Death's Valley

by Roy A. Teel, Jr.

  Andre Espinoza was out of jail, but he knew that his problems were far from over. He was now on the FBI’s watch list, and there was no way to get that monkey off his back. He pulled his cell phone and made a call.

  “Andre, please tell me that you’re not calling me to post your bail?” Andre said nothing. “So, the FBI got you. I told you not to fuck around with Swenson. He’s dangerous. Now you have his attention as well as the sheriff and Hoffman. So what are you going to do?” “Kill them!” said Espinoza. There was laughter on the other end of the line. “Really? Do you think that that is the prudent course of action given the scope and depth of this mission? Do you think the fact that you’re already on their radar is not going to resonate with every law enforcement agency in the city and state? In short, are you really that fuckin’ stupid?”

  “Swenson humiliated me.” There was another laugh. “No, Andre, you humiliated yourself. You also tipped your hand, and I had to use someone else to take out Salazar because you were sitting in jail. Now, there’s good and bad in the fact that I did that. It’s good because it’s going to take attention off of you because you have an airtight alibi. It’s bad because I had to use our secret weapon.” Andre didn’t have to ask who was used; he knew. “So what now, sir?” “You keep to the mission. Forget about Swenson. By the time Swenson and his men know the truth, it will be too late. Then we can turn our attention to eliminating him and the others. Swenson will drop the charges against you today.” “How do you know?” “I know. Trust me. He doesn’t want you distracted from the mission either. Swenson is banking on catching you in the act. So get in position for the next kill.” The line went dead, and Espinoza looked out at Spring Street from the steps of the federal courthouse and on to Olvera Street where the last victim was done in. He walked down the steps and called for a cab to take him home to change.

  John was talking to Jade and after a few minutes of conversation he walked back over to the two men. Steve looked at John and asked, “So, what do you have?” “I don’t have anything. The Eagle does.” Jim got close to John and asked, “Yea, whatever. What does the Eagle have?” “Alberto Alverez.” Jim and Steve both looked on in disbelief. Steve said, “Um…I hate to break it to you, but that guy is dead and is a big reason all of this started.” John just shook his head, and Jim asked, “What do you know?” “Nothing yet. The Eagle will deal with him.” Jim looked on at the burned out wreck of Salazar’s car and asked, “Did he do this?” John nodded. “I don’t get it. Why would a dead guy come back to life to kill a cop?” John shrugged and walked over to the car.

  There was a yellow tarp over the passenger and driver’s side windows. He pulled the driver’s side tarp back, and Salazar was slumped over the wheel, burned to a crisp. Her mouth was open, and her head was down. If he hadn’t known who it was, he could never have discerned from the scene if the victim was male or female. John threw the tarp back down over the car and asked, “Is anyone going to remove the body? We know how she died. This one doesn’t need an autopsy to give us a cause of death; I witnessed it.” Boyd heard the words come out of John’s mouth, but he had no idea how to respond. John looked at Jim and asked while pointing at Boyd, “Who’s this?” Jim smiled and said, “Special Agent John Swenson, I’d like to introduce you to the next dead man walking, Captain Brian Boyd.”

  Boyd looked at John and asked, “You saw Detective Salazar die?” “Yes. We were staking her out.” “You were staking her out, and she’s dead. You didn’t see this coming? You didn’t see the killer?” John shook his head. “How the hell do you three plan to protect me and or my family from this killer if you couldn’t protect Salazar?” Jim laughed and said, “It was a car bomb, Brian. We don’t know anything about it yet — if it was hard-wired or remote detonated. We don’t know if the killer was on scene when she died, or if he is a hundred or thousand miles away.” There were a few tense moments, and Steve said, “We can’t guarantee your safety or the safety of your family, Brian. All we can do is our best to catch this killer before the killer gets you.” “That’s not very goddamn comforting, Steve,” Boyd said with his hands at his side. “It wasn’t meant to be. It’s the truth.” Boyd was looking down at the ground and asked, “So what now?”

