by DiAnn Mills
An explosion of blood and tissue burst onto the front of Tori. Ustach fell backward, a shock of red on his chest. Tori shoved Aznar to the ground.
A split-second paralysis hit Cole. Shaking off his fear of the past, he lunged toward the scene. “Everybody down!”
Another shot fired, and a man about twenty feet away grabbed his shoulder.
TORI DREW HER WEAPON while searching for signs of the shooter. Two shots. No more fire. She rolled off Aznar and crawled to Ustach. Empty eyes met her, open and lifeless. A hole in his heart. “Please. Don’t give up,” she whispered.
Aznar handed her his T-shirt, and she pressed it against Ustach’s chest. He knelt on the other side of Ustach. “Hey, man, you’re gonna be okay.”
She touched the man’s neck for a pulse. Nothing. His lips held no semblance of air.
She listened for a heartbeat, but only silence met her. Not the way a good man should die. She looked into Aznar’s face, wrenched in grief. “He’s gone. I’m sorry.”
“How did this happen?” His words broke.
What could she say? Canned responses were useless, so she took Aznar’s hand. She’d been there before . . . staring into the eyes of a victim. Her gaze swung to the man who’d been injured. A shoulder wound. With the help of two men, he walked her way.
Ustach had been shot through the heart, while the other man cradled his shoulder. Realization flowed through her. A sniper seldom missed. Only a fool would label this a random shooting. Ustach had been targeted. What did the man know that got him killed?
“Tori, are you all right?” Cole’s words shattered her thoughts.
He grimaced and bent to her side. His thumb traced over her left cheek. “Want to make sure that’s not yours.”
The blood from when she attempted to find a heartbeat. “I’m okay. Angry. This was a hit.”
“I agree.” He gripped Aznar’s shoulder while Tori kept her hand firmly around his. “911 is on the way. Max called for backup.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m going after the shooter.”
“Wait until help gets here.”
“Not while a killer gets away.”
“Take your truck.”
Before she could protest further, he hurried to his vehicle and headed east in the direction of the shot’s trajectory. She focused on Preston Ustach. Blood and death. Anger swirled against the killer, and she fought hard to keep her thoughts away from raw emotions.
Cole raced across the flat level of sparse grasses following motorcycle tracks leading to the road. A few trees could have hidden the sniper.
A man killed on his watch.
Cole had frozen. . . . Did anyone notice? When the bullet hit Ustach’s chest, he’d been transported back to being shot and left for dead. But he’d found the courage to do his job. Thank You, God.
He’d not forget today.
He sped to the area where the shot had originated, approximately 820 yards away. Nearing a lone oak, he noted crumpled grass the length of a man. About six feet. Tread marks of a motorcycle. The indentations of a rifle and bipod aimed at the rig. Spent casings from an M110. Where had the sniper gone once he reached the road?
Dust kicked up in the distance. Cole gunned the gas to where the sniper had disappeared. The field emptied onto a dust-covered road. Two sets of fresh motorcycle tracks traveled right and left, dirt flying in both directions. Identical treads. A setup for a kill and to confuse law enforcement.
Blowing out his frustration, he whirled his truck around to document the crime scene.
Near the roughnecks and Tori, Max was bent over in a coughing spasm. Cole’s concern leveled on a man who’d been assassinated and the woman who watched it happen.
Tori stood, her face, jacket, and blouse stained in blood, phone to her ear, and her weapon drawn. All the while she looked around as if the shooter might appear again. Aznar bent at the dead man’s side. The toolpusher close by. The others formed a semicircle around Ustach, including the wounded man clutching his shoulder. Most of the men’s experiences with death came from accidents and illnesses, not murder.
Tori slipped her phone into her pocket seconds before Cole reached her. She trembled slightly, but he’d not mention it.
“Find anything?” she said.
