Road Kill

by Carolina Mac

  “Not at all. I’m happy for you and Marnie, and I like her. She’s a nice girl and she loves Charity.”

  “She does and she wants a big family. I’m… I just want to be sure before I do anything... permanent. No more mistakes.”

  “I understand.”

  Annie ended the call and went in search of a tissue. When she returned to her phone on the kitchen island, she’d missed a text.

  “You okay, Cher?”

  “No.”

  “Come see moi.”

  Annie grabbed her jacket and left the house.

  Mueller Area. Austin.

  BLAINE and Travis drove to the half-way house to check on the surveillance. Loaded down with provisions from Dunkin Donuts, they stopped first to talk to Luke and Fletcher.

  “We brought coffee and snacks,” said Blaine. “Anything happening?”

  “Nada,” said Luke. “Wish something would happen.”

  “Y’all keeping in contact with the Junkers out back?”

  Fletch nodded. “Nothing happening in the lane except the odd ganger slinging his goods.”

  “Don’t know whether to pull you guys off or not,” said Blaine. “This is our only goddam lead.”

  “What about the new victim?” asked Luke. “Anything there?”

  “My gut tells me it was a club thing made to look like the sniper. Could be wrong.”

  “Gun match?” asked Luke.

  “Farrell and Carlos are at the lab and ballistics is comparing right now. We have to know if a gang war is brewing.”

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  FARRELL AND CARLOS hung around in the forensics lab drinking Starbuck’s coffee with Sue and waiting for the report on the bullet to come back from ballistics.

  “Nice to have company,” said Sue, “and I appreciate the good coffee. Sometimes I’m here in the lab for hours by myself when the other techs are running a scene.”

  Carlos chatted away to Sue and they seemed to like each other. Carlos needed some romance in his life. Maybe he could ask Sue out.

  The door opened and Bill Harvey came in from ballistics with a preliminary report in his hand.

  “What’s your opinion, Bill?” asked Sue.

  “Ninety-nine percent sure it’s not the same gun. It’s a .308 all right but the striations are different. Have to say the bullet was fired from a different rifle.

  Farrell shook his hand. “Blacky was right.”

  Sue giggled. “Like he always is?”

  “Don’t say that out loud, okay?” Farrell scrunched up his face under his big black hat. “I never let him know he’s right. Makes him go way out of control and it ain’t good for him.”

  “I’ll never tell him,” said Sue.

  Before Farrell started his truck he called Blacky. “You were right, bro. Different gun.”

  “Fuck that.”

  “Double fuck,” said Farrell.

  “Tell Calhoun.”

  “You tell him.”

  Wylie Coyote. Austin.

  THE BAR was busy when Farrell and Carlos went in for a late lunch. Quinn’s tables were all full and she was hustling. She didn’t see them for a few minutes and another girl had already brought them a pitcher of draft and taken their food order.

  Quinn stopped at the end of the table a little out of breath. “Becky taking care of y’all okay?”

  “Sure, all good. We just popped in to say hi and check up on you.”

  “Happy to see you.” Her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled. “You too, Carlos. Since you were in the other day, one of my friends has her eye on you if you want to double date with me and Farrell.”

  Carlos glanced around at the busy servers. “Oh yeah, which one?”

  “I’ll point her out and you can say yes or no and if it’s yes, I’ll bring her over and introduce her.”

  Carlos grinned. “That’s a good deal.”

  Quinn was super busy and didn’t get back to them until they were ready to pay their check and leave. She leaned down and whispered to Carlos, “That’s her getting her drink order from the bar.”

  Carlos turned his head and was dazzled by a tall red-head showing off a gorgeous pair of long legs under her short skirt. He nodded his head. “Yep. I’m gonna have to say yes to that. Bring her on over and I’ll meet her.” He looked at Farrell and Farrell nodded.

  “You ain’t brain dead, so you gotta say yes.”

  Quinn spoke to the read-head and they stopped by the table for a minute. “This is Maggie, Carlos, and this guy is my boyfriend, Farrell.”

