Perdido County- Dark Road

by Larry Darter

  After the coffee was working Wolfe looked out into the living room. Frazer had been right. He’d only been back home a few weeks, yet the living room was littered with empty Lone Star beer cans and empty liquor bottles.

  Wolfe took a cup of coffee outside to the porch and sat down on an old weathered wood rocker. He looked out over the semi-arid, rough broken country. He had grown up here in West Texas, a land of long scorching summers, little rain, nearly ceaseless winds, and usually cloudless skies. As Wolfe drank the hot, bitter coffee, with reluctance he resigned himself to driving into town to meet Frazer at the courthouse. He was already having regrets about letting Frazer talk him into taking the sheriff job. But, he had given his word, and he still had his pride left.

  The house needed a lot of work, much more than he had imagined when he got the idea to move back to Perdido County after quitting his job in Dallas. No one had lived in the house since his dad had passed almost ten years before. Wolfe was handy with tools. He intended to fix the place up. He didn’t have the energy. He had managed nothing more than putting up the makeshift shower stall.

  After Wolfe finished a second cup of coffee, he went back into the kitchen. He shut off the drip coffee maker and put his cup in the rusted, stained sink. On the way out he grabbed the weathered Stetson off the hook beside the front door and pulled it on. He jumped off the porch to avoid the rotted steps that had already nearly cost him a broken ankle. Then he got in his Ford pickup and drove out of the yard onto the dirt farm to market road that led into town.

  When Wolfe arrived on Sixth Street, he saw that downtown Kimble, the Perdido county seat, had changed little during the past seventeen years since he’d graduated from Kimble High School and left for the U.S. Army. All the same old businesses lined the street. He turned onto Cedar Street and after a block drove into the lot in front of the Perdido County Sheriff’s Department, an ancient two-story tan brick building. He got out of the truck, walked over to the courthouse, and went inside. Frazer was waiting for him in the lobby.

  “Is that Joe’s old shirt?” Frazer said with a grin.

  “Yeah, figured I should look official going before the judge,” Wolfe said.

  The men saw the district judge, a kindly older man who reminded Wolfe a little of Spencer Tracy in Inherit the Wind.

  Wolfe raised his right hand and recited the oath of office as the judge read it.

  “I, Owen Wolfe, do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the duties of deputy sheriff of Perdido County, Texas, and will to the best of my ability preserve, protect and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States, and of this State. So help me God.”

  After Wolfe had taken the oath, he and Frazer left the courthouse and walked next door to the sheriff’s office. As soon as they entered the lobby the tall, thin woman wearing a flowery dress sitting behind the desk called out to Frazer.

  “Bud, we got a report of a body found out on the CM Ranch,” she said.

  “What happened?” Frazer said.

  “The ranch hand who called it in said someone had shot the deceased,” the woman said. “Hunting accident maybe. Olivia is on the way out there now.”

  “Okay,” Frazer said. “Judy, this is Deputy Owen Wolfe. Owen meet Judy. She is the one who really runs the place around here.”

  The woman laughed. “And don’t let anyone tell you differently,” she said. “Pleased to meet you. Are you Joe’s boy?”

  “Yes ma’am, that would be me,” Wolfe said.

  “How nice,” Judy said. “I went to school with your daddy.”

  “Owen is going to be taking over for me while I’m on medical leave,” Frazer said.

  “Well, if he is anything like Joe, we’ll be in good hands,” Judy said smiling.

  “Owen, you remember how to get to the CM?” Frazer said.

  “As long as they haven’t moved it,” Wolfe said.

  Frazer snorted. “No, it’s still in the same place,” he said. “Tell you what. Introductions can wait. Good a time as any to get your feet wet. Why don’t you head down there and give Olivia a hand?”

  Wolfe nodded.

  “Judy, whereabouts did they say the body was?” Frazer said.

  “Off Ranch Road X, down by the border fence,” Judy said.

  Frazer reached into his pocket and produced a vehicle key. He offered it to Wolfe. “Take my Tahoe,” he said. “It’s parked out front, full of gas. It’s yours now, anyway.”