  Jim said, “Go back to your office, Brian. I will put a deputy on you, and we will put another out at your home.” Brian was walking back to his car when John called him back. “I almost forgot to ask, and since you’re the only one alive to this point, do you have any idea who wants you dead or why?” Boyd’s expression changed dramatically. “Hell no…do you think if I had any idea who wanted me or any of my fellow officers dead I would hold that back?” John looked at him with a look of confusion and then said, “I think that all depends on how deep you are into this situation. I think it is a matter of will you go to prison if you reveal who you think or know is killing your fellow police officers. Perhaps you want to hedge your bet, thinking that we can kill the bad guy before the secret is revealed. Now I’m a federal agent and a well trained one at that. Jim here is a twenty plus year veteran, and Steve has forgotten more about police work than I know. I’m not a gambling man, Captain, and I certainly wouldn’t gamble my life or the life of my family on us getting to the killer before the killer gets to you. So, if you do know something about this, and I think you do, you better speak now, or most likely you will end up forever holding your peace. We can protect you a hell of a lot better if we know what and who we are dealing with.”

  “I told you. If I knew, I would tell you. I don’t know anything.” Steve looked at Boyd as Jim said, “You’re lying. I’ve known you too many years, but, hey…it’s your life and the life of your family, so you head back to your office, and we will do as we have said to protect you.” Boyd went to say something but stopped and walked away. Steve looked at Jim and John and said, “He knows way more than he will ever tell. I don’t think we can save him.” John nodded as did Jim who added, “Fuck him. When he gets killed, it will be his own damn fault.” Jim pulled his phone from his hip and took a cigarette from his top left pocket and walked off while ordering deputies to protect Boyd. Steve looked up at John and asked, “Can the Eagle stop this?” John shrugged and said, “I don’t know.”

  Boyd got back in his cruiser and went back to his office. When he pulled into the lot, there was a sheriff’s car, and he walked into the front office. Two deputies were waiting for him. They introduced themselves and gave him instructions on how he was to behave while under their protection. Brian invited them back to his office and said, “Well, Jim doesn’t waste any time, does he?” Both deputies looked at him and said, “We are part of the sheriff’s SWAT team. We are well trained, and we are going to do our best to protect you. You have to do your part by following our instructions.” Boyd nodded as they told him what to do.

  Jim, Steve, and John grabbed Jade and talked to her about Salazar’s body. It was pushing eleven a.m. and nothing had been done with it. Steve was asking when she would remove it, and Jade was short with them. “Look, the chick in the car is cooked. I’ll do an autopsy on the remains when I get the chance. Right now I have multiple murder victims in this damn bar, and I’m trying to bag and tag them, so I can get them to my office. You three are obsessed with one dead cop. Have you not taken notice that there are at least a half dozen dead men in here?” John nodded and apologized and said, “I know what’s in there, Jade, but that scene is not directly related to the case that we are working on. You have to work with LAPD on the bar case while we work on the killer, or killers, of LAPD officers.” She just walked back into the bar without saying a word. John called for his CSI team and ordered them to work the car and to take Salazar’s body to the coroner’s office as soon as they cleared the scene. Steve looked at John and said, “Don’t you have some work to do on this case offsite?” John nodded and left the scene.

  Jim looked at Steve and said, “I have my best men on Boyd, but I have a feeling he’s already a dead man.” Steve
nodded as Jim asked, “Hey, didn’t you two arrest a cop yesterday at the Washington crime scene?” “Fuck, shit,” Steve said, “I need to get those charges dismissed and get someone on that fucker.” “You think he’s dirty?” Jim asked. “Oh yea…he’s in this whole thing up to his fuckin’ ears.” Steve called one of his agents over and ordered him to take him downtown to the federal courthouse. Jim cleared the scene with his office and headed for Boyd’s. He wanted to talk to him some more about what he was certain he knew about this case.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Oh shit…every time I

  see you hell follows.”

