by Carolina Mac
Tyler parked behind Farrell and jumped out of the truck. “Which one is it?”
“Spot sixty-two,” said Farrell. “I want you and Neil to hang back until we have the baby out of there. We’re not taking any chances on Charity getting hurt. More squads are coming in and they’ll be running silent so show them where we are.”
“Okay,” said Tyler.
Farrell took Annie’s arm to slow her down. “Mom, wait until the Chief is at the back door of the rig—if there is a back door—then you knock on the side door.”
ANNIE waited until she got the signal, then she knocked. A guy with long shaggy hair in his late forties opened the door a crack and peered down at her. “What do you want?”
Annie stood on the ground in front of the kidnapper and he was about eighteen inches higher in the camper. She said in her sweetest voice, “I’m in the spot next to y’all and I’m having trouble lighting my stove, could you possibly come and help me with it?”
“No, don’t think so, I’m busy right now.”
“You’re not a very good neighbor.” Annie’s Beretta with the suppressor was in her hand and the guy couldn’t see it in the dark. Swiftly she reached up, pressed it against his leg and pulled the trigger.
Pop.
The guy yelped in pain and Farrell grabbed for him, pulled him off the step and threw him to the ground. Annie covered the guy while he hollered and clutched his bleeding leg.
Farrell was in the trailer with his SW pointed at a shocked Skylar. “Hands on your head. Down on your knees. Do it or you’re dead. I ain’t kidding.”
Skylar dropped to her knees and started crying. “He made me do it. He said…”
“Shut up.” Farrell cuffed her hands behind her back and hollered to Annie. “Get Charity, Mom.”
Annie looked in the two small bedrooms and Charity was sleeping in the smallest room in a portable crib. An open suitcase filled with diapers, clean clothes and toys lay on the bed. When she walked out of the bedroom with the sleepy baby, Chief Calhoun had taken charge of Skylar and was marching her outside to waiting officers and Tyler and Neil were on their way in.
“Here she is, Ty.” Annie handed the baby to him. “You can take her to the truck. Neil can help me carry all her stuff.”
Charity was half asleep, but wide awake enough to say, “Ty, me home.” She clung to Tyler’s neck and laid her curly head against him.
Tears streamed down Tyler’s face as he cuddled Charity close to him. “I love you, baby girl.”
Sirens sounded, and an ambulance came for the guy Annie had shot.
“I’ll need your Beretta, Mrs. Powell,” said Chief Calhoun. “Remarkable job, and surprisingly no one dead.”
Annie giggled. “Surprisingly so.”
Farrell called Blacky.
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
BLAINE admired the artifacts Jesse’s mother had collected and displayed with elegance on the dining room walls. The suits gathered around the long table stared at computer screens, profiled the kidnappers and discussed at length how they would get the child back safely. They had men in the field searching but what good would it do when they had no idea where Charity was?
Blaine’s cell rang, and he grabbed for it. Farrell.
“Got her. Ty’s on the way home with her. I’ll go with the Chief and finish up the paperwork.”
“Annie kill anybody?” Blaine asked in a whisper.
“Leg shot to get him out of the way. Up close and personal. Nice and quiet with a suppressor. A new twist.”
“Jesus, I haven’t seen her do that. Come back when y’all are done.” Blaine got to his feet and explained to the tableful of Special Agents that they had the baby and were awaiting her safe return.
“How did you find her?” Sharping was on his feet and hopping mad. “And why weren’t we told?”
“It was a tip and we thought it was bogus,” said Blaine. “You know how those psychics are always calling in?”
“Oh, yeah,” said Sharping. “But she was right?”
“Chief Calhoun has Heather Bunch—aka—Skylar Alward—in custody if y’all wish to talk to her at DPS.”
“I think that can wait until morning. As long as she’s in custody and the child has been recovered.”
“Let’s all get some sleep,” said Blaine.
After the feds left, he fetched a sleepy Misty from the study and took her home to bed.
North Dallas.