“Signs of the shooter about a half mile away. At the dirt road were indications of two bikes to throw us. They went in opposite directions. Took pics at the sniper’s nest, but only one set of tracks there. Bullet casings from an M110.”
Worry etched on her face. “Someone was afraid of what Ustach would tell us.”
Sirens drew closer.
Cole joined Aznar beside the body. The man was pressing his thumb to his eyes with one hand and swiping at his nose with the other. “I’m really sorry.”
“Preston wanted to do his part in finding Moore’s killer,” Aznar said. “This is how he paid for it. The shooter rode a bike?”
“Yes. Seen any around here?”
“All the time.”
“Did Lawd have one?”
“No. A pickup.”
Cole made a mental note to check DMV records on Lawd. “Had Mr. Ustach ever mentioned anyone threatening him?”
Aznar shook his head. “Get your hands on Franc Lawd. If you don’t, we will.”
“We’ll find whoever’s responsible and make sure justice is served. Is there family for Mr. Ustach whom we can notify?”
The man took a heaving breath. “His mother lives outside Texas City. She’s a widow. I’ll be leavin’ to see her once the ambulance’s here.”
“I’d like to ride along with you.”
“Why?” He narrowed a distrustful glare.
“Because no one should have to tell a mother her son’s dead.”
“A couple of other guys will want to go, but you’re welcome.”
Cole thanked him. “I want to tell her I’m not stopping until I find out who did this to her son.”
TORI HANDED MAX the plastic bag containing her bloody jacket, blouse, and pants. One of the men from the rig had phoned his wife and made arrangements for her to drive by Walmart for jeans and a T-shirt. Tori gladly accepted them, reflecting a moment on the kindness of good people.
“Sure you’re all right?” Max squinted in the sun.
“I’m doing my best. Sorta hard when a sniper takes out a man standing beside me.” Wearing clothes spotted with a dead man’s blood had fogged her mind, shaken her. She slipped off plastic gloves and dropped them inside the bag.
Max sealed it, then handed her a bottle of water. “One of the men thought you might need this.”
She uncapped it and took a drink. What should have tasted refreshing hit the bottom of her stomach and threatened to come back up.
“You’re green,” he said. “Another woman would be on a stretcher.”
“I’m giving it serious consideration.”
He gave her a sideways smile. “I have a few more men to interview. Should get it done before Jeffers returns from sympathy duty.”
Disgust had hit its limit. “Number one, I have the skill set to interview, and I’m still your partner. Number two, exhibiting a human trait doesn’t make him less of a man.”
“Point taken.”
She hoisted her shoulder bag. “You should have gone with him. I’m capable of taking care of myself.”
He frowned. “Suit yourself.”
For what seemed like the hundredth time, she scanned the area where the sheriff’s department and agents now swarmed. Concentrating on her job and not the impact of a man’s violent death made sense, if she could follow through. Later she’d break down. “Have they found anything?”
“Not any more than Cole.” Max nodded at the rig’s security camera. “We caught the aftermath, flat good that does.”
She pointed to the five men near Cole’s truck waiting for an interview. “What have the other men given you to follow up on?”
“Very little. It’s recorded. We’ll pull it together later. The two who went with Cole and Azn
ar might know more, which could be why they were in a hurry to visit Ustach’s mother.”
“Once we’re back at the office, we’ll look at backgrounds—priors, military. The victim was the only name that came to our attention. He had info about the bombing, but what about the second man who was shot? Before the ambulance left with him, he claimed not to have seen a thing.” A flash of the bullet entering Ustach’s chest sickened her. “I want to talk to Franc Lawd. See if he knows anything. Cole requested a background on him before the shooting.”
“He texted me while you were changing,” Max said. “Said he’d send Lawd’s report as soon as he received it. I’d rather it had gone through our office instead of the US Marshals.”
She was too whipped to argue with him and turned toward Cole’s truck. “Those men have stood there long enough.”
