Dog

by Carolina Mac

  Farrell checked the screen. “Bart.”

  “Hope he’s got something.” Blaine took the phone. “Hey, Bart, tell me the good news.”

  “Got the van at the first park they were at. It’s parked beside the trailer. No sign of anybody. I’m out of my truck and I’m looking in the window of the van.”

  “Got a pair of gloves, Bart? Don’t touch the door handles.”

  “Okay, hang on. Nothing in the cab. I can see through the driver’s side window and I’m not opening the door. Let me look in the back doors, then I’ll leave it for you guys.”

  Blaine waited until Bart came back to him.

  “You might need people here, Ranger. Dead kid in the back. Just one.”

  Blaine inhaled. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, Bart. You watch yourself in case they’re still around.”

  “Nobody here. I’ll let Biscuit out for a run and wait for y’all.”

  Canyon Motel. West Las Vegas.

  ANNIE AND TRAVIS returned to their motel room with their purchases from Home Depot and several other stores.

  “I’ll get us a couple of beers and watch you work.”

  “Get in touch with Vargas and see where his inside man is,” said Travis.

  “Uh huh.” Annie turned and stared at him. “Did you forget that I’m not here? I’m invisible. You’ll have to be our contact with Vargas.”

  Travis grinned. “You don’t look invisible to me.” He motioned her to come sit on his knee.

  Annie shook her head. “No time for fooling around, sugar pop. Concentrate on what you’re doing. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

  Abandoned Trailer Park. East Austin.

  BLAINE arrived at the park property expecting to see Bart’s truck, but it wasn’t there. He slipped on a pair of latex gloves and opened the double back doors of the Hawkins plumbing van. He nodded his head, closed the doors and did a walkabout with Farrell and Fletcher.

  “Pick up anything that looks fresh and bag it,” said Blaine. “They haven’t been gone long.”

  “I thought Bart was waiting for us,” said Farrell.

  “Said he was. Maybe he changed his mind.”

  They waited about twenty minutes before the medical examiner, Doctor Mort Simon, arrived. He stepped out of the van with his helper and asked, “This another young kid, Blacky?”

  Blaine nodded.

  “Damn shame,” said the doctor. He hopped in the back of the van with Ted, his assistant. Blaine stood at the back of the van waiting for the probable cause of death. Mort had been around a long time and was usually on the money with his preliminary assessment.

  “I’m leaning towards a diabetic coma that wasn’t treated,” said Mort. “I’ll know for sure when I get him on the table.”

  “One of the mothers said her son was diabetic and he’d gone too long without his insulin,” said Blaine. “Might be Johnathan Frolick.”

  “Have her come in later for the identification. I won’t have him ready for a couple of hours at least.”

  The B Team’s Clubhouse. Red Rock Canyon.

  THE CLUBHOUSE at the end of the dirt road was deserted in the middle of the day. The relentless Nevada sun shone down on sparse desert vegetation—yucca, cactus and the odd wildflower. Not much around the B team’s home but desert, rock and snakes.

  The boys were all either sleeping or out on their Harley’s taking care of business.

  Travis pulled on a pair of leather gloves before he picked up his newly purchased bolt cutters to snap the padlock off the clubhouse door. Annie waited in the truck as Travis did his thing. A few minutes inside and he returned to the Jeep wearing a big smile. “We’re all set.”

  Annie drove deep into the canyon on the two lane highway, cruising along and waiting until Travis was happy with the distance.

  “This should be about right, girl.” He winked at her over the console, then pressed the button on his phone.

  Annie heard a little noise, but not much. They were too far away. She glanced in the rear view and watched a bit of debris shoot into the wide blue Nevada sky. Hardly enough to attract any attention. Just the way they planned it.

  “Hang on.” She made a quick U-turn and headed back to take a look.

  The frame clubhouse blazed and crackled merrily as Annie hopped out and hung the president’s cut on the mesquite tree in the yard.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  CHIEF CALHOUN sipped the Starbuck’s coffee Farrell had provided while he listened to the update from the trailer park.

