by Mark Reps
Josh’s response took Kate a bit by surprise. Her intuitive response was to check her weapon.
“I apologize for being so abrupt,” said Kate. “That was way too personal.”
“No need to apologize, Kate. It probably isn’t one of those questions that has an easy answer. I hunted people--under direct orders. In war it’s kill or be killed. You are hunting or tracking down someone who wants to kill you. Our unit had a single mission. Our job was to track down and eliminate, when possible, the commanders of the Iraqi forces who were ordering the deaths of Kuwaiti civilians.”
“I saw the picture in your office. You were playing with a yoyo, and a bunch of kids were watching you and laughing.”
Josh cleared his throat. He hesitated a moment before speaking.
“There’s a story behind that picture. It’s not one I’ve told many people.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” said Kate.
“Normally I wouldn’t, but somehow it seems like I should. It’s not really a pretty story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
Kate did, and did not, want the facts. She sensed it was important but did not want to intrude too deeply into Josh’s personal life. Somewhat hesitatingly she answered yes.
“That picture was taken on what can only be described as both the best and the worst day of my life. We were operating on the Kuwait-Iraq border after hostilities had ceased. We were providing food and medical care. The Iraqi Red Guard had poisoned the only water supply the village had so we were working on drilling a new well. In return we wanted information about any locals who had been working with the Iraqis. It was a simple trade off, water for information. Most of the villagers were poor farmers. They weren’t political. They didn’t want anything to do with the war. The village leader agreed to help us if we would drill the well and build a soccer field for the kids. We did. The night before the first game operatives sneaked in and planted some land mines in the middle of the field. Four of those kids in that picture were killed when one detonated.”
“I am so sorry,” replied Kate.
Josh cleared his throat again. As he began to speak his words were raspy.
“I was in charge of security. It was my fault. I became insanely angry. I vowed to track down the men responsible and kill them. But my squad leader, God bless him, yanked me out of there. He talked with the commanding officer, and I was put on the next plane back to the states. Someone else literally saved my life. The nightmare of those children dying still haunts me. It took me years to realize that if I had killed the men who killed those kids nothing would have changed, except I would have ended up fighting even more demons.”
Josh stopped talking and looked out the window across the desert toward the western mountains. His incredible tale left Kate with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew that if she pulled the trigger on Jimmie Joe or Ángel it would be out of duty, not hatred. Still, it might boil down to just that, her pulling the trigger and ending a human life. In the heat of the moment, what would she do? Time would tell.
At the turnoff to the old mine road, Zeb pulled over. He got out of the car and crouched in the middle of the road. Two sets of tire tracks headed up the old mine road. One set was extra wide with a deep tread. The other set of tracks indicated small tires with little tread. Josh had guessed right. Zeb picked up some dirt in his hand. It was sifting through his fingers when the ringer on his cell phone buzzed loudly.
“Sheriff Hanks.”
“Zeb, Max Muñoz. Do you have a minute?”
“Not really.”
“Zeb, it’s about your brother, Noah.”
Zeb immediately felt his blood pressure rising. His fucked up brother was always inserting himself into his life at the worst possible moment.
“Did your men find him and that goddamn stolen Corvette?”
“He’s dead, Zeb, assassinated with a single shot to the head. He’s been dead for almost a week. We’ve got an eyewitness.”
Zeb’s heart squeezed tightly in his chest. The pit of his stomach sank like a stone. Noah had led a bad life, but he did not deserve to die like this.
“Who, what, how?”
“The eyewitness is one of your brother’s pals. They were going to get together after Noah delivered the Corvette to an ex-con named Jimmie Joe Walker. Walker was supposedly paying him five hundred bucks to deliver the vehicle. The witness was going to meet Noah, but he was running late. When he came on the scene, there was a big argument between Noah and Walker. He stayed hidden and watched as the two exchanged words. Without warning Walker pulled his weapon, plugged him point blank and took off in the Vette. We’ve got an APB on the car. I am so sorry.”