  Carlos grinned from ear to ear. “Happy to meet you, Maggie. Me and my partner will set something up and take you girls out for dinner.”

  “Here’s my cell number, Carlos. “I’ve gotta go.” She hefted her heavy tray and disappeared down the aisle between the booths.

  “There you go. You’re rocking with a redhead, buddy.”

  “Jesus,” said Carlos. “I’m not ready. I better get a haircut and buy a new pair of jeans.”

  Farrell laughed at him.

  Grady’s Irish Pub. Austin.

  FARRELL and Carlos sat at the bar waiting to see if any of the street team showed up. They could have had their pick of any of the tables or booths but chose the bar for it’s proximity to the door. They’d emptied two pitchers and were thinking of calling it a night when Kamps came in with a curly-headed kid Farrell had never seen before.

  Kamps pointed to a booth well back in the cave-like interior of the run down bar and Farrell picked up the pitcher and his glass and followed.

  “This is Mafia Mario,” said Kamps. “He might have some important news.” Mafia Mario looked about eighteen or less. Thin and bird-like, pasty complexion with a few craters on his face like most meth heads. His Italian mother was no doubt frantic with worry.

  “Important news?” asked Farrell. “How important? Like how many dollars are we talking?”

  “Three B’s,” said Mario, “on the table.”

  Farrell smirked at the kid’s effort to act tough. “Umm… no. Tell me what it’s about first, then we’ll agree on a price.”

  Mario leaned in and whispered. “The blond sniper kid moved from under the porch at the half nuts palace.”

  “And you saw him since he moved?”

  Mario nodded. “Saw him last night.”

  “What time?”

  Mario shrugged. “How do I know what time?” He held up a wrist no bigger than a chicken leg. “Do I have a fuckin Rolex? Night time.”

  “Give me a between,” said Farrell, “like one to three?”

  “Yeah, okay. In there.”

  Rules him out on the bridge. Time of death was around two.

  “Where’s his new home?” asked Carlos.

  “Money first. I ain’t a rookie.”

  Farrell opened his wallet and laid four fifties on the table.

  Mario grabbed for the money and Farrell caught his wrist. “If this ain’t good information I’m taking two of those back. Hear me?”

  Mario jerked his arm away from Farrell keeping his eyes on the money. He nodded. “He’s in that big park by the Colorado. I can show y’all where I last seen him with his sleeping bag.”

  “A lot of acres in that park,” said Carlos. “Which end is he near?”

  “Near the Airport Road end. I seen him under the bridge.”

  “And you’re sure it was the same kid you saw at the half-way house?” asked Farrell.

  “Yep. I’m sure. I’m good with faces. My customers don’t use names, so I have to know their faces. It’s my business.”

  Farrell put two fifties back in his wallet and gave the other two to Mario. “Show me where you saw the kid and I’ll give you the rest of your money.”

  “Don’t try to rip me off, cop.”

  Mafia Mario took a stance in front of Farrell and Farrell grinned. The wind could knock the kid over.

  Farrell gave him a hand sign and shoved him out the door.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

&nbs
p; Wednesday, October 10th.

  City Park on the Colorado River. Austin.

  FARRELL dropped Kamps off downtown close to his favorite alleyway and before Kamps could jump out of the truck Farrell tossed a question at him, “Any talk about who La Realeza are blaming for the hit?”

  “Del Rios is what I heard. Might be just talk.”

  “I owe you. Catch you next time.”

  They drove east through the sleeping city to the park on the Colorado. Traffic was light and Farrell had a tendency to exceed the speed limit.

  “How do you get around the city, Mario? Do you take the bus?” asked Carlos.

  “Yep, I ride the bus. Cheap and fast. I know all the routes by heart, and I can go anywhere I want.”

  “Uh huh. This park seems like a long way to go to make a sale.” Carlos pushed him.

  I wondered that too. Why was he way over there?

  Mario used his arrogant tone on Carlos. “Got regulars all over the city, Mr. Cop man. I’m an independent. Not a territory guy and I don’t let no gangers tell me what to do.”

