by Carolina Mac
“We followed the trail behind the meth lab to see where it came out.”
“And?”
“Came out to a laneway. Looked like a big farm. Some cows in a field and like that.”
“Cows,” said Joey. “Will you show me the cows, Daddy?”
“Sure, I will.” He gave Joey a grin then turned back to Grace. “Ted found this.” Rob reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out the badge.
Grace studied it. “Mineral Springs, is that…?”
Rob nodded. “Where Darlene lives, and works.”
“Where did Ted find it?” Grace asked like she was afraid to hear the answer to her question.”
“Buried near the corner of the building,” Rob whispered.
Grace said nothing more. She put a plate of bacon and eggs in front of Rob and popped down four slices of toast. “How would you get to that farm property from here?” she asked. “If you didn’t run through the woods?”
“Right turn from the park entrance, and then maybe another right, two miles down the highway.” Rob picked up his fork. “Just a guess.”
Grace nodded. “Do you want me to call Agent Prescott and tell him about the badge? I think it’s important proof that Darlene was there.”
“Yeah, we need to call him again, and could you ask if they found anything inside the building?”
“Do you think they’d tell me?” asked Grace. “Details of a case and all that. They might not.”
Rob inhaled before he put it out there. “Not meaning anything by this, Gracie, but I think Anson would tell you before he would tell me.”
“Sure, okay. Maybe you’re right. He’s been pretty open with me about past cases, and case histories I was researching for my last book. Right after breakfast, I’ll find out for you.”
Rob got up to pour himself another coffee and his cell rang. “Yeah, Tommy, I did call you.”
“What’s going on down there with you two? Why hasn’t Darlene come home yet? My dad is getting worried.”
“Umm… that’s why I called Tommy. Darlene is missing.”
“Missing?” Tommy hollered into the phone. “She can’t be missing. If anybody can take care of themselves, it’s my sister—super-cop, Darlene.”
“Her Jeep is parked in my driveway and has been since yesterday, and we can’t find her.”
“Jesus Christ, I can’t believe what you’re telling me,” said Tommy. “Did you call the local cops?”
“The sheriff sent a deputy out here and he didn’t take it too seriously.”
“Did he file a report?”
“No, but my wife called her friend in the DEA and the feds are on it now.”
“What the fuck?” Long pause. “Federal Agents? I’m closing the store and coming down there. Give me directions.”
ROB STUFFED Grace’s blue rubber gloves in the back pocket of his jeans and trudged next door to Sid’s trailer. He thought a closer look at Sid’s digs in the daylight might turn something up. Ted followed and whined at the door. “Okay, you can come.”
“Be careful,” said Grace, “I keep saying that, but I don’t want you getting hurt or getting into something you can’t get out of.”
“Me neither,” mumbled Rob as he closed the back door behind him.
Don’t know why I’m still looking for her. She’s already fuckin dead. I can feel it in my gut.
He crossed from the back of Grace’s trailer to Sid’s back door in about ten strides, pulled on the gloves that were too small for his big hands and tried the knob. Still unlocked. Why did he think it might not be? Had he heard something in the night? Was he turning fuckin paranoid like the guys in his range? They always thought somebody was behind them with a shiv, sharp as a scalpel, aimed at their kidneys. Fuck, would he ever shake Millhaven from his brain? Not in this lifetime.
From the back door, the hallway was short. Two doors. Two small bedrooms. The first one looked like a crude attempt at an office. Old table holding a computer and printer. A vinyl swivel chair with a ripped seat. A dozen beer cans next to the keyboard.
Was Sid the one who kept track of the customers? The DEA might want the computer.
“I don’t even know how to turn a computer on,” Rob mumbled to Ted. “Grace could do it.”
Ted wagged his tail when Rob spoke to him. “Couldn’t read nothing anyway when it came on the fuckin screen. Our secret, Ted.”
Ted moved to the next room and Rob followed. “Guess this is where Sid slept. What a fuckin mess.” The air in the room stunk of body odor, dirty socks, and weed. Rob’s nose turned up and he backed up a step. The double bed was unmade, blankets hanging off. Filthy pillows. Grace would throw up if she saw that. Dirty clothes heaped on a chair by the window.
