of the Dallas County District Attorney. Matt looked forward to getting back to work tomorrow. Today, however, he had an appointment to keep.
“The district attorney will see you now,” the secretary said. She ushered them into a corner office where a man sat behind a moderate-sized, very cluttered desk. File folders and law books had been pushed aside to make a central work space, which at the present time held two thin manila folders. Certificates, awards, and photos of famous people, most of them shaking hands with Matt’s host, were displayed on two of the office walls. The other walls bore shelves filled with books.
The man behind the desk looked to be in his early sixties. He wore a striped dress shirt and conservative tie. A suit coat hung on the back of his office door. Reading glasses rode on the tip of his nose, partially hiding sad gray eyes. His silver hair was full and combed straight back. Matt thought he looked as though he bore burdens no one else could see.
The man rose and extended his hand to Matt. “A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Newman,” he said. “I’m Jack Tanner.”
Tanner turned to Sandra and smiled as they exchanged handshakes. “Ms. Murray, you’re more lovely every time I see you. Are you sure I can’t coax you away from private practice to work here? I can offer you less money and a cramped office.”
“Jack, I appreciate the offer, but I guess I’d better stick to defending the innocent.”
Tanner motioned them to chairs and turned toward the man standing beside him. His appearance and bearing said “lawyer” long before Tanner introduced him. “This is Charlie Greaver, my second in command, so to speak. Charlie’s in line to succeed me when I retire, if the voters of Dallas County agree. I hope you don’t mind if he sits in.”
Greaver wore a beautifully tailored tan suit that contrasted with his chocolate-colored skin. A gleaming white shirt and striped brown, gold, and
red tie completed the ensemble. Matt couldn’t see his feet, but he’d bet the assistant DA was wearing well-shined brown wingtips.
Greaver nodded at everyone and took a chair at the side of Tanner’s desk.
There was a light tap at the door, which opened to admit Detective Ames. She strode to a spot in front of the desk, gave Greaver a nod, and addressed Tanner. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Please, have a seat.”
Ames smiled at Matt and Sandra and took the chair to their right.
Tanner opened the two folders on his desk, glanced at them briefly, then closed them. “Detective, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell Dr. Newman and Ms. Murray what you’ve discovered since the arrest of Detective Grimes and the man who tried to kidnap the doctor.”
“Certainly.” Ames half-turned toward Matt and Sandra. “I’m presuming, Ms. Murray, that your client shared the gist of the conversation we had in the car as we returned to Dallas.”
Sandra nodded.
“We subsequently interrogated both Lester—whose full name is Lester Hardaway—and Detective Grimes. I’ll start with Hardaway. He was hired by someone generally called ‘the big man.’ His real name is Bernardo Ignacio Grande. Grande’s a disbarred lawyer, working from an office in Oak Cliff where he provides documentation, green cards, insurance papers, drivers’ licenses, and just about anything else you could wish for illegals living here in the region. He has quite a nice operation, and it’s expanding rapidly.”
She paused, apparently awaiting questions. When there were none, she went on. “Grande had a working arrangement with two people at Metropolitan Hospital: Dr. Hector Rivera and Cara Mendiola. He started with Dr. Rivera. Rivera was an illegal alien for whom Grande provided forged papers allowing him to practice medicine in the US. Soon he persuaded Rivera to work for him, gathering information—birthdays, Social Security numbers, anything he could get—about patients as they came through the ER, especially those who died there. Dead persons make excellent shadow identities for false papers.
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