Shortly after the interviews concluded, Cole returned from notifying Preston Ustach’s mother about her son’s death. He drove Aznar’s Jeep. Two other men who’d ridden with him walked back to the rig. Cole’s features were stoic. She’d been there, wanting to offer comfort when nothing would bring back a loved one. Guilt made them all angry and full of shame, even though the fault lay with the sniper.
“I didn’t hear or see anything to raise suspicion,” he said. “Two of the men cried like babies. Aznar stayed with Ustach’s mother until her daughter arrived.”
“How’s the mother?”
“In shock. I suggest we talk to her tomorrow. Right now she’s having trouble processing one breath to the next.”
She despised senseless death. They made the rounds to the agents, sheriff’s deputies, and US Marshals sweeping the area. Media reporters were on the scene too, and she’d rather not get tangled up with what happened when she hadn’t figured it out herself.
As they made their way to Cole’s truck, his phone buzzed. He read the message before giving them his attention. “Lawd’s record.”
“What did you learn?” she said.
“He has no priors. Army background—medical corps. A nurse at St. Luke’s downtown. Lives in Texas City. Divorced. No kids. Not even a speeding ticket. He did find a way to get past the security guard here and questioned some of the men about Nathan’s business practices. Used the bogus story about having a son killed at one of Moore’s sites. Escorted off. No charges filed. No affiliation with any environmental activists.”
“What’s your gut telling you?” Max said.
Thanks, Max. About time you showed Cole a little respect.
“Not sure yet. But I want to know the reason he gained access to this particular drill site. Who are his friends? What do his coworkers say about him? Financials? What about paying him a visit? He works the day shift and should be home by now.”
“Good call,” Max said.
“Glad I met your approval.”
Tori opened the rear door of Cole’s truck. Exhaustion hit her, but the weariness was stress. She recognized the symptoms and would deal with it when the day ended. Having the backseat to herself sounded good. She rested against the leather while willing the throb at the base of her neck to vanish so she could think. His truck rode smooth, and soon the drone of the wheels lulled her toward sleep. Max’s coughing jarred her awake, and the longer his death rattle ricocheted off the sides of the truck, the more she mourned for what stage 3A cancer meant. Why were those close to her plagued by the big C? Worse yet, was she a death magnet?
Definitely stress working overtime.
When Max’s spasms ended, she focused on what they’d learned at the oil rig. The first victim had been a friend who’d betrayed his family and others who’d trusted him. The second tragedy with Preston Ustach added another body to this case.
“What did the pair of roughnecks tell you?” Max said. “They cozied up real tight before Ustach was shot.”
The insinuation irritated her, but she quickly blamed her reaction on the headache. “Actually, they were perfect gentlemen. A little lonely, that’s all. They’re wanting Nathan’s killer found, and like us, they believe his death is linked to the bombing.” She opened her purse for a couple of Tylenol.
Max rubbed his chin. “Ustach’s background cleared. But let’s go back a few years. Might be something there.”
Tori swallowed the two Tylenol dry and snatched her phone. “I will.”
Max banged the side of the truck. “Gotta pull over. Gonna be sick.”
Cole swung his truck onto the right shoulder, spitting stones in the wake. Before he ground the vehicle to a halt, Max opened the door and vomited.
She wanted to help her partner, but he’d never allow it. Cole laid a couple of napkins from Sonic on the passenger seat. He opened his door with a bottle of water in his hand, jogged around the front of the cab, and handed it to Max. Neither man said a word, while the special agent who’d solved one violent crime after another for Houston’s FBI fell prey to his decaying body. The only way she could honor Max was to do her job. She made the request to review the extensive background on Ustach while Max fought to control his body’s violent reaction to what was supposed to lengthen his life.
Moments later, the two men climbed back into the truck. Max thanked him. “Don’t know what’s going to kill me first, the cancer or the chemo and radiation.”
“I’m praying for you,” Cole said. “God can put that cancer into remission.”
Max moaned. “Are you a pew-jumper?”
