by Carolina Mac
“Maybe he needed to cross farther west,” said Hilder, “for some reason.”
“Maybe,” said Blaine, not sounding convinced. “Usually they take the closest exit when they’re rabbiting, but lots of times the assholes are plain stupid. They go home and wait to get arrested.”
“Do we have somebody on McLaughlin’s residence?” asked Fletcher.
“Yep. You and Peyton. Let Longview PD know you’re on it when you get there. They’ve been patrolling for me.”
Fletcher grinned. Peyton didn’t look so happy.
Medical Building. Downtown Austin.
JESSE had hurried, cleaning up after chores, packing a bag for Charity and dropping her off at his brother Paul’s house, but despite his efforts he was late for his weekly appointment with Doctor Wagner. He wasn’t looking forward to coming face to face with her after their breakup even though it had been amicable and none of his doing.
He sat down in the waiting area outside her office and reached for a magazine but didn’t have time to pick it up before Jan’s receptionist called his name.
“Mr. Quantrall.” He stood up and followed Kathy down the short hallway. She opened the door and showed him in.
Jan beamed a smile from behind her desk and she glowed with a radiance Jesse hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it was the new relationship. Shit, he didn’t want to think about it.
“Good morning, Jesse. You look well. How have you been feeling?”
She sounds like she’s talking to a stranger.
“I’m fine, Jan. And you? You look especially happy.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Honestly, I thought about not coming this morning. I was worried things were going to be weird between us,” said Jesse. “I considered cancelling my appointment.”
Jan shook her head. “Please don’t do that. You’ve made so much progress.”
“Let’s see how it goes, I told myself,” said Jesse, “but now that I’m here I’m having trouble coping. I thought we had a relationship and now I’m convinced it was totally one-sided.” Jesse stood up and paced. “I feel like a goddam idiot, Jan, and I don’t think I can continue coming here.”
“Sit down for a minute and calm yourself.”
Jan took his blood pressure and shook her head. “You might be right, Jesse, and the last thing I want is for you to suffer a setback. Why don’t I see if I can set up an appointment with a colleague for next week?”
Jesse blew out a breath and tried to slow his heart rate. “Would you mind doing that?”
“Not at all. It’s probably for the best.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
STILL UPSET from his encounter with Doctor Wagner, Jesse tried to calm down in the Chief’s office. He sipped his coffee and brought Calhoun up to speed on the Selecky case.
“Do you think the wife engineered the whole thing?” asked the Chief.
“Hard to say if it was her idea or if McLaughlin heard about the possible score and got to know her on purpose.”
“Yeah, that could’ve happened too. He stalked her and met her by accident—on purpose.”
Jesse checked his Rolex. “I’ve got to interview a lot more of those George Street boys that are lounging downstairs. I better get started.”
“I think I’ve got a list of them here somewhere,” the Chief shuffled through a pile of papers on his desk. “Here it is. Eleven down there that haven’t been interviewed.” He passed the list to Jesse.
“Jeeze, I might be here all week.”
The Chief picked up the phone. “Give me the first name and I’ll have him brought up for you.”
“Let’s start with Tomas Sanchez. He’s at the top of the list.”
Jesse picked up his coffee and sauntered down the hall to room number three and waited until Tomas arrived. The deputy on cell duty secured Tomas to the desk and gave Jesse a little salute as he left the room.
“Thanks, Fergie.”
Tomas was a solidly built Latino kid with medium length black hair and dark eyes. His jaw was set, and Jesse read him as a challenge.
“I ain’t answering no questions, so don’t even ask me.”
Jesse had already turned on the recorder and set up the interview. “Nothing at all you want to tell me? That’s too bad. I thought you looked a lot smarter than that.”
“I am smart, cop. A lot smarter than you.”
Jesse grinned. “Then why am I sitting here drinking a coffee and you’re chained to the table?”
His dark eyes flashed hatred and he jerked his right wrist against the cuffs. “Shut up. Y’all are gonna be sorry you messed with us.”
“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”
“You messed in our business and the boss ain’t happy.”
Jesse prodded him. “The boss is sitting in a cell in Travis County lockup waiting for his trial. What’s he gonna do about it?”
“Y’all will see soon enough.” He smiled, and he was a good-looking kid. “Payback is a bitch, ain’t it?”
“Sure is, Tomas.”
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
WITH THE CREW on the streets taking care of their assignments, Blaine settled in his office with his third coffee and tried to find anything he could on Matthias Rush, the so-called male witch who tried to kill Misty.
Information was sketchy and precious little was based on fact. Most of Rush’s claim to fame were stories and rumors—folklore about the man. According to his birth records he was fifty-four years old. Born deep in the bayou and raised by his mama who sewed voodoo dolls for a living, he was reportedly able to do powerful magic. Blaine dug up one story of particular interest where Matthias and Misty’s father had physically fought in a park in Houma trying to kill each other.
After reading that story, Blaine wondered how Mr. LeJeune had actually died, and he called Mrs. LeJeune.
“Good morning, Blaine. I was going to call you to say, Misty’s vital signs have improved. The doctor was pleased this morning with her progress.”
