by Carolina Mac
“Forget that,” said Neil. “I’m not giving up my truck.”
“You’ll do exactly what I tell you to do, kid. I could break your neck with one hand, if I wanted to.”
“I’m no good to you dead,” said Neil. “You can’t drive.”
“Don’t be too sure about that.”
Neil took the exit for Junction and the Dog pointed at a Walmart plaza with a McDonald’s in the corner of the parking lot. “This will be okay,” said the Dog. “Do the drive through first, then park the truck in a solid line of vehicles.”
Neil joined the lineup for the drive through and pointed at the menu sign. “What do you want?”
“Double cheeseburger, fries and a Coke,” said the Dog.
“That’s the first thing you’ve said that makes sense,” said Neil. “I’ll have the same.”
“You look a lot like your brother, kid. Only one thing missing.”
“I don’t weigh as much,” said Neil. “Farrell is solid muscle. He works at it.”
“You’re missing that stone cold killer look in your blue eyes that Dead-Eye has.”
“Farrell’s a Texas Ranger and a crime fighter. He puts guys like you in jail and I’m proud of him.”
“Yeah, I bet you are.”
Neil drove up to the window and paid for the food. He took the bag from the woman at the next window and handed it over to the Dog. “Where do you want me to park?”
“Closer to Walmart where we can be lost in a row of cars.”
“I’m not leaving my truck,” said Neil, “So you can forget stealing something else.”
“You’ll do what I say. Nothing more or less.”
Neil smiled and repeated. “Nothing more or less. Got it. Now you get it, Mr. Dog. I’m not leaving my truck, so you can fuck yourself right up the ass.” Neil took a big bite of his cheeseburger and listened to the Dog growl.
The Dog finished eating first and wanted to get moving. “Boost the SUV next to us and make it quick.”
“I’m not done my burger,” said Neil.
The Dog rammed the nose of the Beretta into Neil’s side so hard it made him holler. The kid dropped his burger trying to get out of the way, then flung out his right arm and punched the dog in the face. Dougie grabbed the kid’s wrist and twisted it. “Don’t fuck with me, kid. I’ll break every bone in your fuckin body and you won’t be playing baseball. Not this season—not ever. You won’t even be fuckin breathing.”
“Don’t break my arm.” Neil pulled his arm back and rubbed his wrist. “That’s my throwing arm, you fucking pervert. I’ll do what you want.”
“Do it, then. Boost the fuckin SUV and let’s get the hell out of here.”
NEIL HOPPED out of his truck, the slim Jim in his hand that he kept under the front seat. It wasn’t really his. He’d found it there beside her shotgun when the truck was given to him by his biological mother. He kept everything she’d given him and treasured each of the three items because it was all he’d ever have of her.
He popped the lock on the Hyundai, opened the passenger door for the Dog then locked up his truck. He slid behind the wheel of the Tucson, smacked the cover off the ignition housing and hotwired the engine like he’d done a thousand times before when he and Farrell lived on the streets of San Angelo.
Doug Robertson’s Residence. North Las Vegas.
TRAVIS AND ANNIE headed to the Dog’s residence in north Vegas. A ranch house similar to others on the quiet street. Working class neighborhood where the Dog blended in. Annie took her rifle with her thinking that once members of the B team saw what was left of their clubhouse they would be gunning for the Dog. Exactly what she intended, but she hadn’t planned on being in his house at the time they sought retribution.
Her every thought was for Neil and his safety. She never should have gone along with the plan to bring the Dog in out of the cold for information. She should have killed him at the truck stop like she wanted to. Know your limitations. She was a sniper not an operative.
“Where should we start?” asked Travis.
“You have a nose for these things, sugar. Your call.”
“I took a look in the garage window and there’s not much in there, so I’ll get it out of the way first, then we’ll start in here. Why don’t you tap the walls and see if you get any hollow sounds anywhere?”
