But it wouldn’t be right.
“I’m sorry. But I’m positive. None of these are the man I talked to.”
Castro was crestfallen and Tommy could see it on his face. He felt so bed he walked over to the big man and placed his hand upon his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, sir. I wish I could give you a different answer, but I just can’t. I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, Tommy,” Sondrini said.
“We’ll still catch him. It’ll just take a bit longer. But we’ll get him.”
Lori Tuttle, the boy’s mom, asked, “Where does this leave you now? Should we move away from here?”
Sondrini was puzzled.
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“Well, I’ve been worried about Tommy’s safety. So much so that I haven’t let him outside since this whole thing happened. I see him sitting in the front window all day long, watching the other kids running through the yards and riding their bikes and skateboards.
“He wants so badly to go out and to meet some of them. To make some new friends.
“But all I can think of is there’s a madman out there. A man who knows Tommy’s face, and who knows Tommy knows his.
“I’m so afraid that he’s out there looking for Tommy. And that if Tommy starts going outside again he’ll wander down this street one day and stumble across him. And that he’ll hurt my boy.”
Sondrini was sympathetic to her plight, and to Tommy’s. He hadn’t been aware that Tommy had been held as a virtual prisoner in his own home.
“Do you have any other family in the area, Mrs. Tuttle?”
“Yes. A sister in Plainview.”
Sondrini whistled.
Plainview was seventy miles away. A three day ride in good weather. And since winter was fast approaching good weather was going to be hit and miss in future weeks.
Still, he felt he owed this family something.
“I’ll tell you what, ma’am. You’re right. This whole thing isn’t fair to either of you.
“I’ll make a deal with you. Despite this setback, I think we’re close to getting this guy.
“Give us two weeks. If we haven’t got this guy by then I’ll talk our lieutenant into putting someone else on the case for a few days and I’ll personally escort you to Plainview.
“Do both of you ride?”
“I do. I don’t think Tommy’s ever been on a horse.”
“I have too, mom.”
“The pony ride at the carnival doesn’t count, honey.”
“Oh. Well, I can learn.”
“He certainly can,” Sondrini agreed. “Since horses are the travel means for the foreseeable future it’s something he should know how to do.”
“Will we have to come back for his trial? To testify, I mean.”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Once we take him into custody we can try to match his prints to the evidence we found at the scene. Hopefully he hasn’t disposed of the rifle, and we can run a ballistics test on it to see if it matches the bullet he fired.
“After that it’ll be up to the district attorney. If we can match his prints and ballistics, he may decide he can win the case without Tommy’s testimony.
“Right now absolutely nothing is going to trial. Everything is backing up, so he might not be tried for many months.
“If you do relocate we can have our prepper friend keep you advised of what’s going on.”
“Prepper friend?”
“The Rangers are recruiting volunteers all over the state. Preppers who had the foresight to protect their ham radios from the EMPs. Those who agree to it are helping us get messages around the state.
“One of them happens to live in Plainview. I’m sure we can talk him into paying you a visit occasionally to tell you what’s going on with the case.
“Of course, the best option is to get this guy so we don’t have to relocate you.”
Chapter 40
Medley and Wise, meanwhile, had been scouring south Lubbock for a drug dealer named Shiloh.
At the previous week’s muster they’d shared information with Castro and Sondrini regarding their own investigation.
Medley and Wise liked that their counterparts spent the time and energy to get mug shots of their likely suspects.
Although they had no witness to identify the man who’d shot Ranger Cohen, they thought it might be a great help to pass around a photo of Shiloh.
They found Shiloh’s mug shot at the county detention center. That was easy enough.
The problem was the image was a digital file.
There was no working copy machine anywhere in Texas as far as they knew.
And loaning their only working laptop out for a day was one thing. Loaning it out for weeks at a time while Medley and Wise lugged it from door to door was another matter entirely.
It wasn’t that the sheriff’s office didn’t want to help. But they had their own investigations to work and couldn’t spare the laptop for any length of time.
Wise had another idea.
Beneath Shiloh’s mug shot was his real name: Benjamin Ellard. Below that was all the other pertinent information regarding his case: cause number, charges, date of incarceration, date of release…
…and the name and address of his bail bondsman.
Bondsmen are men and women who put up their own money and reputations to guarantee their clients will show up for their scheduled court appearances.
Most of them do.
But some would rather run instead.
Bondsmen don’t like it when their clients run, and put in a lot of effort to track them down, revoke their bonds, and throw them back into the slammer to rot.
To aid them in their efforts to find such miscreants, most bondsmen keep extensive files on them.
Many of them destroy the files once the client’s case is resolved.
However, many of them assume they’ll reoffend at some point and will become a client again in the future.
Those bondsmen tend to hang on to the records.
According to Benjamin Ellard’s arrest records, his bond was processed by Dean Mayfield of Mayfield Bail Bonds.