“We are hot on Jimmie Joe Walker’s trail as we speak. I’ll get that son of a bitch.”
“Stay cool. If you act in anger, you’re likely to make a mistake.”
“I’ll try and keep that in mind. But give it one second’s thought as though it were your brother who was murdered in cold blood. Goodbye.”
Zeb was ready, maybe even eager in the heat of the moment, to kill the man who killed his brother. His red hot anger was juxtaposed by the strange blend of anxiety and cool calmness that comes with having been tested under stress.
Josh pulled his vehicle up behind Zeb’s. Josh got his dogs from the truck’s kennel. Kate stepped out of the vehicle. The look on Sheriff Hanks’ face told her something was wrong.
“What is it, Sheriff?” asked Deputy Steele.
“The Corvette. Noah stole it.”
“Did they find it?”
“No.”
“What then?”
“The theft was a consignment job for Jimmie Joe Walker. When Noah delivered it…”
Sheriff Hanks found himself choking back tears as the words he spoke made it suddenly all too real. Just as quickly he stuffed his emotions, another little trick he had learned in his hard life.
“Jimmie Joe Walker murdered him. Shot him in the head.”
Kate and Josh were stunned silent.
“You good enough to carry on, Zeb?” asked Josh. “We will understand if you can’t.”
Zeb stared ahead blankly. A hawk swooped down, grabbed a baby rabbit and broke his line of sight. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, assured.
“We’ve got a killer to find,” said Sheriff Zeb Hanks. “I’ve been on the first part of this road before. It gets pretty rough about three miles in. Are your dogs going to be okay in the back of your rig?”
“They’re pretty tough old boys,” replied Josh.
“Are they going to give us away in close quarters?” asked the sheriff.
The dogs were pawing around, snorting, whimpering and tugging against their leashes.
Josh unleashed the dogs, gave another hand signal that apparently meant “kennel up”, and like soldiers instantly obeying a command, they were back in the vehicle, fully poised, at attention and ready to go.
“Follow me,” said Sheriff Hanks.
36
The first couple miles of the ill-maintained mining road were covered with wild sagebrush and a variety of scrub trees. It was passable…with careful maneuvering. Large boulders placed every quarter mile were evidence of the tribal desire to close the road to outsiders. Roughly three miles off the main road the landscape changed dramatically. What had been a flat, straightaway became a series of switchbacks, blind curves and washouts as the road began to climb through a series of ever increasing elevations.
“What’s that? Over there.” Deputy Steele pointed into a distant crevasse where reflected light flickered against the brown landscape.
“It could be windshield glass,” said Josh.
She removed a small pair of binoculars from a case on her belt. “Bingo. We’ve got ourselves a yellow Vega.”
“Scan the surrounding area,” said Josh. “Do you see anyone moving around?”
She saw nothing. Five minutes later at the top of a stone plateau the team stood around the aband
oned, rusted out, yellow Vega. Sheriff Hanks popped open the hood.
“It still has a leaky radiator,” he said. “This baby isn’t going another foot.”
Ahead, where the road once again turned to hardened dirt and crushed gravel, Zeb examined a single set of oversized tire tracks. In the Vega, Kate found blood on the steering wheel. Josh leashed his dogs and made half circles fifty feet away from the car searching for human tracks. He then placed some equipment into a small backpack and joined Kate.
“Zeb, I’ve got some tracks here. They are identical to the ones at the trailer and at the Madrigal place, said Josh. “A small man’s tennis shoe.”
Sheriff Hanks did a slow three-hundred-sixty degree scan of the area.
“What do you think, Josh?” he asked.
“I think we’re hunting a hunter. I’m fairly certain Ángel is going cross country to try and catch up with Jimmie Walker. My guess is Jimmie Joe double crossed him and Ángel is eager for a little vengeance.”
“That young kid would be taking a helluva chance in this country going against a highly armed sociopath,” said Deputy Steele.
