Wounded Badge Vista

by Kieran York

  “Do you forgive me for taking off for the hospital without you?” She asked Terry.

  “Aren’t you going to mention you also went out to visit your Gran?”

  Royce slumped down. “Okay. For going to the hospital and out to visit Gran?”

  “Yes.” With her lips staunchly pressed, she nodded affirmatively. After a few moments, she added, “Yes. But don’t let it happen again.”

  Royce grimaced. Her deputy had just scolded her.

  Inside the office, Royce handed a pile of return calls to Terry. “If you’ll start sorting these, I’ll begin checking the Penal Systems. I really want to discuss one prisoner in particular at the Texas Federal Correctional Institution.” Royce became grim, her fist balled. “The guy we put away a couple years ago has a very special hatred and resentment against the county, and particularly me.”

  “I know who you mean,” Terry cleared her throat. “I haven’t seen any callbacks from anyone at the prison he’s in. Do you think if I spent a day down there interrogating all of those who actually supervise our nemesis, I could get some information?”

  Royce paused. “And it would get you out of my hair for a day.”

  Laughing, her throaty laugh, Terry corrected, “Hell no, Sheriff. The other deputies can tail your ever move while I’m gone.”

  Royce joined Terry in a moment of chuckles. She then leaned her elbows forward on the desk, and her hands cupped her face. With a frown, her pause was contemplating. “Sumner looks perfect for this kind of thing. He’s got money stashed. Access to gangland. When you get there, work with the warden to get all the support and assistance you can get. Have our D.A. get papers for them to record his conversations, and check his mail, time on internet, etc. Find out about his visitors. Every offender Sumner befriended. Those out, or those transferred and then out. Let’s make certain that everyone from the administrators to the guards know that this guy might be connected with the attempted homicide of an undersheriff, and a strong desire to kill a sheriff. And a homicide of a young guy. Anything they can give us. We need to find this invisible murderer. Nick is in his sites because he’s a witness, and I am still in his sites.”

  “You mean I can go to Texas?”

  “Spend this afternoon getting ready. Reservations on the redeye. Spend tomorrow interviewing everyone connected. Let’s get Sumner’s connections shut down.”

  “Great, Sheriff.” She stood, “I’m on my way. I’ll report back. Are you sure you’ll have a bodyguard that can keep up with you and keep you safe?”

  Royce looked at the wall that was filled with flyers, photos, notices of crimes and criminals. “There is no safety in our world,” Royce’s comment was tinged with heartache. “If someone wants to kill you, or kill the ones you love, that can somehow be accomplished.”

  ***

  Meanwhile, Royce worked every tab, every trail. She found information about everyone she’d sent to prison. When their jailhouse acquaintances might have been released, and where they were living. When she’d printed out a dozen more photos of potential gunmen, the sheriff decided to call Bev. She was told that Nick was still improving, and had even asked to go home.

  Bev and Royce knew that wouldn’t be anytime soon. But for the first time, they both felt that it would be a certainty.

  By late afternoon, Royce had checked in with Deputy Terry Doyle. Terry wouldn’t be getting aboard her flight to Texas until two A.M. It was the earliest flight she could book. She planned on catching a couple hours rest, then she would catch a shuttle to the prison. Royce wished her luck in finding some all-important connections between the hitman and the hitman’s employer. She told Terry that if the call she had from Mandy Connor was correct, she was certain they were on the right path. The SIG Sauer Coyote Tan was special, and could have been produced for the crime by their lead suspect. He was in prison for illegal arms dealing. He made his money as a gun runner. He could easily have provided the killer with a fancy-dancy gun.

  When Royce finally arrived at the hospital to visit Nick, she had an envelope of about two dozen photos of possible hired guns. Nick seemed to be able to focus, and he was cognizant of his surroundings. Royce stood beside his hospital bed. One at a time, she took a picture from the deck of photographs. Mugshots were often deceivingly blotchy, but there were fortunate times when they were recognizable. Some were contorted faces used by criminals to cast doubt on the identity.