Medley and Wise obtained Mayfield’s home address and paid him a visit.
“Sure. I’ve got a mug shot on file for him,” Mayfield said. “It’s a year old, but I don’t imagine he’s changed much.”
“Can you give me the names and addresses of any of his associates?”
“Heck, Ranger. I can do you one better. Unless she’s moved, I can give you the address of his mama’s house.”
Medley and Wise looked at one another and smiled.
It so happened Shiloh’s mother lived smack dab in the middle of the neighborhood where they’d been looking for Shiloh.
They figured there was a good chance they’d find him living there. After all, drug dealers weren’t exactly prosperous and contributing members of society.
If he wasn’t there they hoped she’d be able to tell them exactly where to find him.
At mid morning the following day they encountered a couple sitting on lawn chairs in their front yard, watching their kids make sidewalk masterpieces with colored chalk.
They dismounted and introduced themselves.
“I remember who you are, Ranger. You came by here a few weeks ago to tell us it was okay to take food in limited amounts. We were pretty much starving when you did that. You made it a lot easier on us by telling us we didn’t have to sneak around at night scrounging for food.
“We’re glad we were able to help. We have a favor to ask, if you don’t mind.”
“I’ll help if I can.”
Chapter 41
“We’re looking for a man who may live a couple of blocks from here. A bad man. But we can’t go in on horseback. He’d spot us a mile away and know we were lawmen.
“We’re going in on foot, but we can’t just abandon our horses and hope they’ll still be there when we come back. Would you mind watching them for us for an hour or two?”
“Sure. They both love kids. Are you sure they won’t ride away on them?”
As Ranger Wise said the words he winked at one of the girls, a tiny thing of about seven years.
She put her hands on her hips and said, “No, silly. I’d miss my mommy and daddy.”
Wise laughed. It was nice to know that kids were still kids, even with the harsh new hand nature had dealt them.
“If you don’t mind me saying so, Ranger…” the woman began.
“Yes ma’am?”
“…They’ll still spot you as lawmen, even without the horses.”
“How so, ma’am?”
“Well, you don’t exactly blend in well around here. Not with your big cowboy hats and boots and sports coats.”
Her husband agreed.
“She’s got a point, gentlemen.”
“Would you mind if I dressed you so you fit in better with the rest of the people around here?”
Wise looked to Medley, who just shrugged.
“You’re both about my husband’s size. Come on inside and I’ll see if I can find some clothes to suit you better.”
Medley looked to the man for his opinion.
“Go ahead. I don’t get no say so around here. All I am is her husband.”
The little girl giggled.
The Rangers dutifully followed the woman into the house, and emerged twenty minutes later.
Medley wore a Rolling Stones t-shirt and jeans, a baseball cap upon his head.
Wise wore a bright yellow polo shirt and camouflage pants.
“I’m confused,” the husband said. “Do you want to be seen or to blend in?”
“A little of both, I suppose.” Wise answered. “What do you think?”
“I think you might be confused for a lot of things. But I don’t think anybody’s gonna peg you as lawmen.”
Both men now wore sneakers. They fit Wise perfectly, but were just a bit too big for Medley.
The wife had remedied that by having him wear an extra pair of thick socks.
Wise remarked, “Well, at least if he runs we’re more likely to catch him in these instead of boots.”
Wise picked up the little girl and placed her in his saddle.
“Are you sure you’re not going to ride off to Mexico?”
“No sir. I promise.”
Her little sister came running over, shouting, “Me too! Me too!”
Wise picked her up and placed her on Medley’s horse. Then he turned to reassure their mother.
“Don’t worry. They won’t bolt. They’re well trained and will just stand here, unless you want to lead them back and forth across the yard.”
“Thank you, Ranger. This will be the most fun these girls have had since the power went out.”
It was a sad statement, but probably not exaggerated.
They wandered off down the street, being sure to wave goodbye to the girls from a couple of houses away.
They were still two blocks away from Shiloh’s mother’s house, and were hoping against hope they found her there.
Many people were taking the blackout as an opportunity to better their lot.
On every street, those residents who’d survived the first weeks of the blackout knew full well which houses on their block were abandoned or vacant.
And they knew full well the circumstances surrounding each of the houses as well.
Most blocks had at least one suicide house by now. Some of the unluckier ones had two or three, since more and more people were giving up.
It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, from the survivor’s perspective.
Yes, it was a grizzly process, dragging the suicide victims out of their homes and burying or burning them.
And there was frequently a bloody mess to clean up once the bodies were removed. But the new digs were nice.
The survivors were noticing a rather odd trend, and one which many would never have expected.
It wasn’t the poor or the struggling who were killing themselves off. It was the upper middle class and the relatively well to do.
The Rangers and LPD had noticed the same thing.
A city psychologist who’d come to one of the Ranger musters had tried to explain the strange phenomenon.
“We think it’s because those who’ve always worked hard every week to put food on the table and pay their utility bills are more used to struggle. Things like the blackout and having to forage for food don’t bother them as much.
