“And yet, Santino Paez didn’t tell him that right away, and instead got him to talk to you first? Why?”
“It has to do with his familia,” she’d said, and left it at that.
“Whatever, the less I know, the better. But that lawyer’s taking a risk, a big one. I’ll give him credit for that.” He’d started looking around for his badge and belt. “That fucker Earl never planned to help his son or Nichols or anyone. He’s never going back and he’s never going to testify. He’s not going into witness protection to live out the rest of his days with Nichols or some other agent like him looking over his shoulder. He’s going to run.”
“So what do we do now?”
He’d put the mostly full glass aside, and reached over and picked up his gun and magazine from the table. Both had gone cold while sitting there, untouched.
He’d racked the magazine into place as Amé handed him the single bullet she’d been holding the whole time.
“First we make sure Avalos, or Miguel or whatever the fuck his name is, is telling the truth, and then we’ll figure it out from there.”
* * *
• • •
“LOOK, I CAN’T TELL YOU exactly how big it is, or what’s in it, but it’s there. Max alerted. It’s dope, money, something.”
Big Max was chewing through his towel, still standing guard on the Nissan.
“We looked all through it,” Amé said. “All morning. We saw nothing.”
Bartlett squinted at her. “They’re pretty ingenious nowadays. They got these guys, right? That’s all they do, build these sorts of traps. There may be a sequence of buttons in the car you have to hit, like first turning on the radio to a certain station and then the AC and then rolling down the left window. It may be magnetized, or the only way to get it open may be to cut it out. We can X-ray it at the POE and take a better look.”
Harp kicked at the blown tires. “We’ll have to tow it down there.”
Bartlett nodded. “Yeah, it doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere fast and today’s not good anyway. But if you bring it down tomorrow, or the day after, we can crack her open. Give my guys some time and we’ll find whatever’s in there.”
“Okay,” Harp said, reaching out a hand to Bartlett. “Thanks for coming up. I owe you a beer and burger.”
“Make that two burgers, one for Big Max,” Bartlett said, coaxing the dog from the Nissan and back to his own truck.
Harp stared at Avalos’s car, furious. It sat on its ruptured tires, covered in dust, where it had been left and ignored since the day Tommy Milford had been run down.
Goddamn.
If he’d just done what Chris had told him days and days ago, when the sheriff had been on him about getting a dog on the car. But with Bravo’s murder and then everything with the Earls, he’d let it slip. Like he’d let other things slip, far too many.
He’d talked a big game to Chris about action versus reaction, always faulting the young sheriff for being too patient, too deliberate and always waiting too long to act. But here he was with Avalos’s car and he hadn’t done anything at all.
It had been there all along, right in front of him, waiting for him.
Goddamn.
“Okay, now what?” Amé asked, moving next to him, staring at the car too.
“Well, it seems Avalos is telling the truth. Not much we can do with the car, but we can get Danny Ford the hell outta Killing. Now.”
“Sí, I thought you might say that.”
Harp shook his head. “There’s no reason for him to stay down there even one more day. The whole situation is fucked. I’m going to go down there and get him myself, and put cuffs on that lying sack of shit Earl while I’m at it . . .”
It had been there all along, right in front of him, waiting for him.
“No, Ben, you don’t need to do that—”
“I wasn’t asking, niña. Every minute Danny’s down there, he’s in danger.”
“Verdad, as he was yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And this”—she pointed at the car—“doesn’t change that much. I feel the same way you do, but what we’re going to do is tell the sheriff what we found so he can let Agent Nichols decide how to deal with Earl. Ese es su problema.”
Harp didn’t believe what he was hearing from her, even though he could see her struggling with it: what she really wanted to do, versus what she thought they should do. What the sheriff would want. He’d watched Chris struggle the same way, and maybe the things Avalos had told her had affected her more than she realized. “Amé, Earl has to know by now this car is here. He’s probably known it all along. His hands might as well have been on the wheel when it ran down Tommy. He can’t let it go. He’s coming to get it, one way or another. You see that, right? And that is my problem.”
Amé shaded her eyes with her hand and took in the impound lot, the high fence, and the Nissan’s wrecked tires. “It’s our problem, and it won’t be easy for him.”
“You’re right about that. It’s not going to be easy at all, no matter what. But he won’t stop now. And there’s still Danny . . .”
Amé held up her phone again. “No, like I was trying to tell you, we don’t need to go to Killing. Not for Danny, not for any reason. I’ve already heard from him, he texted me and he’s on his way to meet us. He thinks Vianey Ruiz is in danger. So, while I’m checking in with her, you’re going to call the sheriff and let him know what we found.”
“Goddammit, Chris will go batshit. And after that, he’ll order us to sit tight. He’ll call that fucker Nichols, and Earl’s going to catch wind of what we know and be gone.”
“Está bien. Nichols should know, and if Earl runs, it’s on him.”
“You don’t believe that, you want Earl as bad as I do. And we’re not negotiating . . .”