  In Nick’s good hand, he held the first picture near his eyes. Examining, studying, he’d squint. “No,” he said. And as the parade of a photo lineup continued, he’d repeated ‘no’ nearly a dozen times. Then, one caught his eye. “Maybe.” Royce held that one out. She continued showing him photos. Nick held one up. “Resemblance.” Then the final photo was presented. “Could be.”

  Royce viewed the three that were recognized. She would do more investigation later. For now, there were two former inmates that were from the Dallas area. Two that could have conspired with her old nemesis, Luther Sumner. “Great work, Nick. This will help.”

  “Wish I could be helping you in the field.”

  “You’re being invaluable help right where you are. Nick, did you notice anything about the shooter’s gun?”

  As he was thinking, pulling back that memory, his eyes searched the ceiling. Suddenly, he shuddered, then his mouth moved. “I remember, it was flesh colored. Maybe it was camo. I didn’t see the gun, as a gun. I thought he was pulling out a tan-brown wallet.”

  “Nick, the witnesses also said the gun looked strange. I’m betting it was a SIG Sauer. Coyote Tan. Another bit of possible evidence to hang the guy I suspect.”

  His smile beamed with recognition. “Yes. Yes.” They traded nods. “I’m glad I lived, and maybe I’ll be okay to testify.”

  “Nick, I’m just glad you’re alive. And you’re regaining your strength.”

  “I guess I’m going to Denver for some rehab.” His voice was weak, and somewhat defeated. “My shoulder. And also getting mobility back in the places impacted by the head wound. Tell me, Royce, do you think I’ll be good enough to stay in my job?”

  “Nick, I’m not going to say it’s going to be easy. But I believe you’re going to completely recover. Two days ago, you weren’t even awake. Now, you’re picking suspects from a paper lineup.”

  “I don’t want to lose my badge.”

  “That isn’t going to happen, Nick. I’ll guard your badge and your desk with my life.” Tears formed. “When you’re ready, I’m pinning that badge back on your chest.”

  “Are you tearing up because you know I’m not going to ever be recovered enough?”

  “No, Nick. I was thinking that I was the target. I heard your phone call with the perp. He wanted me dead. He tried to take you out because I wasn’t available. I feel as though you took the bullets that were aiming for me. It should have been me shot up.”

  “Royce, I know you’ve been told that isn’t your fault. In our line of work, it’s always been the luck of the draw. Don’t cry about that. Just cry because I may never again do the Chicken Polka with a beer balanced on my head.”

  They laughed together. It was the best feeling she’d had since before Nick was shot. Nick, and his wonderful sense of humor were alive and well.

  Chapter 14

  Sam sat his lanky, thin frame on the corner of the sheriff’s desk. “Morning,” he crisply greeted.

  “You’re not upset with me for sending your cuddle bunny off to Texas?” Royce quizzed.

  His grin was enormous, his eyes sparkled. “No, not at all. Royce she was so thrilled to be going. And that made me feel just great. I’m not kidding, she was beaming. She kept saying how important it was.” His face was flushed with his excitement. He winked. “I think that woman is getting a taste of power, and she likes it. I don’t ever intend on dialing back her happiness.”

  “And do you like it?”

  “I just kept telling her how proud I am of her. And how I knew that the assignment was an act of trust on your
behalf. It is a part of the investigation that is very weighty and pressing. We’ve got to find this man before he harms you. Or kills Nick.”

  “Sam, you’re right. If anyone can come up with anything, Terry can. She is special.”

  Sam’s head turned proudly. He said, “Probably too special for me. But let’s not tell her.”

  “I was thinking she was exactly special enough for you. You’re proud of her.”

  “I am enormously proud of her.” He paused, “And she made me promise to make certain you take a deputy with you when you head out.”

  Royce shrugged. “If one is available. And if I have a call to go on. Sam, you know there is absolutely nothing that prevents someone from shooting me. If the intention is there, chances are they will pull it off. Right now, I’m concerned with Nick’s health, and capturing the two mystery killers of Kirk.”