“Okay, I’m tapping,” said Annie.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
AFTER GOVERNOR CAMPBELL’S speech to the media about the East End Gang, tips had been flooding into headquarters, some better than others. Most were false and no good at all. People saw groups of kids—any kids and they phoned the tip line. All the tips were relayed to Lily at the Blackmore Agency and she sorted through hundreds of them.
She received two that morning that she thought might have merit. “Boss, sorting through the tips and these two sound plausible.”
“Tell me, Lil. I’m almost losing my mind.”
He didn’t have time to tell her about Neil. And he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it.
“At H-E-B in the east end of the city, a gang of kids ran through the store grabbing food. They tried running past the checkout without paying and most of them made it. One kid got caught and the store manager called the police.”
“Where’s the kid, Lil?”
“He’s at the 3-2, in holding.”
“Good catch. Might be them. Phone and tell the station I’m pickin the kid up, then call Jesse and have him meet me at headquarters in an hour.”
“Got it.”
Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.
JESSE WAS WASHING up after chores at home on his ranch when he got the call from Lily at the agency.
“We caught another kid, Jesse. Boss is picking him up at the 3-2 and wants you to interview him in an hour if you can make it.”
“Sure,” said Jesse. “I’ll have a quick bite of dinner. Should be there by seven.”
East Austin.
BLAINE and Fletcher were on their way to pick up the kid when another call came in.
“Ranger Ruskin, here, Ranger B. Got a hit on your BOLO for tag number,” she repeated Bart’s tag. “Truck is parked at the big blue barn out near the airport.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Bart is probably checking the building before he goes home for the night.
“Another good tip, boss?” asked Fletcher.
“A locate on Bart’s truck. It’s parked at the Buy and Sell Barn.”
“He could be keeping an eye on the barn now that it’s closed,” said Fletch.
“Same thing I was thinking.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
JESSE reached headquarters before Blaine arrived with the latest kid suspect. He availed himself of the opportunity to catch up with Chief Calhoun. “I thought you’d be gone home for dinner by now, sir.”
“Should be, but if the case is going to break, I want to be here.”
“Course you do. Get an ID on the dead boy in the van?”
The Chief nodded. “He was one from the murder list at Herman’s crime scene, Johnathan Frolick. Diabetic. Died from lack of insulin.”
Jesse shook his head and threw up his hands. “If it was my kid and he missed one dose of insulin—I’m talking one.” He held up a finger. “I’d have the goddam hounds out looking for him.”
“It was days before the Frolicks were even worried,” said the Chief. “I don’t know what they were thinking.”
Blaine tapped on the door and stuck his head in. “We’re ready in room three.”
“What did he steal?” asked Jesse as he strode down the corridor with Blaine.
“Couple big boxes of cereal and two cartons of milk.”
“Twenty bucks?”
“Not even.”
“See what I can do,” said Jesse. He entered the room, set the recorder on the table and sat down.
The boy was smaller than the last couple he’d interviewed. This guy was possibly thirteen, fourteen at the most.
“I’m Jesse. Want to tell me your name, son?”
The kid gave his head a quick shake.
“Okay, your choice. Want a drink or a bag of chips before we get started?”
“Soda would be good. I’m not hungry.”
“I’ll get you a Coke.” Jesse stuck his head into the hallway and asked for a can of soda for the kid. One of the girls brought it back from the vending machine and Jesse opened it and put the straw in. “There you go.”
Jesse rounded the table and sat down. “Be easier for me if I knew what to call you, son. Won’t hurt to give me your first name.”
“You can call me Kurt.”
“Okay, thanks, Kurt, let’s get started. You were caught stealing food from a grocery store in the east end of the city. You live out that way?”
“I’m staying with a friend.”
“Your parents know where you are?”
“They don’t give a rat’s ass where I am and never have.”
“I see,” said Jesse. “Who’s the friend y’all are staying with?”
With his hands cuffed to the table, the kid had to bend down and slurp his Coke through the straw. “Can’t tell you that. Sorry.”
“Let me tell you what I know and then I’ll let you have a turn to talk, okay?”