“Sí, sí, estamos, Ben Harper. I want the man who killed Billy Bravo, but we both know that’s Jesse Earl, not his papa. More than that, I want to make sure Vianey and Danny don’t get hurt, so that’s all we’re agreeing to. If you insist we go down to Killing right now, we go down together, or we don’t go at all. If you walk out of this lot on your own, I’ll call Greer and Emmett and Holt to come grab you. I’ll call the district attorney and tell him all about this. I’ll have the camisetas verdes stop you before you get to Killing. And if I have to, I’ll cuff you to that car there myself.”
“You are one tough bitch, you know that?” But Harp couldn’t help smiling when he said it. She’d outflanked him with the interviews, and she’d done it here again. She knew he would never let her go into Killing with him, not now.
She was a damn good chess player for someone who’d never played the game.
“I had a very good teacher.”
“Well then, I hope you have a good place for Danny to meet us. Someplace safe. Once he’s out of Killing, there’s no need for him to ever go back. We won’t let him.”
Amé put her phone away. “Sí, I know just the place.”
35
Earl had to hold the cell phone away from his ear while Nichols yelled at him during their daily check-in.
He thought at first that Nichols knew about Manny and his people, but it wasn’t that.
Then he thought it had something to do with the little meet-and-greet he’d had with Sheriff Cherry earlier in the morning, but he’d believed the sheriff when he said that was for their ears and no one else’s, and it was soon clear enough anyway, despite all of Nichols’s barking, that the agent didn’t know anything about that, either.
What he did know, and what he was righteously pissed about, was that Thurman Flowers was in Killing and Earl hadn’t said a fuckin’ thing to him about it.
The agent was going on about chat groups or the damn Internet, but it all came down to the fact that he’d been a busy little beaver all on his own, sniffing around and doing his best to keep an eye on Earl even from h
undreds of miles away, and was furious to learn that Earl had been holdin’ out on him.
Hell, he didn’t know the half of it.
Earl had dealt with the agent agitated before, but not like this. Earl figured he was gettin’ squeezed from somewhere above, or someone had burned up the phone lines one too many times to Washington, D.C., or wherever it was someone like Nichols had to answer to.
Earl told him to calm the fuck down, and that only made him madder.
Earl had always known he was runnin’ on borrowed time, so it was no surprise to learn that the agent was, too.
He tried again to get Nichols to shut the fuck up, explaining that everything was still good and still on track. Flowers had arrived only a couple of days ago and Earl didn’t expect any more run-ins with anyone in Murfee, so all he needed was another day or two, which they both knew was such complete and utter bullshit that Nichols laughed at him before he even finished. He told Earl that as bad as he wanted Flowers, and that was bad enough he could almost taste it, he wasn’t going to jeopardize the cases they’d already made on the ABT trying to get him now. Jesse’s little throw-down in Terlingua had fucked all that up, and everyone right along with it, and Earl had doubled down on it by not shooting straight about Flowers’s arrival in Killing. So now he—Special Agent Austin Nichols—was on his way down to Murfee from Dallas to personally straighten this shit out, and Earl better be there waiting for him.
Earl had only as long as it was going to take Nichols to get a flight, and then, no matter what, Nichols was pulling the plug. Party over.
Really, Earl didn’t give a flyin’ fuck about that anyway, since he was gonna be long gone before Nichols had picked up his luggage, but he didn’t like the man pissin’ on him and told him so, suggesting Nichols go righteously fuck himself. He reminded the mouthy agent that he was nothing without Earl, that it was Earl who’d risked everything from the get-go, while Nichols hadn’t risked shit, except his time.
That’s when Nichols went silent for so long that Earl thought he’d hung up, or had thrown the phone across the room, until the agent quietly laughed and said, I’m nothing? Risked nothing? There is no world for you without me. You only exist because I allow it, and I can unmake you with a wave of a hand. You’re an inbred, ignorant cracker who’d still be rotting in jail if I hadn’t stepped in. You’re nothing but a signature on a piece of paper. Let me tell you a story . . .
Then Nichols said a name.
Danny . . .
* * *
• • •
HE CAME BACK INTO THE HOUSE and walked into Jesse, Flowers, and Clutts, who were waiting for him.
He wasn’t in the mood for this, not now, not after what he’d learned from Nichols, but it was clear they weren’t gonna let him pass without having their say.
“Danny finally got the word from his friends up at Fort Bliss. He’s gonna go meet them today,” Jesse said. His face was blue turning to black where Danny had struck him, and one eye was red like a setting sun.
“Well, it seems to me that’s what you all been waitin’ for,” Earl answered, waving at the three in front of him. And he almost laughed out loud. And just a fucking coincidence, too, this mysterious meeting coming on the heels of his talk with Nichols.
Let me tell you a story . . .
Flowers: “Do you still trust Danny after what he did to Jesse? Everything we’re going to do here is based on trust. That’s something I know you understand.”
“Fuck, I don’t trust you, Flowers. I try not to trust anyone.” And yet he had trusted Danny, at least as much as he’d needed to, and look what that almost got him. “And I woulda whupped Jesse myself if I’d known first he was out pokin’ around for this little wetback girl. But it don’t matter, ’cause I made it clear to Danny he ain’t gonna be hittin’ Jesse like that ever again. I told him I’d near kill him myself if he did. The same way I’d do you, if you were to cross me or my boy.”