  “It concerns me that they are like ghosts that leave no tracks. Royce, in both Crystal and Timber, we know, or know about the people here. Most of them. The original group of suspects were those we knew. Like most cases, if you know them, you can trip them up.”

  “Exactly. Thankfully, a lot of enforcers have that ability to sniff out the truth. That sixth sense. Most of our deputies have it. I’m not sure if we have it from the get-go, or if we learn it from experience, but we do usually have that little queasiness about when we’re being lied to, or when a person is shady.” Royce’s voice rushed with frustration. “On this case, with the crew of potential people we might have suspected, it wasn’t there. I interviewed those that may have disliked Nick, but even the candidates most likely, Bart Newton and Claude Myers aka Lee Claude Mayers, just didn’t trigger a positive on my suspicion.”

  “I do think Bart Newton is a danger. Just not to Nick.” Sam shook his head. “And Claude seems to have had his issues with the law. But deep down he realizes, he’s no longer up to scrambling with the long arm of the law.”

  “After putting the first level suspect through the hopper, I didn’t see them guilty. I realized how much more difficult it is to capture the unknown. Particularly when both of the perps are very skilled, and schooled, in crime.” Royce ran her fingers through her hair. “I certainly feel the time pinch on this crime.”

  Sam rubbed his chin briskly. “However, I think the woman is more likely to slip up. She already has. We have a better chance of apprehending her.”

  “She gave us what little we have. Photos, fingerprints, and DNA. And for some reason, even that isn’t enough to identify her.”

  Sam crossed his arms, then stood. “Unless her assumed identity fails her. I keep thinking if we have her DNA, and prints, we’ll eventually get a hit.”

  “We already know that they guy is a cold-blooded killer. I’m pretty sure he’s going to make a bundle. If I’m right about the man behind this, the killer could make a fortune. That makes him a very motivated hitman. But his killing rampage is more like a challenge. He took the time to set up a bizarre scenario. And there was nothing to gain by killing an innocent young man. Other than covering his tracks. He didn’t want to leave anyone alive to identify him. That makes it more important than ever to protect Nick.”

  “Royce, he could have followed Nick and/or you and had ample opportunities to shoot either or both of you. But that concocted showboating up at Wounded Badge, the pretense of a ride-along, and the ambush style, it’s sort of a wacky criminal theatre.”

  “Let’s try to shut down his show.”

  As Sam walked away, Royce began thumbing through the stack of calls.

  ***

  Royce felt safe at her desk, yet asked herself what safe even meant now. The Sheriff’s Department buzzed with calls, and the milling of people making out reports, as well as explaining where they believed they’d located the killer.

  Closing her office door, Royce began processing the information that Terry was having sent to her. Files from each of the prisoners she was interviewing flooded Royce’s computer. For each prisoner, there were follow-up files with comments from the officials, guards, and other penitentiary workers. Every correctional facility has its own regulations and guidelines.

  The field of penology provided an availability of academic education and vocational training classes. Mental health, including treatment of psychiatric therapy, and general health was also included. The inmate had contact with many providers that might have had an important slant to that criminal’s activities.

  Terry was sniffing out every single lead she could gather. Importantly, yet not surprising, Inmate Luther Sumner was meeting with his defense attorney every other week. Interestingly, it was pertaining not only for a bid to have his sentence overturned, but also the attorney was handling Sumner’s finances. Or what he claimed were monies left from a vast fortune that Sumner obtained through crime, and he had paid to keep himself off death row.

  Via telephone, Terry explained, “Sumner bragged to other inmates, and guards, that he was worth a couple million. I talked with Mike Parker this morning about getting a search warrant for bank records.”

  “We can try, but I’m guessing cash has been, and maybe will be, paid out for the hit jobs. And his Sumner’s attorney, Mel Delton, has got to be as twisted as his client.” Royce made some notations. “If we can just get Bonnie or Clyde arrested, we’ll probably have subpoenas raining down on everyone connected with this thing.”

  “Did any of the photo lineups register with Nick?” Terry asked.

  “A couple from the Texas area did,” Royce reported.