  Wolfe nodded and accepted the key. He went out and got in the white Chevrolet Tahoe with “Perdido County Sheriff” graphics on the side in gold lettering.

  An hour later, Wolfe turned off the highway onto Ranch Road X, and the Tahoe bumped across the first cattle guard. It was impossible to drive across West Texas without imagining Comanches on painted ponies and calvary, Longhorn cattle, and chuck wagons. A horse and a man wearing a six-gun with smooth handles moving as one over the panoramic landscape. A hat and kerchief, Winchester rifle, and the creak of saddle leather. After eight miles and many cattle guard crossings, Wolfe pulled up behind another Perdido County Tahoe. There was a white U.S. Border Patrol Ford Explorer with a wide green stripe on the side crossways on the road in front of the Tahoe. A tall, attractive Latina wearing a khaki uniform shirt, denim jeans, and cowboy boots leaned against the front fender of the Tahoe talking with two uniformed border patrol agents.

  The woman turned to look at Wolfe as he approached the group. She had dark shoulder length hair which had a reddish tint to it in the sunshine and a wide mouth with full lips. Wolfe couldn’t see her eyes for the Oakley sunglasses.

  “You must be Wolfe,” the woman said.

  “That would be me,” Wolfe said. “But, you can call me Owen.”

  The woman nodded. “I’m Olivia Alvarez,” she said. “These two are telling me we aren’t needed out here. I’ll let them tell you what’s going on.”

  A broad-shouldered border patrol agent whose stitched name tag identified him as Ruiz stepped forward and offered his hand. Wolfe shook hands with him.

  “I’m Agent Ruiz,” he said. “How’s it going deputy?”

  “Sheriff,” Wolfe said. “Not deputy.”

  Ruiz looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Sheriff?” he said. “I know the Perdido County sheriff. He’s an older dude with white hair.”

  “I’m the new one,” Wolfe said. “Can you move your vehicle so we can pass?”

  “Like I was telling your compadre,” Ruiz said. “The body is on the border easement, on federal property. We’ve already called the FBI. They are on their way from El Paso. Sorry, you drove all the way out here for nothing.”

  “As the chief law enforcement officer of Perdido County, I’ll have a look and satisfy myself who has jurisdiction,” Wolfe said.

  “Sorry, sheriff,” Ruiz said. “The FBI wouldn’t like it if I let you go traipsing all over their crime scene.”

  “I don’t give a damn what the FBI likes or don’t,” Wolfe said. “Move your damn vehicle out of the road or get your supervisor out here right now.”

  The two men stared at each other for several minutes. Then Ruiz shrugged and walked back to his vehicle. He got in and talked into the radio microphone for several minutes. He got out and walked back to Wolfe.

  “We’ll escort you down to make sure you don’t contaminate the scene,” Ruiz said.

  “Let’s get to it then,” Wolfe said.

  Ruiz and the other agent got in their vehicle. Ruiz turned the vehicle around and accelerated down the road in a cloud of dust.

  “That went well,” Alvarez said with a grin. “I think you hurt his feelings.”

  “I do that sometimes,” Wolfe said. “Let’s go.” He turned and walked back to his Tahoe.

  Alvarez and Wolfe followed the border patrol vehicle about a half a mile down the road until the Explorer stopped. Everyone got out of their vehicles. A cowboy next to a buckskin gelding was squatting on the heels of his boots smoking a cigarette. Wolfe and the others walked toward
a body lying on the ground next to the three-strand barbed wire border fence.

  “That’s close enough,” Ruiz said, stopping the group.

  Wolfe surveyed the scene. “You see any blood, Ruiz?” he said.

  “On the body,” Ruiz said.

  Wolfe pointed at the ground. “See that Ruiz?”

  “See what?”

  “The tire prints,” Wolfe said. “The man wasn’t killed here. Someone hauled him down here and dumped him.”

  “So?”

  “So, this isn’t a federal matter,” Wolfe said pointing toward the distance with his left hand. “The victim was killed somewhere up there. In Perdido County. You and your compadre can leave now. Don’t forget to call your friends at the FBI and tell them they aren’t needed.”

  Ruiz started to speak, but Wolfe turned away.