Blaine blew out a breath. “That’s the best news. I can barely stand being away from her, but I’m working on finding Matthias Rush.”
“Oh, you’ll never find him, Blaine. He can make himself invisible.”
I don’t believe that.
“Uh huh. Could I ask a question without upsetting you?”
“Of course. I don’t get upset easily. Go ahead and ask me.”
“How did your husband die? Misty never told me the details or the cause.”
“He was poisoned, and I maintained to the police that Matthias did it, but the detectives on the case never found any evidence that Matthias Rush was ever in our house.”
“Mr. LeJeune died in the house on Saint Gillian?”
“Yes, he did, and that’s why Misty thinks he’s still there.”
“If he’s still there,” asked Blaine, “or his presence is still there, why didn’t he help Misty?”
“I wondered that myself. I’ll be speaking with friends this afternoon and I may have an answer later. I’ll call you.”
Blaine hung up thinking he’d completely lost it. “I need facts. Not something I can’t touch or see.” He emailed New Orleans Homicide and asked for a copy of the investigation into Mr. LeJeune’s death.
Let’s see if Rush has a vehicle or a DL.
“Yep, he’s driving an old Ford clunker, ten years old.” Blaine called DPS and put a BOLO out on the truck. “Let’s see where this invisible fucker is right now.”
He wandered to the kitchen to refill his mug and to tell Carm that Misty was improving, and the dogs ran by him heading for the front door. Happy barking so they knew the visitor.
Jesse stepped into the foyer and tossed his hat on the side table. “Hey, Blacky, got a coffee for me?”
“Sure do. Come on in the kitchen. I think Carm is baking something too. She usually is.”
Jesse sat down, and Blaine poured him a coffee. “I interviewed a couple more of the George Street kids and didn’t get a heck of
a lot from them, but one thing that Tomas Sanchez said, I didn’t like much.”
“What was that?”
“They’re planning some kind of payback.”
“Aw, shit,” said Blaine. “Andreas is driving the truck from inside the slam.”
“He didn’t give any hints on what they were planning, but I want you to be careful all the same.”
“Sure, I usually have somebody watching my back.”
“Where is everybody?” asked Jesse.
“Working,” said Blaine. “I like to keep them busy. Farrell is at the lab picking up results, but he’ll be back any time. I’ll wait for him before I show myself in public.”
“Please do,” said Jesse. “If the gang is planning something they’ll aim for the top,” he pointed, “and that’s you.”
Saint Michael’s Hospital. Austin.
BLAINE worked another half hour on his Matthias Rush research and Farrell still hadn’t returned from the lab.
Maybe Sue locked him in.
No one else had come back from their morning assignments and Blaine grew tired of waiting. He had to visit Jack Prima and Gene Wyman in the hospital and get updates on both of them. All his phone calls were getting the same responses.
‘Good as could be expected and resting comfortably.’
He need to talk to both their doctors and find out the facts.
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
FARRELL poked his head into the Chief’s office to say goodbye before he left the building. With copies of several lab reports in his hand and a couple from ballistics, he was on his way.
The Chief looked up from his computer screen and said, “Good, you’re here. I wanted to see you before you left. Did Jesse tell you about his interview with one of the George Street gang members?”
“Nope. Guess I was downstairs when he left.”
“The little shits are planning some kind of retaliation. Blacky engineered the sweep and the takedown of their club,” said the Chief, “so it will probably be aimed at him.”
“Does Blacky know?”
“Jesse was on his way to tell him in person when he left here.”
“I’ll watch his back,” said Farrell, “My arm is almost healed.”
Farrell jumped into his truck and tried Blacky’s cell. “Hey, where are you?”
“I’m at Saint Michael’s tracking down doctors. I want to know about Jack and Cat wants to know if she can visit Gene Wyman.”
“Stay inside until I get there.”
“Why? Do you think the punks will make good on their threat?”
“Uh huh. Yeah, I do.”
“I doubt if they’d try anything in broad daylight in a busy hospital parking lot.”
“All the same,” said Farrell. “Wait for me.”
“I’ll be in the lobby having a coffee when I’m finished.”
Saint Michael’s Hospital. Austin.
BLAINE grabbed a seat at one of the tiny round tables in the coffee shop off the lobby and checked his cell for messages. He’d had his phone turned off when he was upstairs talking to the doctors.
Beaumont PD. He played back the message. A highway patrol officer had a visual on the BOLO, but he couldn’t give chase at the time. Eleven o’clock in Beaumont.
Matthias is headed our way.
Blaine called Rick at Misty’s house.
“Hey, boss. Got something?”
“The tag was spotted by an officer in Beaumont on I-10. Matthias has crossed into Texas.”
“What time was the sighting, boss?” asked Rick.
“About eleven.”
“Okay, then, thanks for the heads up. Andy and I are on full alert.”
Farrell arrived twenty minutes later and found Blaine in the coffee shop. “Where’s your truck?”
“Parking lot.”
“No good. Give me the keys and I’m gonna get it and drive it home. You take my truck.”
“Jeeze,” said Blaine, “The last thing I want is those assholes shooting at you. You don’t need to babysit me. I can take care of myself.”