  “Isn’t that a little risky?” asked Carlos. “If you butt in on their turf?”

  Mario shrugged. “I got the fear factor going for me.”

  “Uh huh.” Carlos shook his head and Farrell knew what he was thinking—Mafia Mario would soon be dead Mario.

  “Which entrance?” asked Farrell.

  “How would I know?” asked Mario. “I never drove a fuckin truck.”

  “Okay, but closer to Airport Road, you said?”

  “I don’t got a map.”

  “I do.” Farrell pointed at the GPS screen. “See the map on the screen? It shows me where the bridge is.” Mario’s attention had wandered, and Farrell wanted to slap him. Instead, he tapped the screen. “Look at the map, Mario.”

  “I’m looking. Don’t mean nothing to me.”

  Farrell turned at the first sign he saw for the park, drove down the road and parked in the empty lot.

  Carlos opened the glove box and pulled out a couple flashlights. “Not much moonlight tonight. Gonna be hard to see much of anything.”

  “Can you find the spot in the dark, Mario?” asked Farrell.

  “I work at night. What do you think? Dark don’t bother me none.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  They left the truck, entered the park and tramped around one way and then another. Mario seemed confused and wandered aimlessly not knowing where he was going.

  “You sure you saw him here?” asked Farrell.

  Mario wasn’t giving up on his hundred bucks. “It was near the bridge.”

  “Okay,” said Farrell, “the bridge is over the highway and we should be able to see it to the east once we get away from all these trees.”

  Carlos waved his light in the air looking for a clue. “I see it over that way. Not too far.”

  They passed several homeless people sleeping on benches.

  “Where do you meet your regulars?” asked Farrell.

  “Not far from the bus stop,” said Mario, “but I don’t know where that is from the way we came in through the parking lot.”

  “Uh huh. I get you. Don’t worry we’re almost to the bridge.”

  Under the bridge near the water was a little camp of people sleeping and cooking over small fires. Probably all illegal, but they were there all the same. “Is this where he was?” asked Farrell.

  “Yep. He was right about here.” Mario stamped his foot down close to a homeless guy and made him jump.

  “What did he have with him when you saw him? A gun? A sleeping bag? A cooler? What?”

  “He had… let me think. A skinny bedroll and a backpack.”

  Farrell shone his light on the ground where Mario claimed the kid had been sitting. There were a few wrappers and a bit of garbage just like under the porch of the half-way house. “I’m gonna call for the dogs.”

  Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.

  JESSE DIDN’T HEAR the ringing, but Marnie did. She woke up reached for the phone and glanced at the screen. “Jesse, Farrell wants you.” She touched his arm and he jumped.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost three.”

  Jesse took the cell from Marnie. “What’s up, kiddo?”

  “Got a lead on the sniper. He’s in the big park on the Colorado at the Airport Road end. Some debris under the bridge. The dogs might pick up something.”

  “Yep. I’ll be there in less than an hour.”

  “Be where?” asked Marnie.

  “Farrell needs the dogs.”

  “Is he working now?”

  “Farrell’s always working. He never stops.”

  “Can I come?”

  Jesse sat on the side of the bed and tried to wake up. “Go back to sleep.”

  “I want to go with you and watch the dogs work.”

  “Not a good idea,” Jesse grumbled, but he was too tired to argue. “Get dressed if you’re coming and bring a jacket.”

  City Park on the Colorado River. Austin.

  FARRELL called Blaine. “You sleeping?”

  “What do you think? It’s three o’clock in the morning.”

  “Mario saw the kid in the park and Jesse is bringing the dogs. ETA twenty minutes.”

  “Give me directions.”

  Blaine arrived ten minutes ahead of Jesse with coffee for all of them. Without wasting time, he questioned the two homeless guys under the bridge with the little campfire. “You guys see a blond kid here last night?”

  They stared at him and didn’t answer, then one guys said. “Go away. This ain’t your park.”

  Blaine took a stance in front of them and pushed them harder. “Did you talk to the kid with the backpack?”

  “He don’t talk. One of them… you know. Non-talkers. Don’t talk.”