LUKE AND FLETCH sat in the surveillance unit waiting for Doyle Marshall to say something they could use. They’d been in position for hours listening to small talk between Marshall and his wife. Finally, Marshall’s wife went to bed after the eleven o’clock news and Marshall made a phone call.
“Paul, I’m taking a lot of heat for you, and I think you should make it worth my while. Yeah, Blackmore sent her up here to get under my skin. Everybody in the whole fuckin state reads her column. How can I not worry about it? For sure I’m gonna lose clients. If it was your ass hung out to dry, you’d be worried. Yeah, okay. I’ll meet you there at noon.”
“But meet where?” asked Fletcher. “We’re gonna have to follow Marshall in the morning.”
TODD said buenas tardes to the border guard as the man in the booth checked his passport, then looked in his backpack and waved him through. He crossed on foot into Mexico, his backpack weighing heavier with every mile he walked. His legs were tired, he needed sleep and his stomach was growling. His money was gone, and he hadn’t eaten all day. He wondered what Aunt Laura had made for dinner.
CHAPTER NINE
Tuesday, June 2nd.
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
ANNIE WOKE in Tyler’s bed slightly startled when Charity cried out right next to her. Tyler hadn’t been able to relax and get to sleep with the baby in her crib next door. He was so shaken by the kidnapping, he needed to have Charity next to him in order to breathe. Annie had brought the baby in to sleep with them.
Charity opened her eyes and saw Annie right next to her. “Mama,” she said and wrapped her little arms around Annie’s neck.
“Close your eyes and go back to sleep. You’ll wake Ty.”
“It’s okay,” mumbled Tyler. “I’m awake.” He rolled over and gathered Annie and Charity into his arms and hugged them. “I’m waking up with my two best girls in my bed, it’s my best day ever.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
BLAINE dragged his butt down the stairs to the morgue at headquarters. Not enough sleep and his energy level was at rock bottom. He was exhausted from the night before and had a full day ahead of him. Doc Simon would be almost finished the autopsy of Bren Chavez when he arrived, but he’d get the final verdict straight from the pathologist if there was one to be had. If it was the same killer that did Mrs. Millburn, they wouldn’t know squat.
Doctor Simon was dictating as Blaine entered and he waited until the pathologist wrapped up. Mort shook his head. “Almost nothing, just like Mrs. Millburn.”
“Almost?”
“A tiny needle mark on his neck under his hairline,” said Mort. “Can’t tell if it’s new or older. But nothing showed up in his system. Zero. Either neither one was murdered, or they were both done by the same killer. Whatever he’s using is gone before the bodies are found and there’s no trace. None.”
“If it’s fast acting,” said Blaine, “we’ll have to catch him in the act.”
Mort raised a gray eyebrow. “Good luck with that, kid.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna need more than luck.”
BLAINE left the morgue and headed up to the second floor boardroom. Chief Calhoun was chatting with Rory Lumley from the DA’s office, and Max Wellington, Bert Palacha’s attorney when he arrived. “Morning, gentlemen. Sorry I’m late.”
“I thought I was meeting with Ranger Quantrall,” said Max Wellington, giving Blaine the stink-eye. “He said he’d be here.”
“Jesse had a coronary last night,” said the Chief. “Ranger Blackmore is taking his place.”
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Wellington frowned. “Sorry to hear that. I hope it was a mild one. Jesse Quantrall is a fine person.”
“Absolutely,” said the Chief, “one of my best men.” To Blaine: “Anything from the autopsy?”
Blaine shook his head.
“Is my client being brought up from holding?” asked Wellington. He kept checking his phone and seemed to be antsy. Blaine noticed.
The Chief checked his watch. “He should be here any minute.”
And he was. The door opened, and Ranger Ruskin ushered Bert Palacha in and sat him down at the table.
“Okay, we’re all here now,” said Rory Lumley. “Let’s hear what your client has to offer us and then we’ll have a discussion.”
Max Wellington held up a hand to Palacha indicating that he wanted to say something first. “I want probation only for my client. No jail time.”