  “Bart, Herman Fogarty’s helper, spotted the van?” asked the Chief.

  Blaine nodded. “He’s keen to see justice served, but I’m nervous about him finding Teckford and arriving ahead of us. He’s holding onto a lot of anger over Herman’s death, and he may do something he’ll regret later.”

  “Vigilantes can be a problem,” the Chief paused after he’d uttered the words realizing what he’d said to the current crown prince of the breed, “if left unchecked for too long,” he added as a neutralizer.

  Blaine pretended he didn’t notice and went over what needed to be done. The van had been towed to the forensics garage and the dead boy was in the morgue. He’d called the Frolicks and asked them to come to headquarters at their earliest convenience. Mr. Frolick apparently couldn’t leave the jobsite to see if his only son was lying on a slab, so Mrs. Frolick would be flying solo on that errand.

  Blaine snapped out of his mental scheduling to hear what the Chief was saying. “I say we give Bart’s tag to DPS and put a man on him. He seems to be in the right area at the right time—more so than we’ve been.”

  “I second that,” said Farrell. “Bart’s putting in the hours searching the backroads, that’s a for sure.”

  With the BOLO out on Bart’s truck, Blaine remembered to call Mr. Hawkins. “Afternoon, sir, this is Blaine Blackmore. I’m calling about your van.”

  “Did you find it, Ranger?”

  “We did. It’s in the forensic garage, and as soon as they finish with it, you can pick it up.”

  “Can I ask where y’all found it?”

  “Not in the city is all I can tell you for now,” said Blaine.

  “Doesn’t matter. I’m happy it’s been found and taken to a safe place. Does it look damaged?”

  “Not that I noticed, but you may want to have it detailed.” He skipped telling Hawkins about the body of the kid in the back.

  “Sure. No problem. Thanks for calling.”

  A TAP on the Chief’s door and the receptionist from the front section of the building announced Mrs. Frolick’s arrival. Blaine strode out to the waiting area to greet her. “Mrs. Frolick, thank you for coming so quickly.”

  Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face puffy from crying. Pale and without makeup, she appeared years older than the last time Blaine had seen her in the boardroom.

  “If you’d like to follow me, we’ll get this done as quickly as possible.”

  “I don’t want to do it at all,” said Mrs. Frolick. “My husband said I was wasting my time and wasting gas driving over here because it couldn’t possibly be Johnathan.”

  “He doesn’t know that,” said Blaine, with an edge to his voice. “Your son has been missing for a long period of time for a young boy.”

  “I haven’t slept in days,” said Mrs. Frolick as she followed Blaine down the stairs. She stopped short at the door marked ‘Morgue’ and inhaled a big breath. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “I can have the pathologist put a picture on the screen for you. Would that be better?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Blaine held the door open and waited until Mrs. Frolick entered ahead of him. He showed her where to sit, then set up the viewing.

  A few minutes later, the image of the John Doe flashed onto the screen. Mrs. Frolick let out a blood-curdling scream and slid off her chair onto the floor.

  Blaine helped her up when she opened her eyes and offered her a bottle of water. “I’ll call your hu
sband to come and get you, ma’am. You shouldn’t drive.”

  Unknown location.

  BART WOKE up tied to a chair. His arms were bound behind him and the feeling was gone in his hands. Numbness had spread into his shoulders and neck. His hands were cuffed together with plastic ties and he couldn’t move his rigid fingers. His ankles were tied one to each chair leg and he had no hope of standing up. With every beat of his heart, his head throbbed, and his throat was so parched he couldn’t muster up enough spit to swallow.

  He had no idea where he was. Pitch dark. No light coming from anywhere, but it smelled familiar. It must be daytime, but he couldn’t know for sure. Wherever he was there were no windows.

  He tried to remember what had happened and it hurt his head to think. He had called the Ranger with the long black hair and told him about the boy in the van. He said he’d wait. Then what?

  Did he walk back to sit in his truck? Where was Biscuit? He recalled letting the dog run around the park while he was on his cell making the call. After that--nothing.