“But he’s got one distinct advantage,” said Sheriff Hanks. “He knows this road like the back of his hand. His grandfather taught him to drive on this road when he was a trucker for the mines,” said Zeb.
“Ángel started driving this road when he was ten years old,” added Kate. “Eskadi got that information for me from some Apaches who worked with Felipe Madrigal.”
“Unless that young kid is completely out of his mind we can assume he’s got at least some kind of weapon,” said the sheriff. “That makes him dangerous to us.”
“Here.”
Josh handed his truck keys to Sheriff Hanks.
“I’ll follow him. He should be easy to track. I don’t think he’s going to do much to cover his trail.”
“Josh, take this rifle,” said Sheriff Hanks.
“Keep it for yourself,” replied Josh.
“I guess with your arm in that cast you’re not going to be much of a shot,” said Sheriff Hanks.
“I’ve got the dogs. Besides which, I don’t plan on shooting anyone…unless my life or one of yours is in imminent danger,” replied Josh. “I gave that shit up.”
Kate knew exactly what was behind Josh’s statement. Zeb had a pretty good idea.
“We had better get moving,” said Zeb.
“Right now we’ve only got a couple hours of good daylight ahead of us. I expect Ángel is going to try and surprise Jimmie Joe up ahead,” said Josh. “But if what Eskadi says about the road is right, Walker may well have to abandon his truck sooner than he planned.”
“Jimmie Joe may or may not know Ángel is after him,” said the sheriff. “He may think that we have him. We had better assume Jimmie Joe figures we’re not too far behind him. Remember Jimmie Joe will be listening for us or anything out of the ordinary. We don’t want him to end up hearing us. Do your best to keep any noise to a minimum. If we have an element of surprise on our side, we don’t want to lose it,” said Josh.
“I’ve got a set of walkie-talkies in the trunk,” said the sheriff. “I want you to take one so we can keep in contact. In these hills and canyons I don’t know how much good they’ll do, but they’re better than nothing.”
Zeb, Kate and Josh all switched their walkie-talkies to silent signal mode, opting for a continual dual flash of the red light and a buzz as a signal for requested communication. In the event of an emergency it was agreed that flipping the override switch would be the best form of instant verbal communication. Josh’s vehicle had four-wheel drive and would make the trip better than the police vehicle.
Zeb shifted Josh’s truck into low gear. Haltingly he made his way along the treacherous winding road. Josh and Kate headed out on foot, following the tracks of Ángel Gómez. As they moved stealthily through a run off wash, Josh crouched to the ground every hundred yards or so, his animal like senses honed in on the world around him. An hour passed before he spoke.
“Ángel’s lost blood,” said Josh. “He is tiring and beginning to stumble.”
Kate had seen two smeared bloodstains on rocks earlier, but other than the occasional impression of a sneaker in the sand she had spotted little else.
“He’s bleeding from the head,” said Josh.
“How do you know that?” she asked.
“The blood pattern on the rock back there. The one you noticed. That blood was from his hand.”
Josh rubbed his hand against an imaginary cut on his face, squatted near a rock and used a flat hand to push himself up. His muted explanation was perfect. Blood on the fingers would leave exactly the smear mark she had seen.
“I noticed three other splatter patterns on the rocks. It was very faint or I’m sure you would have seen it. Blood falling from up here--”
Josh gently rubbed his hand against her forehead.
“--would create a central point with a small splatter pattern when it hit the ground or something on the ground.”
“Shouldn’t the blood from his wound be clotting after this amount of time?”
“Maybe it’s a big cut. Or maybe he keeps touching it and irritating it. It could be a gunshot wound.”
“How do you know he’s stumbling?”
“He is walking on the outside front part of his foot, rolling it over and pushing off his big toe,” explained Josh. “He’s faltering forward as he walks. It could be from fatigue or pain or both. He had a big night last night. In all the excitement he probably didn’t get much sleep. There’s a pretty good chance he’s dehydrated too. He’s probably running on sheer force of will at this point. To say nothing of the fact that it must be quite an adrenaline rush to steal a million dollars.”