“The well off, on the other hand, aren’t used to struggling. They’ve always had plenty of money in the bank, and the supermarket shelves were always full.
“Now their money is worthless and the shelves are mostly empty, save the cat litter and cleaning supplies.
“The well-to-do are less equipped to handle it. And much more likely to see suicide as their only option.”
The well-to-do were also more likely to abandon their homes. To strike out and journey to others like them, perhaps in gated communities.
They’d feel safer there.
The practical consequence was that nearly every block now had at least one, maybe more, nice houses which were vacant. Vacant and available to those who’d always lived on limited means in smaller houses, and who'd always envied their wealthier neighbors.
It was possible that Shiloh’s mother was one of those who’d moved up by taking over such a vacant house.
That they’d be unable to find her even if she was right under their noses.
Chapter 42
The gods were favorable to Medley and Wise on that particular day, though. As they tromped down the street dressed as thugs, they noticed a man coming up the sidewalk toward them.
They wouldn’t have to visit Shiloh’s mom’s house after all. Wouldn’t have to wonder whether they’d find him there. Wouldn’t have to wonder if they’d even find her there.
For as they drew closer and closer to the man walking toward them… as the gap between them grew more and more narrow, it became increasingly apparent they’d found their prey.
The man walking toward them was the man whose snarling face was on Benjamin Ellard’s mug shot.
It was Shiloh.
Shiloh looked at the men with a bit of apprehension. They obviously didn’t belong in the neighborhood. He’d never seen either of them before. For a brief moment Shiloh wondered whether he was about to be robbed.
“Yo, dude, what’s up?”
The words came out of Wise’s mouth, and were out of character for him.
At least in his present day assignment. But in the not-too-distant past he’d worked undercover drug cases.
He was channeling his former self in an effort to put Shiloh at ease.
“We’re looking for work. You know where we can find some?”
Work was street slang for methamphetamines.
Shiloh cocked a suspicious eyebrow.
These guys were strangers. And despite their attire they looked more like cops than drug users.
Before the blackout he’d have shrugged and said, “No, man.”
And he’d have kept on walking.
But a lot of things had changed since the blackout. And word had gotten around that Mayor Haislett had given the police new marching orders.
The jail was filling up too fast, the Mayor had decided. And the citizens had to eat, they had to be protected. The police were instructed to ignore crimes like shoplifting and drug dealing, and to focus on those who were an imminent threat to others.
“How much work you looking for?” he asked the strangers.
“An eight.”
An eight, or an eight-ball, was one eighth of an ounce of the illicit drug. Before the blackout it typically sold for a hundred and fifty to two hundred dollars.
In the modern world it sold for a gold watch or two silver chains.
Wise and Medley had neither, but they weren’t deterred.
“I g
ot an eight. You got gold or silver to pay for it?”
Wise nodded his head in the direction they’d come from.
“Not on us, no. But we can go back and get it and meet you in half an hour.”
Shiloh pondered the suggestion. Sales had been a bit slow lately, as some of his customers had left the area or were shot by homeowners trying to protect their jewelry.
A couple of new customers would help his business.
“Sure. I can be back here in half an hour.”
“No offense, my friend. But how do we know you really have the stuff? You might not have any, and might bring back some of your friends in half an hour.”
“I ain’t got no friends. Friends are a liability I don’t need. They’re always wanting stuff, and you gotta watch ‘em like a hawk. That’s why I work alone.”
Wise shook his head, as though convinced.
Shiloh went one step farther. From his pocket he produced a tiny plastic bag, not much bigger than a postage stamp, stuffed to capacity with a crystalline white drug.
Medley immediately grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it around his back. From nowhere a set of handcuffs was produced.
So was a 9mm gun, pointed directly at Shiloh’s face.
“Damn, man! I knew it. I knew you guys was gonna rob me. I should have went the other way.”
Wise’s demeanor changed. He was no longer a doper looking for a fix. He was back to being a hardened cop.
“Guess again, dirt bag. You’re under arrest for distributing a controlled substance. How’d you like to spend the next twelve years in prison, Benjamin?
Shiloh knew, as soon as Wise used his given name, there was something else going on here. He was set up. He was busted.
But wait a minute.
He decided to rebel just a bit.
Not enough to struggle. For he knew things like guns and batons worked even after the blackout.
But rather enough to argue.
“Hold on, man! Didn’t you get the word the mayor told the cops it’s okay to deal dope now? That you guys have more important things to worry about?”
Medley responded.
“Number one, dirt bag, we’re not Lubbock cops. We’re Texas Rangers. Number two, we don’t work for the mayor. If we want to bust you for dealing, we’ll damn sure do it. And number three, we’re not even looking for you. We’re looking for somebody else. And we want him bad enough to let you go if you help us catch him.”
Death Comes Calling (Ranger Book 3) Page 13