  “No, don’t be lost, Biscuit,” Bart pleaded out loud. “Don’t be lost in the park with the killer kids.” His chest ached for his dog and he tried hard not to give in to the tears burning behind his eyes.

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  NEIL and the kids were behind the music studio playing baseball on a grassy area where Annie held her huge picnics several long weekends a year. Neil was knocking gentle flies into the air for Jackson and Lucy to catch. The two six-year olds loved to compete with each other and see who could catch the most. They talked and argued about it for days.

  A voice he wasn’t familiar with caused Neil to turn around and it took him a couple of seconds to realize he was staring down the barrel of a Beretta that looked a lot like Annie’s gun. “I need you to drive me somewhere, kid. Put the bat down and walk to your truck. Do it now.”

  Neil shook his head. “I ain’t doing it.”

  “If you swing the bat at me and don’t lay it down right now, the first one I shoot will be that little girl.” The Dog pointed the gun at Lucy. “Start walking to your truck.”

  Neil’s lip curled, and he wanted to smash the Dog’s face in, but he couldn’t risk him shooting at the kids. He laid the bat down and hollered out, “Back in a few minutes, kids. Jacks, you hit some grounders to Lucy.”

  “That was good thinking,” growled the Dog. “You’re a smart boy.”

  “What you’re doing ain’t smart, Mr. Dog. My Mom will kill you for this.”

  Dog laughed. “She loves me. I’ve got her covered.”

  Neil smiled to himself because he knew different.

  THE DOG struggled with his stiff, bandaged leg and it took him a couple of minutes to settle into the front seat of the ungodly looking pink truck. Trying to maneuver his leg with his right hand and keep the gun pointed at Neil with his left, proved tricky, but he managed. “Come on, start this junker up and get going.” He waved the gun. “Go, now, and don’t bother trying anything stupid. I’ll have no second thoughts about blowing your head off.”

  “My truck ain’t a junker, it’s a damn good truck.”

  “Shut up and drive.”

  NEIL GAVE the guard on the gate a wave on the way out. He didn’t recognize him. Must be a new guy. He drove down the long shady lane and stopped when he reached the highway to find out which way to turn.

  “Go south to the interstate,” said Dougie.

  “Yeah? Where we going?”

  “None of your business, kid. You drive, and I’ll do the thinking and the navigating.”

  Neil snarled at the Dog over the console. “I have to study for exams, so this better not take too long.”

  The Dog cocked the gun and waved it at Neil. “Back at you, kid. It will take as long as I say it’s gonna take. I don’t give a flying fuck if you have to study or if you have to phone the fuckin pope.”

  “Uh huh. I get it. You’re pretending to be a tough guy.” Neil chuckled. “You’ll never be as tough as my brother or Blacky. Compared to them, you’re a joke.”

  “Fuck yourself, asshole and shut your mouth.”

  Neil smiled. “Why were you at the ranch anyway?”

  “That is also none of your business. Shut up and drive.”

  “I am driving, or didn’t you notice.”

  “I hate kids with smart mouths, and I’ve shut a lot of them up. You better close yours.”

  “Know what I hate?” asked Neil and didn’t wait for a response. “Assholes like you who think they can whip kids like me into being their slaves. Been there, done that. Ain’t doing it again.”

  The Dog lit up a smoke and glared at Neil.

  “You can’t smoke in my truck,” said Neil. “Butt out.”

  “Make me.”

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  FARRELL’S cell rang as he and Blacky sifted through stolen vehicle reports at headquarters, looking for something Kyle Teckford might have hot wired in the past few hours. “Hey, Mag, what’s up?”

  “Need the boss. Why’s his phone off?”

  “Didn’t know it was off,” said Farrell. “He handed his cell to Blacky.

  “Mag, something up with the Dog?”

  “Fucking right there is. The new guy on the gate let Neil’s truck out, and that’s the only vehicle not accounted for. The Dog is gone and so is Neil.”

  “Jesus in a handcart,” hollered Blaine. He rolled his eyes at Farrell and Farrell lost color.

  “I’ll have a BOLO out on the truck in ten seconds,” said Blaine. “Any of Annie’s guns missing from the cabinet?”