  You did see him. He’s mute?

  Jesse arrived minutes later with Marnie and the dogs. He opened the hatch and Farrell and Carlos got the dogs leashed and ready to go.

  Under the bridge, Farrell pointed at the wrappers and the McDonald’s bag. “We’ll start here and see what happens.”

  The dogs rushed towards the homeless guys and they backed away. “Get your fuckin dogs away from us. We got rights.”

  “Give you each twenty bucks if you move out of the way for five minutes,” said Jesse. He pulled out his wallet and peeled off two twenties.

  The two guys grabbed for the bills and scrambled out of the way.”

  “Thanks,” said Jesse. “Appreciate it.”

  Marnie edged closer so she could watch the dogs.

  Bluebelle alerted first and took off running west with Carlos trying to keep up. Travis was her regular handler, but he was home in bed.

  Red ran behind Bluebelle with Farrell holding his leash.

  “Do we run with them?” asked Marnie.

  “I can’t run,” said Jesse, “but you’re a runner. You can follow, but I’m worrying about the sniper. If they come across him and spook him you might get hurt.”

  “I’ll wait with you, Jesse. I don’t want to get shot and I don’t want you to worry. That causes stress on your heart.”

  Jesse slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “I love you, Marnie.”

  FARRELL’s breath was coming in short gasps as Red passed Bluebelle heading for the riverbank. A sliver of moonlight bounced off the water and Farrell could see a shape running along the bank.

  Carlos was close behind. “I see him.”

  “Stop,” hollered Farrell. “Stop running or I’ll shoot.”

  I can’t shoot. I don’t even know it’s him.

  Splash.

  The kid was in the water and Farrell lost sight of him.

  Splash.

  Carlos was in the water. Farrell grabbed for Bluebelle’s leash and pulled both dogs up tight beside him. The dogs would be in the river in a second if he didn’t hold on to them. They loved water. He patted both their heads and at the same time strained to see what was happening in the r
iver. He shone his light in an arc across the black water and could see nothing. There was a lot of splashing, but Farrell couldn’t see a damned thing.

  Carlos is strong as a bull. He’ll get the kid.

  Blaine caught up, ran to the edge of the water and was about to jump in and help Carlos when the big guy towed the kid to shore, lifted him up and heaved him onto the bank.

  Blaine was there. He rolled the kid onto his stomach, cuffed him then gave Carlos a hand out of the cold water. “Wish I had a towel for you. Jesse has towels in the truck for the dogs.”

  Carlos stood up, soaked through to the skin, his black hair dripping in his eyes. “Water’s cold.”

  Blaine hauled the kid to his feet and held onto the cuffs. “Come on, let’s get out of here and get you guys some dry clothes.”

  “He dropped his bedroll and his backpack over there by that bush,” Carlos pointed. “We need that stuff.”

  “I’ll get it,” said Farrell. He handed the dogs off to Carlos. “Take the dogs back to Jesse.” Farrell shone his light around until he found where the kid had dropped the roll and the backpack before he’d gone for a swim.

  He squatted down, unrolled the thin mat and there was the rifle. He rolled it up carefully, slung the heavy backpack over his shoulder and ran to the truck.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  CHIEF CALHOUN was out of bed and standing at the back door of the DPS building when the boys brought the sniper in. They’d dropped Carlos off at home to get out of his wet clothes and sleep for a couple of hours before he gave his official statement.

  Blaine and the Chief booked the boy, printed him, got him a dry orange jumpsuit and locked him in interrogation room one.

  “His prints came up,” said the Chief. “Collin Emmery with two ems.”

  Blaine raised a black eyebrow. “His father is the manager of the half-way house. He knew.” Blaine grabbed his phone off his belt and called Luke.

  “Yeah, boss. Nothing happening.”

  “We got the kid, Luke. The manager of the house is related to him. Could be his father. Bring Norm Emmery in.”

  “Yep. Roger that, boss.”

  JESSE and Marnie arrived at headquarters both carrying coffee trays and bags from McDonald’s. “Where is he?” asked Jesse.