Rob checked the closet—no door. Two rifles standing stock-down against the wall. One Remington and one expensive looking Beretta. A cardboard box filled with ammo boxes and an old Colt. Two jackets on hangers. One pair of swamp boots. No other clothes.
The kitchen stunk worse than the bedroom. Moldy dishes stacked high in the sink. Pizza rotting in cardboard boxes. Garbage bags full, but not tied up and taken outside. Flies buzzing over everything. Spilled beer. Empty whisky bottles and glasses on the table. Overflowing ash trays. A deck of cards scattered on the table.
Ted growled as Rob approached the closed bathroom door.
Jeeze, is there somebody in the fuckin bathroom?
Only took a second to find out. The door opened, and Sid had him by the throat. The big fucker was strong and was doing his damndest to choke the life out of him. Rob swept Sid’s left leg and he stumbled against the wall with a loud crash but didn’t fall. He roared and came at Rob with renewed hate. He grabbed a handful of Rob’s long hair and twisted it around his right fist, jerked Rob’s head back and slammed him in the face with his left.
Rob groaned as the pain bounced around in his brain like silver pinballs in the machine. He shook it off and drove Sid as hard as he could in the gut and when Sid bent slightly forward he planted the heel of his boot under Sid’s jaw. A move he’d practiced a hundred times over in his cell. Rob heard the crack of Sid’s jawbone and redoubled his efforts.
Sid was on his back in the hallway and Rob was ready to finish him when he heard the back door open. Sounded like four or five of them coming in and hollering. “What’s taking you so fucking long, Sid. We’ve got work to do.”
Ted growled as Rob ran for the front door. He and the dog beat it next door before any of Sid’s crew saw them.
Hate running from a fight, but I need to stay alive to find Darlene.
WHILE ROB WAS next door searching Sid’s trailer, Grace bundled Joey into his stroller and walked down the road to Kiley’s unit. A few toys were scattered in the sandbox and near the swings, but the trailer looked deserted. No vehicle in the driveway. No Harley. Grace pushed the stroller up to the front step and knocked on the door. She waited. No response.
She was about to leave when she heard crying inside. She knocked again, harder this time, and called out, “Kiley, it’s Grace. Do you need help?”
Slowly the door opened a crack. “Hi, Merrilee. Is Mommy okay?”
“Mommy broken.”
“Oh, no. Can I come in and see her?”
Merrilee opened the door wider and Grace could see Kiley lying on the sofa, a sloppily bandaged right leg propped up on a cardboard box.
Grace took Joey out of his stroller, carried him in and set him down on the floor. “What happened?” she asked Kiley. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Before Kiley could answer, Sky stomped out of the bedroom and hollered, “If she needs something, I’ll take care of it. We don’t need your help, you interfering bitch. Get the hell out of my trailer.”
Joey started to cry. Raised voices always frightened him. Grace picked him up and walked out the door. She grabbed the stroller and left as quickly as she could.
Would it do any good to call the police?
She arrived home on the run just a
s Rob returned from Sid’s trailer. “What’s going on, baby?” Rob grabbed her and held her in his arms. “Why did you go out? I told you not to.”
Grace nodded. Tears streamed down her face and she couldn’t speak.
“Where did you go? And why in fuckin hell did you take Joey?” Rob paced with fists clenched. “I want you and Joey to drive into the city and stay in a hotel until this is finished.” He stopped six inches from Grace’s tear-stained face and said, “Are you listening to me? I don’t want you hurt.”
“I’m listening, Robbie. “I thought Kiley might know something about where Darlene was if Sky was in on it with Sid. That’s all. I was trying to help you.”
Rob held her close and kissed her. “You can’t help without putting yourself and Joey in the middle of it. Pack your stuff. Do it for me, please Grace. I’m begging you.”
Grace took a good look at him. “What happened to your face? You’ve been in a fight. Who with? Was Sid in his trailer?” She started to sob.
Rob took her in his arms and held her. “Don’t cry, Gracie. Don’t cry. Sid came in when I was looking around, and yes, we had a fight. I had him. I fucking had him when a bunch of his buddies came looking for him and I had to book it. I’m no coward, but I can’t beat off five of them at the same time.”