  “Olivia, call Judy at the office,” Wolfe said. “Tell her we need the justice of the peace out here and a transport team to pick up the body.”

  “Okay,” Alvarez said. She turned and walked back to her Tahoe.

  Wolfe went over to the cowboy who was standing now.

  “You find the body?” Wolfe said.

  “Yes sir,” the cowboy said. “I’m Charlie Godwin. I work for the CM. I was checking the fences down here. I saw a flock of buzzards and rode down to see if we’d lost a cow. That’s when I found him.”

  “Know him?”

  “No sir, never seen him before,” Godwin said.

  “You see the tire tracks?”

  “Yes sir,” Godwin said. “I tried to tell them border patrol fellers the man wasn’t shot down here, but they seemed to know everything already.”

  Wolfe turned and watched the border patrol vehicle driving away.

  Turning back to Godwin, Wolfe said, “Tire marks come from further up on your range?”

  “Appears so from here,” Godwin said. “But I haven’t had a chance to follow them. Those federal boys told me to wait here on the FBI.”

  Wolfe nodded. He looked around. He saw no buzzards.

  “Who is your foreman?” he said.

  “Jay Adcock,” Godwin said.

  “The FBI isn’t coming,” Wolfe said. “You can go about your business. If we need anything else, I’ll be in touch.”

  “Suits me,” Godwin said. He picked up the trailing reins and mounted the buckskin. Then he touched his spurs to the horse and rode east at a lope.

  Alvarez was looking down at the body when Wolfe walked up beside her. She looked at him.

  “Think it was a hunting accident?” she said.

  “Not likely,” Wolfe said. “Can’t imagine a reason the shooter would have drug the body down here to confuse the jurisdiction if it had been an accident.”

  “Guess we’ll find out what kind of weapon was used after the autopsy,” Alvarez said.

  “Won’t be any bullet,” Wolfe said. “Someone shot him with a rifle. The bullet would have passed all the way through.”

  “Should we check him for I.D.?”

  “Not supposed to move a body before the J.P. says so,” Wolfe said. “But since he has already been moved all over hell, it won’t hurt anything. Help me turn him over.”

  They both kneeled beside the body and rolled the dead man over on his side. Wolfe could see the edge of a wallet in the hip pocket. He pulled it out. They looked at the dried blood on the man’s back.

  “There’s the exit wound,” Wolfe said. They gently rolled the man back onto his back and stood up.

  Wolfe opened the wallet and found a Texas driver’s license. The victim’s name was Glen Roberts. The license showed an address in Barajas, a small town about twenty miles west of Kimble. He stuck the license in his back pocket and handed the wallet to Alvarez.

  “You can book it into property when we get back to Kimble,” he said.

  Wolfe looked up and followed the flight of a flock of blackbirds.

  “Crows,” Alvarez said.

  “Yeah,” Wolfe said. “Know what they call a flock of crows?”

  Alvarez looked at him. “Um, a flock of crows?” she said.

  “Murder,” Wolfe said. “A murder of crows.”

  “Jesus,” Alvarez said. “Under the circumstances, I guess it’s more apropos.”

  “Stay here with the body and wait on the J.P.,” Wolfe said. “I’m going to follow the tire tracks up there and see if I can find where he was shot.”

  Alvarez nodded.

  “And watch yourself, Alvarez,” Wolfe said. “That guy was shot with a rifle from a long distance. Only two kinds of people shoot from a distance. Cowards and pros. In both cases, they are dangerous people.”

  “Thanks for that,” Alvarez said. “Now I’ll be looking over my shoulder the rest of the day.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Wolfe said over his shoulder walking to his Tahoe.

  With the window rolled down and his head sticking out, Wolfe drove slowly alongside the tire tracks. After about twenty minutes he found what he was looking for. He stopped the vehicle and got out. He surveyed the area. There was a large patch of dirt covered in dried blood. There were vehicle tire prints and also some recent ATV tracks. Given all he had seen that morning, Wolfe assumed the victim had been aboard an ATV, and the vehicle had belonged to the shooter. There was a low talus ridge about a quarter mile west which Wolfe figured was as good a place as any for a sniper position. He guessed the shooter had been waiting for the guy riding the ATV suggesting they knew each other in some manner. The ATV was nowhere to be seen. Wolfe got back in the Tahoe and drove back to the border fence.