“I’m a Christian.”
“What have I done to get a yardman who’s a US Marshal and a Bible-thumper?”
Cole chuckled. “You got lucky. Think about it: Do you want a Christian behind the Glock or a US Marshal who likes to get his hands dirty? Actually, you got both.” He pulled his truck onto the interstate.
“We’d better be heading to Lawd’s place,” Max said. “No stops at a church or watering hole to get baptized.”
“Want me to belt out a few bars of ‘Shall We Gather at the River?’”
“Spare me. Got enough of that as a kid.”
Tori’s cell phone buzzed with an incoming call. The screen read Sally and she answered.
“Tori, why didn’t you tell me?” Each word was punctuated with anger.
A dreaded chill crept up her spine. “What are you referring to?”
“Why do the people I care about lie to me? The news is all over the media.” Sally’s voice grew shriller. “Nathan was having an affair. He told me he loved me every day.”
By not informing her friend, Tori had created a chasm between them that might never be repaired. “Tell me what you heard.”
“Does it really matter? As a friend, I deserved to hear it from you first. Not a sound bite from a reporter. How long were you aware of his affair? Have you confirmed she’s pregnant?” Sobs broke her words.
“Sally, I’ll be there tonight and we’ll talk.”
“I don’t need you. My parents are here, and they promised not to keep anything from me. And for the record, I loved Nathan.”
“You’re upset.” Her response was lame.
“You have no idea how I feel. I’ve been betrayed by my husband, his assistant, and my best friend. Who knows? Cole is probably deceiving me too, since he neglected to tell me about his job with the US Marshals. Can you imagine the nightmare this leaves for Lance and Jack? How are they going to face their friends—the ugly things that’ll be said? They will have to live with their father’s duplicity for the rest of their lives. And did I mention a little brother or sister? How endearing. Maybe the baby will have Nathan’s eyes. I despise what all of you have done to what’s left of this family.”
The phone clicked in Tori’s ear. What had she done to her best friend?
COLE SIZED UP FRANC LAWD—about five foot ten with lightly tanned skin. He was dressed in blue scrubs and leaning against the doorway of his second-floor apartment. “Tell me one more time who you are and why you’re here.”
Three teens gawked from about twenty feet away, their phones aimed at the agents. Probably
using Periscope. Cole took long strides to the girls and boy. “This is official government business. I suggest you take yourselves to another area.”
“Free country,” a dark-haired Hispanic girl said. She looked about fifteen.
“True. But do you want the repercussions of interfering with a federal investigation? Are your parents ready to pick you up in juvie?”
Tori touched his arm. “Cole, she isn’t—”
“I’m not FBI,” he said to Tori. “Miss, I suggest you leave.”
The girl opened her mouth, then quickly shut it and walked away with her friends.
One more time Cole introduced himself, Tori, and Max to the suspect.
Lawd beckoned with his fingers. “IDs please. Make it fast ’cause I have things to do.” His black hair had strands of gray and was worn in a foot-long ponytail. He looked to be in his early forties.
They showed their creds and Cole took over. “We understand you were escorted off a drill site near Texas City belonging to Moore Oil & Gas.”
“What of it?”
“We’d like to come in and discuss it.”
He closed the door behind him. “Anything you have to say can happen right here. No way are you getting inside my home.” He appeared to notice Tori. “Not even the pretty brunette.”
“I’m harmless,” she said. “All we have are questions.” Her words landed like honey.
“All right. What do you need to know?”
“We heard a story about your son being killed on Moore property?” Cole said.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have a son.”
Max stepped in front of Lawd, nose to nose. Lawd’s was crooked. “The deputy Marshal requested information, and you got smart. Now I’m asking and I don’t take lip from anybody.”
Cole hid his amusement. Max sounded like Dirty Harry.
Lawd moved aside, his back against the door. “I was curious about what went on there. So I found a way past security and asked a few questions.”