Backwater

by Carolina Mac

  “Check the gas,” said Blaine. “They’re stupid. Probably ran out of gas. The assholes.”

  Farrell turned the key and had a quick look. “Yeah, it’s on empty.” He rounded the Jeep to look for footprints. “How far can they get on foot?”

  “Wish we had the dogs,” said Blaine.

  Farrell did a three sixty and said, “Houses over there. Too many people. Only one way for them to go and that’s to the bush over there on the other side of this pasture field.”

  “We’ve got to run through this herd of steers,” said Blaine, glancing lovingly at his Harley boots. “Watch out for shit.”

  Farrell climbed over the fence. “Yeah, I’m watching.”

  Pleasanton.

  JESSE, CARLOS and Jamie finished up the statements at the rest area. The shooter had no ID on him, but with a bit of luck, the asshole’s prints would show up in the system and maybe they could link him to Royce with something other than illegal surveillance. Jesse spoke to the local medical examiner and arranged for the shooter’s body to be sent to Austin.

  “Ready to go?” asked Jamie. “Do you want me to drive, Jesse? You look wiped?”

  “Sure.” He was tired and didn’t argue. That was one thing he’d overcome—thinking he was infallible. He wasn’t. He appreciated how much Jamie cared about him and let her take over. He hopped in the shotgun seat of the Range Rover and took a couple of calming breaths.

  Jamie took the wheel and Carlos slid into the back seat.

  “The best witness would be the shot woman’s husband,” said Carlos, “but he followed the ambulance to San Antone.”

  “We’ll stop into the hospital and see how the woman is. Blacky will want to know, and if she’s up to it, we can ask a couple questions,” said Jesse. “Good thought, Carlos.”

  Route 59 past Freer.

  BLAINE AND FARRELL ran across the pasture field, dodging hillocks, rocks, the odd cactus and dozens of piles of steaming cow shit.

  “See anything?” asked Blaine. Nothing but trees ahead of them.

  “Nope, and that bush looks thick and huge. Maybe ten acres or more.”

  “Wonder if Whitey has a gun?” Blaine barely spit out the words when a shot was fired behind them and he propelled forward into one of the piles they were avoiding.

  “Shit,” hollered Farrell. He spun around and ran back towards the road, as fast as he could go through the rough terrain firing his SW.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  The guy dropped on the other side of the fence and Farrell wasn’t sure he was dead. He could see the asshole wasn’t moving, but his body had rolled into the ditch and the grass was high. Farrell cursed as he climbed the fence, SW in his hand and keeping an eye on the guy in case he was faking. Once he was close enough he could see—half the asshole’s head was missing—yeah, deader than dead.

  Farrell called for help, climbed the fence again and ran back for his brother.

  Out of breath when he got back to the spot where Blacky had fallen, Farrell rolled him over to see if he was conscious. Nope. He was out. Just as well. Blacky would be madder than hell on a Sunday if he knew he was covered in shit. Farrell sucked in a couple of breaths, picked his brother up off the ground and threw him over his shoulder.

  He was almost back to the fence when first response arrived. Farrell hollered to the paramedics who were staring down at the corpse in the ditch. “Get a stretcher for my brother. He’s bleeding bad.” Farrell stopped at the fence, waited until the two guys with nice clean uniforms were ready and then he handed Blacky over, barely an inch of him that wasn’t covered in blood and cow shit.

  One of the medics—the one with Fraser on his name tag—made a face and said, “He’s a mess.”

  “I know he stinks,” Farrell hollered in their faces, “He’s also hurt bad.” Farrell was on the edge. “So… disregard the shit and help him as fast as you can fuckin manage it.”

  The two guys took Blacky, shifted into high gear and did their thing. Only a couple minutes passed before they had him in the back of the ambulance. They pulled onto the highway, sirens blaring.

  Two squads arrived next and Farrell briefed them on the fugitives and sent three of the four into the woods to search for Whitey and Big Dave. With that done he made the call he didn’t want to make. “Mom, it’s me.”