  “Find anything?” Alvarez said.

  “Yes, blood and some ATV tracks where the shooting happened,” Wolfe said.

  “ATV there?”

  “No, I expect the shooter moved it somewhere,” Wolfe said. “Call Judy and tell her to send Riggs and Carpenter down here. They can look for it.”

  “You used to work for the Dallas police?” Alvarez said.

  “I did.”

  “What did you do there?”

  “Homicide detective.”

  “So, this is old hat for you.”

  “I’ve seen a few murders before.”

  Wolfe stared down at the body. He looked at a young blonde woman lying on her back on a parking lot. There was a small neat hole in her forehead from which a small trickle of blood traced across her forehead. It was raining. The water washing over the woman’s face had caused her mascara to run, streaking her face.

  “Owen,” Alvarez said. “Owen!”

  “What?”

  “What were you doing? You seemed a million miles away.”

  “Thinking,” Wolfe said. “I do that sometimes.”

  About an hour later the J.P. arrived along with a transport team from a Kimble mortuary. Since Perdido County hadn’t adopted the medical examiner law, the justice of the peace had authority over death investigations. Wolfe brought the J.P. up to speed. The man agreed the death seemed an apparent homicide. He told the transport team to take the body to the medical examiner in El Paso for an autopsy.

  Riggs and Carpenter arrived as the J.P. and mortuary crew were leaving. Wolfe pointed out the tire tracks, described the murder scene, and sent them off to search for the ATV and anything else they could find. Then he and Alvarez got in their vehicles and drove back to the sheriff’s office in Kimble.

  ◆◆◆

  When Wolfe and Carpenter walked into the lobby, Wolfe stopped at Judy’s desk to check for messages. There was a Hispanic woman in her mid-thirties sitting in the waiting area.

  “With everyone tied up on the death investigation, that woman has been waiting for over an hour to talk to someone,” Judy said nodding toward the Hispanic woman. “Her name is Luna Garcia.”

  “Okay, I’ll talk to her,” Wolfe said. He turned to Alvarez and handed her Roberts’ license. “Olivia, check the records and see if you can find anything on the victim,” Wolfe said. “Next of kin information preferably.”

  Alvarez nodded and walked
away.

  Wolfe went over to the Hispanic woman.

  “Ms. Garcia, I’m Sheriff Wolfe,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to wait so long. Come on back to the office and tell me why you’re here.”

  Garcia nodded and stood up. She followed Wolfe down the corridor to Frazer’s office. After they sat down, Wolfe said, “How can I help?”

  “It’s my daughter, Zoe,” she said. “She has been missing for almost two months.”

  “Two months?” Wolfe said. “You’re just reporting it?”

  “Oh no, I reported her missing three days after she ran away,” Garcia said. “But I have new information.”

  “You reported her missing to us?”

  “Yes, I talked to Deputy Carpenter,” Garcia said. “He told me he would put Zoe in the computer as missing. But that was all he could do.”

  Wolfe nodded. “You said you had new information?”

  “Yes, my son heard a rumor that Zoe is staying with an older Latina involved in prostitution, and Zoe is supposedly involved in it too. But, I don’t believe it. My daughter is only fifteen.”

  “Know where they are?”

  “No, I know only what I’ve told you. If I knew where Zoe was, I’d go get her.”

  “Know the name of the girl she is staying with?”

  Garcia shook her head. “I’ve done my best with Zoe as a single mom. But, she is stubborn and headstrong. We had a big fight, and she left. She had been hanging around with some older girls who were nothing but trouble. She would never tell me any of their names.”

  “Okay, Ms. Garcia,” Wolfe said. “I’ll look into it. I’ll do my best to find your daughter.”

  “Thank you, sheriff,” Garcia said.

  “I’ll be in touch when I learn something,” Wolfe said. They both stood up, and Wolfe walked Garcia out to the front doors.

  “Judy, check the records for a missing person report on Zoe Garcia,” Wolfe said. “Carpenter should be listed as the reporting deputy.”