  “Spare Beretta.”

  “Fuck that,” hollered Blaine. “Back at you, Mag.”

  Blaine handed the phone back to Farrell and paced back and forth like he did when he was thinking.

  “Are you gonna tell me or what?”

  “You know how you have a tracker on me in my phone?” asked Blaine.

  “The phone that ain’t turned on?”

  “Yeah, that one.” Blaine pulled his cell off his belt and turned it on.

  “So?” Farrell barked at his foster brother. “You’re making me want to take a swing at your head.”

  Blaine tried to sound calmer than he felt. “Do you have one of those on Neil’s phone?”

  Farrell lost it. “What do you mean—on Neil’s phone?” Farrell tried to put it together. “You’re putting a BOLO out on Becca’s truck?” The pink truck had belonged to Becca Donovan, Farrell and Neil’s biological mother, before she gave it to Neil. “Why?”

  “The Dog is missing from the ranch and so is Neil.”

  “I’m gonna puke.” Farrell made good on his threat and hurled into the waste basket next to the desk they were using.

  “I’ll go put the alert on the truck and you find them on your phone and see where the hell they are.”

  Farrell wiped his mouth with his forearm and took a couple of deep breaths. He collapsed into the chair behind the desk, his heart thumping in his ears and adrenaline pumping. He held his breath while he summoned the courage to call up the tracker on Neil.

  Past San Antone and heading west.

  Blaine came back saying the BOLO was out and saw Farrell staring at his phone. “Where are they?”

  “Past San Antone.” Farrell jumped to his feet. “I’m gone. Won’t be long until they change vehicles. The fuckin Dog won’t ride in a pink truck. Keep me posted. And call Mom and tell her to stay in Vegas and keep watch on the Dog’s house.”

  “Why would he go back there when he could be in Laredo at the border in a couple of hours?” asked Blaine.

  “All that money he had gathered to buy the guns might have cleaned him out,” said Farrell. “He lost all of it when he made his deal. He might have to go to his house for cash. No other reason on earth he’d risk going back there.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. It has to be for money.”

  Farrell turned as he got to the door. “He either has money stashed at his house, or
he’s gonna sell Neil back to Annie.”

  “Fuck that.” The short fuse blew. Blaine hollered and viciously kicked the modesty panel at the front of the desk with his Harley boot. With an ear-splitting crack, the panel busted in half and the desk sagged.

  Farrell grinned at his brother as he beat it to his truck.

  FARRELL FIRED UP the red Silverado, plunked the magnetic strip of strobes on his roof and barreled south down I-35 like the devil was up his ass. According to a rough estimate of the time the pink truck exited through the gate at Coulter-Ross, Neil was about three hours ahead of him. The Dog would want a different vehicle as soon as possible—pink being super easy for DPS to spot. Blacky would figure it out and call him.

  Has he called Mom?

  Farrell pressed her number and called. “Mom, Blacky call you?”

  Annie was sniffling so she knew. “I’m so sorry, baby. I never meant for this to happen. I put my boys in danger.”

  “You had Mag on him, Mom. Where in hell was Magnuson looking?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. He’s so diligent.”

  “I’ve got a tag in Neil’s phone, but that don’t mean much if I can’t catch up,” said Farrell. “They’ll grab a different car or truck soon and Blacky’s keeping on top of that end of things. Roaring along the interstate ain’t doing much for me.”

  “Blaine wants round the clock on the Dog’s house,” said Annie. “He’s coming back to Vegas for a reason.”

  “Get Travis inside the house and search for the obvious. Secret stash—floor, ceiling, electrical, garage.”

  “We’ll do it right now and I’ll ask for extra manpower for surveillance from the gang squad.”

  “Another thing to think about, Mom. He’s gonna take Neil across the Arizona line by tonight. What do you want to do?”

  “Let me inquire.”

  “Get back to me.”

  Junction. Texas.

  “TAKE THIS EXIT,” barked the Dog. “I need to piss and get some food. I’m about goddam starved. Pull into the first mall you come to and we’ll change rides.”