Rory Lumley was a giant of a man, over six feet four inches tall and thin as a stick. His suits had to be custom tailored with extra-long Orangutan-like arms. He peered over his silver-rimmed glasses at Max Wellington and said again, “After we hear what Mr. Palacha has, we will discuss the terms.”
“Not good enough,” said Wellington. “All my client did was send a letter. He did nothing more.”
Lumley nodded at Blaine for details. “Mrs. Cornish gave Deputy Bristol the file folder where her husband kept the threatening mail he received, and the lab also found a file of emails with basically the same content as the hard copies. In the physical file there are hundreds of letters, not only from Mr. Palacha, but from pro-gunnies all across the state. One of those people made good on their threats because McLean Cornish died on Governor Campbell’s front lawn. So, to say he did nothing more is ludicrous. Bert Palacha is one of the people who helped murder McLean Cornish.”
“Bullshit,” hollered Palacha. “I never did a goddam thing except write a letter like I was told to do.”
“And who told you to write a letter?” asked Mr. Lumley.
“Doyle Marshall told all the members of his gun club to write letters and so we did. If I’m guilty, so are a helluva lot of other people.”
“Letters of protest are one thing,” said the Chief. “Threatening letters are different. They are illegal.”
“What are you offering?” asked Blaine.
“I just told you, Doyle Marshall put us on sending the letters to Cornish. I don’t want to do any jail time.”
“Doyle Marshall is already on my radar with several others,” said Blaine. “I didn’t need you to tell me that.”
“What else do you have to trade, Mr. Palacha?” asked Lumley.
“Nothing right now, but what if I got more?”
Wellington checked his watch. “We’re due at the courthouse in twenty minutes for your arraignment. We better arrange transportation for you.”
Palacha was red in the face as he sneered at Rory Lumley. “So y’all are gonna send me to trial?”
“Looks that way, sir,” said Lumley.
“I gave you Doyle Marshall,” Palacha shouted.
“Ranger Blackmore already has Mr. Marshall on a watch,” said the Chief.
“Sorry, I can’t do anything for your client, Mr. Wellington,” said Lumley. “You better escort him to the courthouse and see what you can do for him there.”
North Dallas.
LUKE AND FLETCHER were back in position on Doyle Marshall’s street in Dallas when the attorney backed his Beemer out of the garage. He left his residence and drove southbound through the city to the ramp for I-35. Fletcher kept the Beemer in sight and lagged a couple of vehicles behind so Marshall wouldn’t spot them.
“Call the boss so he knows we’re coming his way,” said Fletch.
Austin Courthouse.
BLAINE was on his way to the courthouse to Palacha’s arraignment. During the back and forth between Palacha and his attorney, there had been something—he couldn’t put his finger on it—but something was weird.
Was Wellington some kind of watchdog for Marshall and Leggatt? What the hell was it?
Blaine’s cell rang, and it was Luke. “You got him?”
“We’re on him, boss, heading south. He’s meeting Leggatt someplace, but we don’t know where.”
“I’ll be at the courthouse so I’m downtown,” said Blaine. “Keep me in the loop and I’ll catch up.”
“Yep. Forty-five minutes,” said Luke, “and we’ll hit Austin city limits.”
Fayette Memorial Hospital. La Grange.
ANNIE and Tyler drove to Fayette Memorial in La Grange right after breakfast to see how Jesse was doing. They took Charity on Brian’s instructions to assure Jesse that his baby daughter was safe. When they reached the cardiac unit, Jesse was awake but not sitting up. He lay flat with a blanket covering him and he was hooked to more than one monitor.
“Hey, there’s the girl I want to see,” he said and smiled at Charity. His voice came out so weak it was barely audible.
“Daddy, me.”
Tyler sat her on the side of the bed, so Jesse could touch her.
“How did Blacky find her so fast?” asked Jesse. His eyes had welled up at the sight of his daughter.
“Misty used the elephant,” said Ty. “I can’t explain it.”
“Don’t need to,” said Jesse. “She’s back, ain’t she?”
“Skylar and her husband or partner or whoever he is are in jail,” said Annie.