  “Farrell, what’s the matter?”

  “One of Royce’s shooters just shot Blacky. He’s on his way to a hospital in Laredo.”

  “Are you way down there?”

  “Yeah, manhunt.”

  “Umm… I don’t know if I can leave right now.”

  “He’ll be in surgery and dopey until tomorrow. Do the job tonight.”

  “I’ll get it done today or tonight, no matter what. I love you, baby.”

  “Love you, Annie. No words.” He ended that call and next was Lily.

  “Farrell, you haven’t been checking in.” Lil was pissed. “Did you get Whitey and Dave Warren?”

  “Almost.”

  “What happened?”

  “Complications. Royce sent two shooters for Blacky. The second one took him down.”

  Lil screamed into the phone and nearly fuckin deafened him. She never lost it. Just this one time.

  “Lil, listen to me,” hollered Farrell.

  “I’m listening.”

  “Bring Misty to Laredo. Pack a bag, it might be a couple days.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Couldn’t tell.”

  “What do you mean you couldn’t tell?”

  Farrell didn’t answer.

  “Oh, Jeeze, Farrell. What hospital?”

  “Don’t know. I’m not there yet. I’ll call you back.”

  “I’ll get Misty ready. Does your mother know?”

  “Yes.”

  San Antonio.

  AT THE HOSPITAL in San Antonio, Jesse found Mrs. Webster’s room. She was sleeping, heavily medicated after her surgery and her husband was holding vigil at her bedside.

  “Mr. Webster, I’m Ranger Jesse Quantrall, could I speak to you in the corridor for a couple of minutes?”

  “I don’t like to leave my wife alone.” He said as he followed Jesse out the door.

  “I understand. Just a couple of questions and you can sit with her again.” Jesse nodded at Jamie to take notes. “Think back to the rest area and tell me what you saw when you came out of the washroom building with your wife.”

  “Umm…I got a bottle of water and two Hershey bars from the row of vending machines while I waited for Helen. She came out of the women’s and we started walking together to the car. The boy with the long black hair was a few steps in front of us.”

  “Ranger Blackmore,” said Jesse.

  Mr. Webster raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know that was him at the time. It was him the gunman was shooting at, right?”

  Jesse nodded. “Yes.”

  “Okay,” said Mr. Webster, and Jesse could tell the man was trying to think. “Everything happened fast after that, but I’ll tell you as clear as I can remember.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “The boy, Ranger Blackmore, dove onto the grass and rolled before I even heard the shot. I didn’t know what was happening. Helen fell down beside me, and I thought she tripped. As I bent down to help her, I saw a man running. He was behind the big rigs in the next parking lot over from where we were, and I just saw a flash of him between two of the trucks. I don’t know where he went after that because I saw Helen was bleeding and I lost it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Webster. You’ve been very helpful. I hope your wife makes a full recovery.”

  In the hospital parking lot, Jesse opened the door of the Range Rover and his cell rang.

  “It’s Farrell, boss. Got bad news.”

  Austin.

  ANNIE ended the call to Farrell and she was furious. “That fucker just shot my son,” she hollered, and Travis woke up from his doze.

  “What? Blacky got shot?” Travis stood
up and followed Annie inside the penthouse.

  “I’m going over there.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Like you can stop me?” Annie ran into the bedroom to change. She came out moments later wearing a turquoise dress and matching boots.

  “Bring some of those canisters that make a noise and start the fires. We’re going to bring some excitement into the senator’s life.”

  Travis put on a jacket that would make him sweat for sure the minute he stepped outside, loaded up the pockets with things he might need, and grabbed his Sig out of the harness on the counter. He shoved the gun into his waistband and hurried to catch up to Annie.

  “Ready?” Annie picked up her purse and ran to the elevator with Travis hot on her heels.

  In the elevator, Travis tried to reason with her. “This isn’t the way to do it, Annie-girl. No plan is no good. Never ever. You have your approved methods and then you have reckless shit, and that’s the mode you are in right this moment. You are about to do some reckless shit.”