Flowers raised his hands. “There’s no worry about that. Jesse and I see eye to eye on a lot of things, including our concern about Danny. Jesse thinks he should be followed to see what he’s really up to, and I agree.”
Jesse added, “That old deputy in Murfee called him “Danny” when we were all in that bar, all familiar-like. Like they was old friends, JW, like they was good friends.”
If Jesse had picked up on something subtle like that, Earl was impressed, not that it mattered now. It was too damn late. “Are you two here askin’ my permission or my opinion?”
Flowers put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder . . . all familiar-like. “Honestly, neither, John. We just thought you should know. That issue of trust, again. I wanted to see if it’s going to be a problem.”
Do you know who “Danny Ferro” really is . . . ?
Do you know why he’s there?
You dumb cracker peckerwood piece of shit . . .
Think you can fuck with me?
No, Earl didn’t think it was gonna be a problem at all.
“It mean’s nothin’ to me.” He turned to Jesse. “You think you can handle it?”
“Yeah, he’s goin’ out on his bike. I can take care of it, no problem.”
Earl figured letting Jesse follow Danny from Killing was no different from putting both of the boys’ names in the hat, but he was okay with that. He was finally ready to put all the cards on the table anyway, push all his chips in, and for the second time that morning, he almost laughed out loud. The name Danny had given him, Danny Ferro . . . faro . . . just like that old card game.
A queen of clubs with a ragged black hole in the center, that his daddy said had come from an actual bullet, a faro game gone bad . . .
The boy did have balls.
Do you know who “Danny Ferro” really is . . . ?
You dumb cracker peckerwood piece of shit . . .
Do you know why he’s there?
Think you can fuck with me? . . . I can unmake you with a wave of a hand.
Do you know why he’s there?
Earl focused on Jesse. “Look, borrow a car from the Joyces, he won’t recognize it as quick. Maybe even have Joker and Lee follow in the Marquis, too, way back, just to be sure. Keep an eye out for trouble.”
He was specific about the cars, because it mattered for what he needed to do.
And he was gonna have to do it without Danny, because he was bettin’ on this hand, one way or another, that Danny Ferro, Danny Ford, wasn’t ever coming back to Killing.
“Do what you gotta do, and let’s see if he’s tellin’ us the truth.”
Although Earl already knew the answer.
* * *
• • •
HE COULD HAVE LEFT IT AT THAT, but didn’t. He tracked down Danny, who was outside near his bike.
“They tell me your army boys are finally gonna meet you.”
Danny looked up from where he was kneeling next to his Harley. It was a good-looking bike with a custom paint job, blue and chrome, and with Danny wipin’ it down under the bright sun, it shined like quicksilver. “Yeah, they finally called. I figure I need to at least meet them since I was the one pushing so hard. They’re coming down to Van Horn, so I won’t be too long. Like you said, as long as I’m here, I need to come through with something for Jesse and Flowers. I’ll be back tonight in plenty of time. If you need me to go through Murfee, I can do that, too, for one more look around.”
“Is that right now?” Earl stood over him, casting his shadow. “I have a feelin’ there ain’t no army buddies meeting you in Van Horn, and maybe you’re just gonna keep on ridin’ instead. Is that what you’re gonna do, Danny?”
Danny stood up, wiped his hands on his jeans. “You’ve shot straight with me since you saved my life back in Lubbock, and I owe you that much. I’m the one that asked for this damn meeting with these boys, so just let me take care of it, and I’ll be back to do what y
ou need me to.”
Do you know who “Danny Ferro” really is . . . ?
“Okay, but before you head outta here, hand over that gun in your jeans. If you get stopped or somethin’ bad happens, maybe it’s not such a good idea to have you shootin’ anyone with one of our pieces. Actually, that one was my daddy’s. It’s kinda special to me.”
Danny hesitated, before finally slipping the revolver out of his jeans. He turned it around and handed it grip first to Earl, the muzzle pointed at his own stomach.
Do you know why he’s there?
“You really worry about that now, JW? After all we’ve been through since we got here? I know Flowers is the one who’s supposed to be a pastor, but sometimes I think I’m the only one that’s been preaching any sense. How am I going to defend myself if I run into some trouble?”
Earl smiled and settled the gun into his own jeans.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. These are your buddies, right? And besides, I’ve seen you twice now put up a damn good fight with just your hands. Like I said, you’re a damn hard man to put down. Just like me. I think when this is all done, we’re both gonna be just fine . . .”
36
The HIDTA meeting was held in an office building only a few blocks from the hospital where Chris had stayed after he was shot at the Far Six.
Mel had been at a hotel nearby, although he still couldn’t remember exactly which one. She had visited him every day, sitting by his bedside and holding his hand, her blood mixing with his. One of the doctors told him he’d been dead for a minute, but Mel had helped bring him back to life. She’d given him all the blood she could to replace what he’d lost out in the desert.
He’d died and come back to her.
It was strange to think about that—how there was always a part of her with him. He carried her everywhere. She was his every breath, every heartbeat.
I love you more than life. Some people said those words.
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