Jesse winked at Annie. “You didn’t shoot them, Ace?”
“Might have shot him in the leg. He was in my way.”
“Attagirl.”
Central Library. Downtown Austin.
LAURA MAY spent most of her day at the library in her office with the door closed. She wondered what it would take to get the overdue book out of the police evidence locker. Was it something she could do alone? Was that book lost to her forever or would the police return it when the investigation was over? All questions she didn’t have answers to.
The most troubling question was ‘where was Todd?’ He must have run away and wasn’t coming back, or she would have heard from him. He wouldn’t answer any of her messages and she’d left a dozen already.
She tried to put Todd out of her mind and move on to more important things. It might be best if she moved on to the next name on the list and hoped the police would return the missing book later. The thought of failure and the empty spot on one of her shelves was almost more than she could bear.
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
FARRELL was assigned to interview Heather Bunch. They needed information about her partner who didn’t seem to be coming up in AFIS even after he was printed. However, Heather was well known in certain circles—mainly fraud and cons. Her sheet listed a couple of different partners from the past, but the guy who was in the RV with Charity was not one of those. Fresh talent.
Farrell set up in interrogation room two and he was ready to rock when Ranger Ruskin brought Miss Bunch into the room and secured her to the table.
“Morning, Miss Bunch. I’m Ranger Donovan and I’m gonna ask you a few questions.”
“I’m not answering anything, so don’t waste your breath.”
“I am gonna waste it, ma’am. Just something I gotta do.”
Heather’s long blonde hair hung in her face and her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from crying. She stared at her hands and wouldn’t look Farrell in the eye.
“Mind telling me the name of your partner, Miss Bunch? The one you said made you kidnap the Quantrall baby.”
“He did make me do it. I swear he did. I didn’t want to, and I begged him not to make me. He held a gun on me and said if I didn’t get the nanny job at Quantrall he’d kill me, and I could count on it.”
“But after you got the job, you moved to the Quantrall ranch and you were free of him. You didn’t have to go back to… wherever. You could have confided in Jesse. After all, Jesse Quantrall is the law—you were living in the same house with a Texas Ranger.”
“That was the scar
y part and another reason I told Frank it was a bad idea. He said if I breathed a word to Jesse, he would kill me.”
“Yeah, and what would that get him? How would he get the baby if he killed you? You ain’t making a lick of sense, girl.”
Heather sniffled a little, then shed a couple of genuine tears. “I’ve never been in trouble with the police before. Do you think they’d let me go if I gave Frank up?”
Farrell smiled. She was such a liar. She had a jacket going back about ten years. “Don’t know, ma’am. Worth a try. Definitely worth a try.”
“Who would help me with that, if I was making a confession?”
“You’ve been read the Miranda, ma’am. You have rights and you can ask for a lawyer. If you can’t afford one, the state will appoint one for you.”
“I better do that. I need to talk to somebody before I do or say anything stupid.”
“Think you already done it, ma’am. Kidnapping a baby belonging to a Texas Ranger wasn’t super smart. One of your lesser ideas, I’d have to say.” Farrell shrugged. “Just say’n.”
Austin Courthouse.
BLAINE sat in the front row behind the prosecution’s table at Bert Palacha’s arraignment. Bert’s wife, the little blonde, was in the row behind the rail, directly behind the defense table. The case was called, and the bailiff brought Palacha into the courtroom. He walked in with Wellington beside him and they both stood behind the defense table. The plea was entered—not guilty—bail was granted and set at fifteen thousand dollars. The judge banged the gavel and called the next case.
Mrs. Palacha joined her husband and his attorney, hugged her husband, and all three skipped off to arrange bail.
Blaine waited in the parking area. He did a three sixty, saw nothing out of place, lit up a smoke and waited. His cell jangled on his belt and it was Luke.
“Hey, boss. We’re in town.”
“Know where the meet is yet?”
“Not yet, but we’re cruising around downtown, and it looks like we’re heading for the Capitol. Couple blocks away and still going in that direction, boss.”