Kurt shrugged. “Don’t matter to me.”
“What I know is this, the gang y’all are running with has one purpose. Getting kids hooked on drugs, then turning them into dealers and recruiters. This benefits one person and one person only and that’s Kyle Teckford or maybe you know him as Basil Bernard.” Jesse studied the kid’s face and Kurt wore a surprised look. Kurt was surprised Jesse knew as much as he did.
“Some of the kids from your gang have already died, and others will be in jail for the rest of their lives because they committed murder for Kyle Teckford. Once y’all are users and dependent on Mr. Teckford to feed your habit, there is no way out of the gang. You will die there—starvation, drug overdose, or shot during a holdup or a murder attempt. This is where y’all are heading.”
Jesse stood up and picked up his recorder. “I’m going to let you go to your cell, have dinner and a night’s rest and think about what I told you. We’ll talk again tomorrow.”
“You said I was gonna get a chance to talk.”
“You want to talk, Kurt?”
The kid nodded his head. “I thought I would like being part of a gang. Some of my friends talked it up and I believed them, but once I saw how gross it was, and the shit you had to do, I wanted to go home. Only I couldn’t.”
“That’s the truth.” Jesse leaned down and tapped the table with his finger. “There’s only one way you can go home, and that’s to get out while you still can.” Jesse pointed a finger at Kurt. “You are so lucky you got caught at the grocery store because that’s your ticket out. Now that you’re here with us, you don’t have to go back to the gang. But… you have to use your ticket, Kurt. You have to want out and use the ticket.”
Kurt nodded his head. “I’m gonna use my ticket.”
Junction. Texas.
FARRELL set his phone on the passenger seat and tried to watch Neil’s tracker while he drove. He saw his brother had stopped in Junction for almost twenty minutes, and even though he was miles behind when Neil had been in Junction, he had to check it out.
Darkness was falling as he pulled into the first mall he came to, thinking the Dog would be looking for another ride. One spin around the parking lot and he caught a glimpse of pink.
Farrell stopped behind Neil’s truck and called. “Blacky, Neil’s truck is in the Walmart parking lot in Junction. Have it towed in and check for stolen vehicles at that same location. I’m trying to catch up.”
“Yep, I got all that. As soon as I get the tag on the ride they took, I’ll get it out there, then call you.”
“Thanks, bro.”
Fogarty’s Buy and Sell Barn. East Austin.
BART DOZED in the dark wondering where he was. He was remembering more now that his head had cleared a little. The gang had sneaked up on him. They’d grabbed him close to his truck and he remembered four or five of the little buggers jumping on him and pulling him down on the ground while the big, ugly guy laughed. They punched him in the face, kicked him and threw rocks at him. He tried to think back on what happened next, and he couldn’t recall it. His body ached all over and he was thankful he couldn’t see how bad he was hurt. Bart let out a groan and there was no one to hear him.
He should have been more careful like the Ranger told him. His stomach growled. Time for supper, but it didn’t look like he’d be getting any. And there was another even bigger problem. He had to piss soon. Very soon.
Doug Robertson’s Residence. North Las Vegas.
ANNIE AND TRAVIS searched the Dog’s residence and found nothing. There were no rugs to look under, and after Travis carefully scrutinized floors, walls and ceilings in each room, he came up empty.
“I’d bet my left nut he’s got money stashed in this house,” said Travis. “But if he has, he did a damn good job of hiding it.”
“Maybe he buried it in the yard,” said Annie, “like a pirate, or like a body.”
Travis raised an eyebrow. “Don’t say that too lightly, girl. You might be close to the truth about a body.”
Annie made a face as she headed for the door. They were locking up and leaving to go back to their motel when a loud rumble sounded off in the distance.
“Somebody’s pissed about the clubhouse,” said Travis, “and it sounds like a lot of somebodies coming our way.”
They ran for the rental Jeep and hopped in.
“Circle the block, sugar and we’ll get out of their way.” Annie hopped in the shotgun seat and pointed her rifle at the floor.