  Annie smiled. “The R.S. mode. I like it.”

  “This ain’t a joke, Annie. Not funny if we get caught.”

  “The man has to be stopped,” said Annie. “I was told to use my own discretion.”

  “This ain’t it.”

  Annie giggled as they crossed the lobby and headed across the street.

  Laredo.

  FARRELL sat in the waiting room at the Acute Care Hospital waiting for a word, any word on his brother’s condition. It seemed like hours Blaine had been in surgery. He checked the time on his cell for the hundredth time and it rang in his hand and scared the crap out of him.

  “Hey, Chief. Jesse call you?”

  “He did, son. Any word?”

  “Nothing. I’ll call you. I’m just sitting here waiting.”

  “Does Catherine know?”

  “Not unless Jesse told her. I didn’t think to call her.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  Austin.

  GOVERNOR CATHERINE CAMPBELL sat in her office with Special Agent Gene Wyman working on his laptop in the seating area near the window. It was driving her around the bend having people watching her the whole day long while she tried to work. As soon as Blaine brought Royce down her work day might possibly return to normal. The Senate would reconvene, and she’d have a new Lieutenant Governor to help her with the monumental work load. It couldn’t be soon enough.

  Her cell rang, and she checked the screen. “Chief Calhoun, good afternoon.”

  “Not so good, Catherine. Blaine has been wounded down near Laredo and he’s been taken to hospital.”

  Catherine felt a scream welling up inside her and she tried to suppress it. “Which hospital?”

  “Acute Care in Laredo,” said the Chief. “Farrell is there, and Blaine is in surgery. That’s all I know.”

  “Thank you, Chief. I’m cleaning up here and packing a bag. I’ll have to stay overnight.”

  “Don’t go alone.”

  “Gene is here. He’ll go with me.”

  “Call me when you know something,” said the Chief.

  “Absolutely.”

  Gene was standing beside her desk when she finished the call. “Where are we going, Governor?”

  “Home first to pack a bag, then we’re going to Laredo. Blaine has been shot.”

  Gene sucked in a breath. “Any details?”

  “None.”

  “We should go.”

  FOLLOWING the loose R.S. plan they’d hatched on the way across the street, Travis entered Royce’s building five minutes after Annie-girl. When he walked through the glass entrance doors, she was flirting with the concierge and had him so mesmerized, he didn’t even glance up to see who was coming into his precious lobby.

  Travis took a lefty down the main corridor off the lobby, spotted the men’s room, went inside and locked the door behind him. He unrolled reams of paper towels and toilet paper and started a fire in the waste container. Once that was blazing real good, he strode to the emergency stairwell at the end of the hall and tossed in a flash bang.

  Running back towards the lobby, he smashed the glass on the fire alarm with the butt of his Sig. He picked up speed and sprinted into the lobby hollering, “There’s a fire in the men’s room.”

  The concierge panicked as predicted, followed protocol and called for the building to be evacuated.

  Sirens sounded outside five minutes later as the fire department arrived, and residents were already pouring out of the elevators.

  A short walk from the main entrance lobby was the elevator lobby. Annie took up a position close to a huge potted palm and from her vantage point she could see everybody who exited the elevators. The smell of smoke from the men’s room was a convincing motivator to get the hell out of dodge.

  Senator Royce was one of the last to come down to the main floor. Annie fell into step beside him and stayed close as he walked along behind a group of other residents. They passed through the lobby and exited through the front doors.

  With a couple hundred people milling about on the sidewalk nobody was paying much attention to anyone else. A lot of grumbling and complaining about having to leave their marvelous condos was the topic of conversation. Most of them didn’t believe it was a real fire.

  Royce had other things on his mind and stepped around a corner of the building to make a private phone call. He was slightly concealed by a copse of bushes and his position was ideally suited to Annie’s purposes.

  “Answer me, you stupid son of a bitch,” he said into his phone and those were the last words the senator spoke.