Farrell smirked. “Negative. Somebody’s got to take care of you.”
“You can get my truck and bring it to the loop, but that’s it. I’m driving it home. I won’t let you be a target.” Blaine handed over his keys and followed Farrell to the front doors.
FARRELL took off running from the front doors and booked it to the parking lot. He was sure the punks gunning for Blacky would be terrible shots, and unless they had an automatic weapon or a rifle with a scope, they had little or no chance of hitting him.
He reached visitor’s parking and did a three sixty checking tall trees and any overlooks. He saw nothing, then as he pressed the fob to unlock the big diesel he saw a glint of sun on metal.
Rifle.
His reaction was instant as he zeroed in on the top of the kid’s head peeking over the safety wall on the roof of the building next to the parking lot.
Farrell drew his SW and fired one shot, then he ran back to the hospital entrance for Blacky.
“What? Change your mind?”
Out of breath, Farrell huffed out the words. “Building next door. On the roof.”
“Let’s go. I’m right behind you.”
Farrell led the way to the back of the building and pointed. “There. An access ladder.”
“Yeah, we climb that ladder and we’re both dead meat if they’re still up there,” said Blaine, “Let’s see if there’s roof access from the inside.”
The two-storey brick building housed doctor’s offices in conjunction with the hospital. Mostly specialists and surgeons, so said the red-headed receptionist.
Blaine showed his creds and said, “We need to get up to the roof. Is there access from inside?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
“Can we look?” asked Farrell. “It would be on the second floor.”
“I guess if you guys are cops it would be all right.”
“Thanks, Miss,” said Blaine. They took off running, didn’t wait for the elevator and used the stairs.
“Other end of the hall,” hollered Farrell as he spotted something. He jerked open a door and nodded. Narrow stairs with handrails, almost ladder-like in their steepness. He raced to the top and opened the door a crack. Blacky was right behind him on the ladder and couldn’t come any higher until Farrell went through the door.
“See anything?”
“Nope.”
“They could be waiting,” said Blaine. “Don’t take any chances.”
With his SW in his hand, Farrell opened the door wide, blasted through and rolled. Nothing. He laid on his belly and aimed his gun around in a quick arc. Still nothing. He was facing the opposite way from where the shooter had been.
A large aircon unit monopolized the center of the roof and Farrell ducked behind it while he cleared the rest of the roof. He worked his way around slowly, expecting the shooter to spot him and fire a round, but there was no sound.
He rounded the last corner of the AC unit and that’s when he saw the kid. Lying close to the safety wall, the rifle beside him. No others around. Maybe they’d run off or maybe the shooter was alone. Unlikely. A gang was a gang.
Farrell went back to holler clear, and Blacky was already running his way. “Do you have to do that? Take chances when I tell you not to?”
“Sorry. I didn’t hear anything, so I thought it was clear.”
“I clipped the top of his head,” said Farrell. “He’s dead. I called it in.”
Roof of Saint Michael’s Medical Building.
“THEY TRIED for me, Chief, in the hospital parking lot. Farrell clipped the kid and if there were more with him, they’re long gone.”
“I already called Travis County and had Andreas moved into solitary,” said the Chief. “Obviously not soon enough if he’s getting the word out. I’ll send Rocky and a couple more squads to pick up everybody showing their faces on George Street.”
“I’ll have Travis and Carlos
join in,” said Blaine. “Calling them now.”
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
TRAVIS, Carlos and Luke were finishing up their weekly target practice and coaching session with Annie when the boss called.
“Yeah, boss.” Travis grabbed his cell and set the rag and the Hoppes down. “What’s up?”
“The George Street punks are pissed, and they tried for me an hour ago. Calhoun is sending a couple squads to clean up the street.”
“Yep, we’re on our way,” said Travis. “You okay?”
“I wasn’t even in range. I was still in the hospital. Farrell spotted the kid and capped him.”
“Fuck,” said Travis. “So… you’re stuck there? Wherever that is.”
“Roof of the building next to Saint Mike’s.”
“Gotcha. We’re out of here.”
“You guys have to go?” asked Annie.
“Boss needs us on George Street right now.”
“Better bust it then,” said Annie. “Grab your guns and leave everything else. I’ll take care of it.”
George Street. Austin.
TRAVIS drove up seventy-one into the city, smoking a Marlborough light, windows down, radio blasting southern rock.
Carlos hollered questions at him over the music. “The little banditos tried for the boss?”
“Farrell only saw the one he capped, but there could have been more with the wannabe sniper.”
“Probably was,” said Carlos. “Gangers never do anything alone.”
“Andreas must be getting the orders out to his crew somehow,” said Luke from the back seat.
“Most gangs have a network inside and out,” said Carlos. “Girlfriends or family help them out too.”
They arrived, and George Street was buzzing with activity.
“The squads are already here,” said Luke.
Travis drove by the parked vehicles, went straight to the dead end and parked in front of the clubhouse. “Do they think they’re safe in there?”
“Maybe,” said Carlos, “if they’ve got AK’s or some stolen shit like that. They might be feeling bulletproof.”