  “I’m shooting you a photo of a guy that’s a habitual criminal, and he was transferred up to Colorado a few months ago. Mentioning Sumner’s attorney, I recalled that one of the prison guards told me that Sumner’s attorney must be a hotshot. He got this,” Terry read slowly, “Eisner, E-I-S-N-E-R. Got him shipped out to Colorado, and then sprung on a technicality.”

  Royce looked at the photo that was transmitted. She got chills. “He looks something like one of the mugshots we’ve got. One that Nick selected. I’ll try to check out the information the local prison might have on him.” Royce tapped her keyboard. “Buckley Eisner.”

  “That’s him. It’s Buckley Eisner. His sheet includes abduction, assault, and murder.”

  “And he’s out on a technicality.” Royce’s voice was one of disgust. “Damn.”

  “Yep. Okay, I’ll see what I can follow up with on this. Royce, please be careful.”

  “I’m being careful.” She teased, “I’ve got Wanda at the front desk, and she like a rogue terminator.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Me, too. Look, get what you can, and then grab the next air coach home. You’ve got the sweetest man in the world awaiting your arrival. And Terry, he is so proud of you.”

  Terry chuckled, “Royce, I asked him earlier if we could do a prenup.”

  “A prenup?” Royce chided, “About who gets to polish your badges?”

  “No, but that’s a good idea. I want it in black and white. A promise that our children all have his disposition. That’s the prenup.”

  “Good work, Deputy. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  ***

  Royce got the information that Terry sent about Buckley Eisner. Eisner had skated on a murder charge. Six-foot-three, two-hundred pounds and he was a prison body builder. His nickname was Buck. And if this was the guy, Royce could immediately issue a BOLO. If not recognized, he would still be on the enforcer’s screen.

  On the trip to Crystal General Hospital, Royce considered what a huge break this could be. Although they might know who he is, and be able to publicize his photo to assist in the manhunt, he would still be able to elude them by using fictitious IDs, and changing his appearance. Certainly, there would be no hiding his large, toned body. However, there were many of those around Crystal. He would still be a hidden felon mixed in with Crystal’s well-known athletes.

  The fugitives had taken Kirk Dillard’s ID, and had used it. Then when Kirk’s photo was issued to the public
, they would have needed to have stolen another ID or two. Royce felt as though she might be losing this cat and mouse game. If it were Eisner, he could be frightened off if she put up a BOLO. He and beauty queen could go to another state. One that had never heard of Timber County, Colorado.

  When Royce arrived at Nick’s hospital room, she greeted him. “I’ve brought you another several mugshots to entertain you with. This time I got front and side shots. Compliments of Terry’s Texas tour.”

  Nick’s torso was elevated slightly, making him look more comfortable. And he looked as though he was feeling better.

  Royce handed each of the photos to Nick. He began scanning them. With a laugh, he said, “They’re all just lovely.” Then his stare hooked on one. He held it out. When he got to the final photo, he looked back at the one he’d removed. “Royce, this looks like the guy. What are his stats?”

  “Six-three and two hundred pounds. Bodybuilder. Well-exercised, and tough.”

  Nick continued holding up the photo, moving it from side to side. “I saw his face as he pulled up beside me. Immediately he lifted his gun and fired the first round. Then he opened the door and started to step out. I could tell he was a huge block of a man.” Nick struggled. “The guy heard sounds. He rapid fired a second round, and then pulled himself back into the truck’s cab.” Nick looked up at the ceiling. “I was struggling to remain conscious. Royce, I always thought it would be terrible to bleed out. All I could see was Bev and the kids. Their images.”

  Nick’s tears forced Royce to think of how fragile the last moments of life must be. “That’s understandable. Nick, if you remember anything more that might identify him, let us know. You’re doing a stellar witness job. For now, rest.”

  “Royce, if you ever wondered about your dad’s final thoughts. He was thinking of you and Molly. His daughter and his wife.”

  “Thanks, Nick.” She was glad that he told her that. But then, she knew her father would have been thinking about his family when his blood drained away.