  Annie placed the suppressor against Royce’s temple and pulled the trigger. “That was for Blaine,” she whispered. The senator slumped into the bushes and Annie stuffed her gun back in her purse.

  She walked casually along the sidewalk and joined Travis at the corner. He took her hand and they crossed at the light, returning to their own penthouse to pack up. The job was done.

  Once they were upstairs she texted. “Done.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  LUKE and Fletcher heard the fire alarm go off. “Something is happening in the senator’s building,” said Luke. “Fire drill or some such.”

  “Yeah, they probably have them every month to keep the old fogies on their toes.”

  “More than old people live there,” said Luke. “A lot of professional people like condo living.”

  “How do you know?” asked Fletch, casting Luke a skeptical glance.

  “I know things,” Luke spoke in that slow Louisiana drawl. “I’m from West Monroe, not the moon.”

  “Would you live in a high rise condo?”

  “No. I like it at the ranch.”

  “There you go.”

  A tap on the back door of the camper and it was Travis.

  “Hey, Travis, your special assignment over?”

  “Yep, all done. You guys are done surveillance too.”

  “We’re done?” asked Fletcher, sounding like he could hardly believe it.

  “Go on home and I’m not sure what’s happening for tomorrow,” said Travis. “Blacky got shot today and he’s in a hospital in Laredo. I’ll have to call you guys after I talk to Jesse.”

  “How bad is he hurt?” asked Luke.

  “Was it the second shooter?” asked Fletcher.

  “No details, but it’s not good. Annie is leaving shortly, and we’ll know more soon.”

  Giddings.

  TYLER was in his office in the barn finishing up paperwork and getting a couple of Appaloosas ready for customers. He and Paul had shows coming up and they were swamped with work. Annie’s picture showed on his cell and he smiled. “Hey, baby, up for another night of dancing?”

  “Umm… something else. Blaine was shot, and I have to go to Laredo. I’m leaving as soon as I pack a bag. Can you come with me?”

  “Damn right I’m coming. I’ll be at your ranch in twenty minutes.”

>   “Thanks, baby. I need you.”

  Paul took one look at Tyler’s face. “What’s happening?”

  “Somebody shot Blacky. I’m going with Annie to Laredo.”

  “Go,” said Paul. “Call as soon as you know anything.”

  Tyler parked his truck at Coulter-Ross, locked it up and ran to the porch where Annie was waiting for him. He held her close and kissed her tears away. “It’ll be okay. I love you, Annie.”

  She tossed him the keys and pointed. “Take this one.”

  Tyler slid behind the wheel of Annie’s Ram. Her favorite old truck that she wouldn’t give up. Viper engine and always tuned up, it was a fast ride. Not as fast as the Maserati, but fast. She tossed a small bag into the back and hopped into the shotgun seat.

  Tyler drove across the I-10 at a steady ten miles over the limit heading for the interchange for I-35 south, while Annie sat in the passenger seat crying over Blaine. “Royce did this. I should have done my job faster and it never would have happened.”

  “I don’t know what you’re saying, baby, but if Blacky was on a case and got shot near Laredo, it had nothing to do with you and you couldn’t have prevented it if you tried—at least, I don’t see how.”

  Laredo.

  WELL AFTER MIDNIGHT when they arrived at the hospital in Laredo and visiting hours were a thing of the past. Annie made inquiries and found Farrell asleep on a rock hard futon in a waiting room on the fifth floor. She smelled him before she saw him. He smelled like he’d rolled in cow shit.

  “Wake up, sugar pop.” Annie stared down at Farrell’s blood soaked shirt and tears welled up in her eyes.

  That’s Blaine’s blood.

  Farrell opened his eyes but didn’t move.

  “I talked to Blaine’s doctor and he’s not letting him have any visitors until late tomorrow. We have to go somewhere and sleep.”

  Farrell sat up, his eyes half closed. “Where we gonna sleep, Mom?”

  “We can sleep at our ranch north of town or we can get a hotel room.”

  “Hotel would be closer,” said Farrell, “and I’m dead beat.”