“Of course, you can’t. Nobody can. I just hate to see you get hurt. Let me fix your face for you before I get ready to leave.”
“Okay, I’ll sit on the toilet seat and you can play doctor.”
Grace washed away all the blood, put antiseptic cream on all the cuts and then applied a couple of bandages. When she finished, she kissed his face. “Did Sid come out worse than you?”
“Broke his jaw,” said Rob.
“Bet that made him mad,” said Grace.
Rob nodded. “While you get ready, I’m going to take a run around the block and see if I can get a fix on the farm property where the bush trail comes out.”
“I’ll be ready to go when you get back.”
ROB JUMPED ON his Harley and tried to start it. He hadn’t ridden for a couple of days, and it was sluggish. Third try and it rumbled into a steady rhythm. He backed it out of the short drive, cruised around the curved road that took him past Sky Brady’s trailer and headed for the gate.
The highway that passed by the park wasn’t busy, especially mid-day. People that lived north of San Antonio were mostly commuters to the big city, according to Grace. Not too many employment opportunities in and around Dry Springs.
Rob clocked off two miles on the speedo and he had almost reached the corner where he figured he should turn. He flicked on his signal and bang. The bullet took him in the left leg. The bars twisted out of his gloved hands. The bike bit into gravel on the shoulder of the road and he rolled into the ditch with the weight of the Sportster on top of him.
Buried in the long grass, he grunted and laid still. Nothing else he could do. Pain shot up from his thigh and into his brain. Warm blood flooded out of the wound and soaked through his jeans. He was pinned. Dizzy. Blackness closing in and he was close to losing consciousness. Couldn’t move. Could hear them shouting, shutting down their bikes and running towards him.
Fuckin Aryans. They had him now.
They had almost reached him. Boots clunking along the gravel. How many this time?
He heard a siren and thought he was dreaming. “Fuck. Cops are here when I need them? Must be a fuckin miracle.”
Rob closed his eyes. Lay still under his bike and listened to the exchange of gunfire.
Automatic weapons. How many of the fuckers were laying down sprays? I’m glad I’m under here.
Two bodies fell close to him, but he couldn’t see them. He could only hear—moans and screams of pain. They were hurt bad. Dying even.
When the shots stopped, and the air cleared, he heard talking. “Call the sheriff. We need to get this assassination attempt documented and get ID’s on these guys.” Anson’s voice.
Blackness was rolling in when a couple of guys lifted the bike off him. “Rob is wounded,” said Anson. “Gunshot to the thigh. Bleeding bad. Call an ambulance.”
ROB OPENED HIS eyes and Grace was staring down at him, stroking his long hair back from his forehead. She smiled. “The bullet is out, Robbie. You’re going to be okay.” She leaned in closer and kissed him. “Anson and his partner killed two of the guys that were after you, and arrested the rest of them.”
All he could do was nod his head. He felt so sleepy. Grace kept talking and he tried to sort out her words in the cobwebs of his brain. “Anson and Agent Valdez are staying with me and Joey at the trailer tonight, so I won’t be alone. I’m not going to a hotel.”
Rob nodded again, tried to fight the drugs. Couldn’t do it. Closed his eyes.
TOMMY STEELE sat on the front step of the trailer, hunched forward, smoking, waiting for someone to show up. He jumped to his feet and introduced himself to Grace when she arrived with Prescott and Valdez in the vehicle behind her. “I’m Tom Steele, Darlene’s brother, and you’re Rob’s wife. I’ve seen your picture.” He stuck out a hand. “You’re more beautiful in person. Can’t say I believed you were Rob’s wife at first… but you must be.”
Grace tried to smile but her eyes overflowed as she took Tommy’s hand. “Rob was shot earlier today, and I’ve just come from the hospital.”
“Shot? Was it the people who took Darlene?”
Before Grace had a chance to explain about the prison gang, an older man opened the passenger door of the car and stepped out. “This is my dad, Tom Senior. He came with me because he’s worried about my sister.”