“I’m sure it is,” replied the deputy. “Most people would do just about anything for a million dollars.”
“Some people don’t know there’s more to life than money,” said Josh.
“Like the thrill of the chase, maybe?”
“You tell me,” replied Josh.
Josh Diamond’s double entendre was all too obvious. Kate took a deep breath.
“Did you see evidence at the Madrigal place which makes you think he’s been shot?” asked Deputy Steele.
“There was a bloody towel in the driveway culvert. I gave it to the sheriff. My suspicion was that, with this kind of money involved, Jimmie Joe shot Ángel and left him for dead.”
With the gradual change in daylight from the sun beginning to disappear behind the higher hills, the desert temperature cooled down quickly. Josh’s dogs became only slightly excited as they began to sense the onset of early evening animal activity. These were the most well trained dogs Kate had ever observed.
“The setting sun is working against us,” remarked Kate. “Ángel or Jimmie Joe could be hiding in the shadows just about anywhere out there.”
“Good call. You’re right. We should move very carefully until we can use nature to our advantage. We need the advantage of dusk. Let’s rest very briefly, then get moving.”
Josh took a position on a rock just into the shadows. Even from fifteen feet away Kate would have missed him if she hadn’t known he was sitting there.
“Drink some water,” he advised. “I’ve done a lot of remote desert reconnaissance work. It’s very easy to get dehydrated and not even know it, especially under stress.”
She sat, removed a canteen from her hip and took a long drink. In the distance something scurried in the underbrush.
“Small animal, not our man,” said Josh without moving a muscle. “But we are getting close. Look.”
Josh shined a small flashlight on a spot half way between them. It was fresh blood.
“The dogs found it,” he said. “Mutt is trained to point his tail downward when he smells human blood.”
37
A nearly translucent moon was rising in the eastern sky. Sunlight was lessening more quickly than was ideal for tracking purposes. Josh surveyed the area with his
binoculars.
“We’ve got forty-five minutes, maybe an hour, until darkness plays a huge factor. We need to keep moving, but we have to be careful. Let’s roll.”
Moving through the desert undergrowth in sparse light proved much easier than Kate had imagined. Following Josh’s lead they moved as if a single person. At three minute intervals he directed her with hand signals to stop and listen. Josh shined the directed light of a laser flashlight ahead and motioned for Kate to have a look. A mother skunk, teaching her children how to survive and hunt in the night, stared disdainfully at them. Another quarter mile on, Kate and Josh halted simultaneously. Ahead, around a corner in a small box canyon, a muted noise came drifting through the darkness. As they moved closer the shrill sound of satanic laughter became hauntingly clear.
“We’ll move up along the base of the canyon wall,” whispered Josh. “Stay low. When we get to the outcropping, stay put. I’ll move ahead, see what’s going on.”
Deputy Steele knew Josh could see the slight nod of her head as dusk crept over them.
“Make sure you are feeling everything with your feet. I do not want anything to give us away now.”
It was a point well taken. Josh suddenly signaled her to stay put. He sneaked away from the protection of the canyon wall, sliding into the underbrush on his stomach using his elbows to propel himself forward. She watched as he noiselessly disappeared into the desert underbrush. She was amazed that even one arm in a cast didn’t deter him from his mission.
The quiet desert air carried every sound from the canyon to Kate’s sharpened ears. Words suddenly became clear. One man with a deep voice was speaking. The gringo accent made her certain it was Jimmie Joe. His voice became clearer as the anger in his voice increased.
“Fool. You should never have followed me.”
“You killed Juanita.” Ángel’s voice was full of defiance, hatred and anger.
“Yes,” taunted Jimmie Joe. “Yes I killed your lovely Juanita. Her throat crushed as easily as a hummingbird’s.”
Ángel vomited.
“Do you want to know what her last words were? She begged me not to kill you. She pleaded for your life to be spared as I was taking hers. Oh, she was loyal to you, muchacha. Very soon that loyalty will be rewarded when you join her in hell.”