Travis backed out the drive and scooted around the corner onto the next street as the rumble grew closer and closer. The engines quieted for a few minutes before they started up again. The rev of the Harley’s was followed by a loud boom.
Flames were visible from a block away shooting up over the rooftops. A homecoming present for the Dog.
Retribution.
Bikers lived for it.
Annie smiled and called it in.
I-10 West.
“I NEED SLEEP,” said Neil. “I’ve been driving for hours.”
“Tough shit, kid.” growled the Dog. “Suck it up and keep going.”
“Can’t,” said Neil. “I’m not shittin you, Mr. mean Dog, I’m falling asleep and I’m gonna crash.”
“You fuckin wimp. Pull into the next rest stop and we’ll sleep for an hour. No longer. I’m in a hurry.”
“You’re in a hurry to get dead,” said Neil. “Mom won’t let you live.”
The Dog grinned at him. “That’s what you think, punk.”
That’s what I know.
Ten miles passed and the blue sign for the rest area showed up in the headlights. Neil flicked on his blinker and made the turn.
CHAPTER NINE
Tuesday, February 17th.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE and Fletcher sat at the kitchen table finishing their coffee. Lily had retreated to her office to work on the tips that continued to roll in after Cat’s call to action. One had been good, and Blaine hoped for another one that was legit.
“Anything from Farrell?” asked Fletcher.
Before Blaine could answer the dogs barked and ran to the front foyer. He went to see who it was because he wasn’t expecting anyone, and no one could get through the gate unless one of the junkers let them in.
“Hammer? You’re here in Austin? Why? Is Misty with you?” Blaine peered out the door over Hammer’s shoulder. “Where the hell is Misty?”
Hammer shrugged. “Couldn’t find her again after I lost her in bayou country, boss, and didn’t want to waste any more time on it.”
Blaine felt heat prickle up the back of his neck and rammed his hands deep into his pockets, so he wouldn’t strike the asshole in fr
ont of him. “And you think that’s your call?” Blaine shouted and both dogs barked.
“Waste of time and money,” said Hammer. “I figured I’d be more useful here.”
“If I want to waste your time and my money to keep Misty safe, I fuckin well will.” Blaine’s hands were free of his pockets and he gave Hammer a healthy push backwards. “And I’ll waste as much as I goddam well want. You’re fired.” Blaine turned his back on Hammer to keep from hitting him. “I’ll have Lil pay you up to date by tomorrow.”
Hammer grinned. “You’re kidding, right boss? You can’t fire me. You need me.”
“I don’t need anybody who can’t follow an order. Weakens my team.” Blaine turned and pointed at the door. “Get out. You’re done.”
Hammer stomped out and Blaine locked the door behind him. He let the junkers know Hammer was not allowed through the gate then returned to his chair in the kitchen, slumped down and said, “Shit, now I don’t know where Mist is.”
Fletcher raised an eyebrow but offered no comment.
Lily ran through the kitchen door with a yellow post-it in her hand. “This might be a real one, boss. Campers spotted an RV in the Bastrop campground with eight or ten teenage kids hanging around.”
Blaine took the slip of paper. “Great. See if you can find any RV’s that got ripped off—dealers or privately. Fletch and I will go check it out.”
I-10 West.
FARRELL HADN’T SLEPT. He smoked, drove with the window down, letting cold air blow in his face, and he chugged back a couple of energy drinks to keep him alert. If the Dog stopped anywhere for a couple of hours, he’d be right on top of him and Neil soon.
It was surprising that nothing had come in from highway patrol on the tag.
Have they changed rides again?
I want to call Neil’s cell, but I can’t. The Dog will know I’m on him.
Phoenix. Arizona.
ON THE NORTH end of Phoenix, the Dog pointed to a Citgo service center with a convenience store attached. “Fill up with gas and get us some food. I’ve got to take a piss.” The Dog stuck out a big hand when Neil stopped at the pumps. He left the engine running. “Shut it down and gimme the keys.”