  Chris Alton had no idea that Pat was dead until she reached the office at West Valley. She reacted coldly, and her fellow officers didn’t understand. One of the female officers that had been with her at Pete’s the night before looked at the indifference on Chris’s face and asked, “Are you okay? Did you hear what we just told you?” Chris looked at them and said, “I heard what you said. Is there anything I can do to change the fact that she’s dead?” The reactions to her response were varied. “She was on the LAPD death list. Did you know that?” Harris Bailey asked her. “No, I didn’t know that, but again I can’t change it, and I’m not on the list.” Chris walked off down the hall to her office. She poured a cup of coffee and sat down in her chair. She leaned back against the chair and felt the sting of Patricia’s cigarette burns. She smiled with a sense of pleasure from both the pain of the burns and the fact that Patricia was dead.

  A gas company truck was parked at the corner of Topanga Canyon Boulevard and Viewridge Road near the intersection of Hodler Drive. Dale Hart had received a service order for a home in the eleven hundred block of Hodler and had an order to investigate a possible gas leak at an unknown location on the street. Several residents had reported the odor, and Hart walked the street with some instruments in his hand to detect the gas. He had his head in the air and was sniffing as he walked. A young woman came out of one of the houses and asked if he was there about the gas smell. He told her yes, and she pointed to the middle of the street and told him that the odor was the strongest there. He walked in the direction that she had pointed, and the woman walked back into the house.

  She had no sooner made it into the front foyer of the house when the phone rang. She rushed to catch it before it went to voicemail but missed the call. She looked at the caller ID and saw it was her father, Brian Boyd. She took the cordless phone off its stand and walked back out into the backyard where she had been sunbathing. She had a summer wrap around her bikini and dropped it and took off her top and bottoms. She lay nude on a chaise lounge chair and called her father back. “Hi Daddy. I’m sorry I missed your call. I was out talking to the gas man. He’s out looking for the source of the gas smell we’ve had in the neighborhood the past few days. What’s up?”

  Kristine Boyd had just graduated from high school and had taken a job in the village on Topanga at one of the shops before she started her freshman year at Pepperdine University. She had a bubbly personality and was a bit overweight for her height. She was also well endowed, voluptuous, and athletic. She was laying with the phone to her ear, her long black hair hanging off the chair as not to create a tan line anywhere on her soft, young skin. Her brown eyes were covered by a pair of oversized sunglasses, the kind celebrities wore, and she kicked a leg up in the air, and its muscular flex glistened with suntan lotion.

  “Kristine, where are your mother and brother?” Brian asked. “Um…I’m not sure. Mom yelled to me at about nine that she and Alan had some appointments, and that they would be gone most of the day.” “Well, I have been trying to get your mother on the phone for an hour, and she’s not answering her cell. I called Alan’s phone, and he isn’t answering either. And you and I know exactly what they’re doing.” Kristine stretched her tan body on the lounge and said, “Oh, Daddy, don’t be gross. I know what you’re thinking. They may not be related by blood, but the thought of the two of them getting sweaty together is just disgusting. You’ve accused Mom of that for years. I don’t see it, and I don’t keep track of what she does. You know that, and Alan is only out for three weeks to visit. He’s your stepson. Didn’t you talk to Mom last night? Didn’t she tell you what they were doing today?” “No…and I need to talk to them and you.” “Okay, well, you have me, Dad. What’s up?”

  “There are going to be two sheriff’s deputies showing up at the house any time.” She sat up and asked, “Why on earth would the sheriff be coming here?” “Just listen to me. They are there to watch out for you and your mother and stepbrother. When they get there, do whatever they tell you to do. Understand me?” “Yes, Daddy. I understand.” She heard the doorbell while she was still talking. “Daddy, there’s someone at the door.” “Answer it but keep me on the line with you.” Kristine walked through the house and looked through the peep hole and saw two sheriff’s deputies standing at the front door. “It’s the sheriff.” “Well don’t just stand there, open the door.” “Hold on, Dad. I was sunbathing, and I’m naked.”