The two agents trudged in from the road and introduced themselves to the Steeles. “We’re all extremely worried about Deputy Steele,” said Anson. “We’ve mounted a full-scale search for her in this county.”
“What’s the DEA got to do with this?” asked Tom, his blue eyes focused on the insignia on their jackets. “Is this drug related? Is the local sheriff searching too?”
“Yes, of course, he is. Not much manpower in a tiny town like Dry Springs, but he’s doing his best.”
Joey was growing heavy in Grace’s arms. “Would everyone please come inside. I’ll make a pot of coffee and we can recap everything that has happened.”
With Joey in his high chair, and the adults settled around the kitchen table, Tom and Mr. Steele Senior, a slight man in his sixties with straw colored hair streaked with gray, listened to Agent Prescott’s account of what was going on.
Grace threw in something that the agents didn’t mention, by choice or by chance. “Rob is convinced that Deputy Kuchma is protecting the bikers and their drug business, but we don’t have any proof.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow? “Dirty cops and drug dealers working together in this town? Darlene might be in over her head.”
“I want to talk to the sheriff,” said Mr. Steele, “and see what’s being done to find my daughter.”
Anson checked his watch and said, “The sheriff will be here at the park in an hour. He’s going to tour our crime scene and catch up on what’s been going on in his county. You can talk to him then.”
“Yeah, okay,” said Tom Junior. “Where was the last place Darlene was seen?”
“Rob believes she went next door to Sid’s trailer with Ted while we were in San Antonio,” said Grace.
“Whose Ted?” asked Tom Senior.
“That’s him with his head on your knee,” said Grace.
He smiled down at the dog. “He a tracker?” asked Senior. “I brought clothes of Darlene’s in case they were using tracking dogs.”
“Good thinking, sir,” said Agent Prescott.
“Do you think Ted could pick up her scent, Grace?” asked Tommy.
“We could try,” said Grace. “I don’t object to trying anything that will get results. I want to find Darlene.” She took Joey out of his highchair and carried him to his bedroom for a nap.
AN HOUR LATER the sheriff of Dry Springs arrived with one of his dep
uties. Grace hadn’t met either one of them before, and the pair of them struck her as slipshod. Wrinkled uniforms and muddy boots. Where did the mud come from? No rain lately. The only mud around here was at the river.
The fat guy with the star introduced himself. “I’m Peter John Wyatt, Sheriff of Dry Springs County, and this is Deputy Santaguida.”
The sheriff looked to be on the shady side of fifty, short and fat with gray hair and a gun strapped to his hip. She didn’t know what kind it was, but it was large and had a pearl handle, like in the old westerns. His face was tanned, but lined—premature wrinkles—probably a heavy smoker. She’d never seen a lawman in worse shape.
Santaguida was taller than the sheriff, but that wasn’t saying much. Hispanic. Black hair, combed straight back and dark eyes. He was also stocky, but his gut wasn’t hanging over his belt like the sheriff’s. He might be able to draw his gun if he needed to. The sheriff certainly couldn’t.
Grace invited them in and introduced the two DEA agents, Prescott and Valdez, then the two Steeles. “Deputy Kuchma isn’t with y’all today?” she asked.
The sheriff shook his head, “Kuchma decided to take some vacay time right in the middle of a murder investigation.”
“Why would you let him do that, Sheriff?” asked Grace. “Didn’t you need him?”
“Let him?” Color rose in the sheriff’s fat cheeks and he pointed a nicotine-stained finger at Grace. “Don’t need anybody to help me run my squad, little lady. He had time coming and he deserved it.”
“I bet,” mumbled Grace. Unable to hide her reservations about Kuchma, she drew a look from Anson. “Could I get y’all a cup of coffee, or are you leaving right away to look at the meth lab?”
The sheriff curled a fat lip. “You people seem sure you’ve got a meth lab in your backyard, don’t y’all?”
“Rob smelled them cooking, and he was sure,” said Grace, “That’s good enough for me.”
“And who is this Rob fella?” asked the Sheriff. “He some kind of meth lab expert?”
“He’s my husband,” said Grace, feeling a little heat in her neck. She filled mugs with coffee, rinsed the carafe and made another pot.