  She grabbed a beach towel off the back of a chair in the dining room and opened the door. The deputies both introduced themselves, and she handed the phone to them at her father’s request. She heard parts of the conversation as she looked at the two deputies who were both really, really cute. They handed her back the phone, and Brian told her to listen to what they told her, and he would see her later. She hung up the line, and one deputy stood guard at the front door while the second followed Kristine to the back yard where she proceeded to drop her towel and walk back to her chair. She said to the deputy who was standing near the gate to the back yard, “It’s okay to look and even touch if you like. I’m eighteen.” The deputy just shook his head, his mirrored sunglasses covering his eyes. He stood at attention near the gate as she lay down. She put her ear buds in and pressed play on her iPod as a song from Three Doors Down started playing.

  Dale Hart was still trying to trace the odor of gas when he saw the sheriff’s car pull up in front of the house. He watched as two deputies got out of the car and then disappeared into the house. He walked back to his truck and grabbed a steel manhole cover hook and walked back to the middle of the street. The steel hook looked a lot like a jack handle, but it was covered in a thick, black rubber, so it wouldn’t create sparks when he slammed it into the cover to open the hole in the street. He was just about to climb down the ladder into the tunnel when he saw a man in a gas company uniform standing across the street from him.

  Dale waved, and the man waved back. He stood up and walked over between the houses to greet his fellow worker. As he approached, the man walked back behind the house and a large bunch of bushes. Dale called out, “If you’re looking for the gas meter, it’s on the other side of the house.” “Yea…thanks,” the man’s called out, “are they all on the same side?” Hart approached the bushes while saying, “They are all on the same side on this side of the street and opposite on the other side. Are you here for the leak? Because I was dispatched to deal with that.” Those were the last words that Hart would say as a pair of hands reached out and grabbed him, dragging his small frame into the bushes.

  There were murmurs and gurgling sounds as blood splattered onto the branches of the bushes. Dale Hart had been disemboweled. His eyes were open in a dead stare as his intestines were squirming on the ground and around his gut. Hart’s pupils were still pinpoints, and as they slowly dilated, his killer looked on at him and said, “It’s a bitch, ain’t it? Sorry about that, but I have a mission to complete. You have a great death.” With that, the killer emerged from the bushes with all of Hart’s equipment as well as his ID and the keys to his truck.

  He walked across the street to the open manhole and lowered himself down. The hole wasn’t a part of the local sewer system. The neighborhood was a newer development, and this was a smaller line set up for utilities, gas, water, electric, cable, and telephone. He pulled the panel for the gas lines open, and the line
s were marked by address. He identified Boyd’s address and then shut down all of the lines to the other homes. He made a few modifications to the gas feeds and routed them to Boyd’s home. The development of homes was new enough that he knew all of the gas appliances were pilotless, and that the houses were all electric except for the kitchen stove, pool heater, and barbeque, so the pressure would simply build in the lines. He wiped the sweat from his brow as he finished and said, “There. That will build up enough pressure in that fucker’s house to blow him sky high.” He climbed out of the manhole, put the cover back on it, and walked back up the street.

  The deputy who was on duty in front of the home saw him walking and waved him down. The killer knew not to run or do anything suspicious. He had a pair of dark sunglass on with the gas company uniform. He also had two Glock nine millimeter handguns in back holsters on his right and left back sides of his untucked shirt. He approached the deputy who was also wearing sunglasses, and they met in the middle of the concrete walk that led to the Boyd home. The deputy had seen the gas company truck when he and his partner pulled in and asked, “Are you reading meters?” “No, no. There was a report of a gas leak out here, and I was sent out to check it out.” The deputy was staring at him very carefully. “Did you find a leak?” “Yea. I just had to make a few adjustments and route a line or two. The gas is off to the neighborhood until I can call it in to run a line check for my fixes. The valves are automatic, so, once cleared, we can reopen them remotely. You look like a lawman on guard.”