by Carolina Mac
She didn’t say the ‘L’ word.
“Tell me why you changed your mind and called me?”
“I’m not finished apologizing.” She smiled. “I didn’t think about it until later, I was so busy with the speeches and the travelling, but you quit your job because of me, to be my bodyguard and protect me, and then I waffled and left you stranded. Totally unacceptable. I have to make up for that.”
“It’s okay. I got my job back.”
“But you shouldn’t have had to go that route. You were an important part of the Blackmore Agency team and you gave that up for me. I’m sorry, Travis. I was thoughtless and selfish.”
“Apology accepted. Tell me what happened. You sounded scared on the phone last night.”
“Maybe I overreacted, but I don’t think so. It felt… creepy.” She stood up and paced in front of the stone fireplace. “There was a red Camaro parked on the street. I saw it from my bedroom window and I knew it didn’t belong to any of the neighbors. Of course, it could have been a visitor, and that’s what I told myself until I saw that the driver was sitting in the car staring up at me.”
“Did he just glance up at you when you went to the window?”
“No, I could have accepted that. He was staring at the window when I pulled the curtain back.”
“Did you get the tag number?”
“I should have, but I didn’t think of it. I was shaky and I you were my first thought. I went straight to my cell.”
“You should have told me this on the phone and I would have come and stayed with you. After what happened in Laredo and Sonora, you can’t take chances or make assumptions.”
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Did you tell your security people?”
“Yes, I told Gene and he said they’d watch the house around the clock.”
“Okay, then that’s covered. Can you give me a copy of your schedule?”
“Sure. What are you going to do?”
“Not sure yet. I’ll think of something.”
Saint David’s Hospital. Austin.
FARRELL SPOKE to the victim’s doctor and obtained permission to wait in Mr. Turner’s room until the latest round of medication wore off and he woke up. His wife had been in earlier, crying and upset about her husband and who could blame her? The guy had been at a business meeting at the airport Marriott and got clobbered over the head and nearly killed when he tried to get into his car to go home.
Farrell sat silently in the visitor’s chair until the pain from the knife wound in his back drove him to his feet. He should have brought pain killers with him but forgot. He paced slowly back and forth from the door to the window while he waited. Passing the bed for the third time, he realized Mr. Turner’s eyes were open.
He sat down close to the bed. “Mr. Turner, I’m Farrell Donovan with the State Violent Crime Team. I’m sure you don’t feel like talking, but I’m gonna ask you a couple questions.”
Turner nodded his bandaged head slightly and Farrell could tell it hurt him to move even the slightest bit.
“Did you see the man who attacked you?”
He raised his left hand slowly and held up two fingers.
“There were two of them?”
Farrell moved the chair closer and pulled out his notebook. “So… two of them, and it was dark, but not too dark. A lot of security lights in the lot. I checked. Did you get a look at either of the men?”
“Truck,” he whispered.
“They were driving a truck? Fantastic. Did you notice the color?”
“Tur…” he closed his eyes and rested for a minute. “Turquoise.”
“Great job, Mr. Turner. Turquoise. That’s a special paint job. Not a standard color. Extremely helpful.”
“Low.”
Farrell leaned in closer. “The truck was low?”
Turner moved his hand. “Lowered.”
“Lowered, like a custom job. Lowered with custom paint too. Excellent.” Farrell wrote it down.
“You’re an observant man, Mr. Turner, and I will get these guys and make them pay for hurting you. I guarantee it.”
Cherokee Junction.
HARLAN WALL lived in a room above his buddy’s garage on Ash Street, the street behind Main. Nate parked Harlan’s truck at the bottom of the outside staircase and got Becca’s bag out of the back seat.
“Does Harlan know I’m coming?”
“Don’t matter,” said Nate. “You have to go someplace, and he’s got more room than me.”
Becca faltered a little getting out of the truck and Nate grabbed her arm.
“You’re still a bit wobbly, girl. Let’s get you upstairs.”
“Thanks, Nate. I mean that.”
“Becca, something’s gone wrong with Mason. He’s not himself and I’m worried.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Harlan opened the door when he heard them on the stairs, and his smile widened when he saw Becca.
“You’re hurt, Harlan,” said Becca as she brushed by him and went inside. “What happened to your head?”
“Mason clocked me.”
“Jeeze, now he’s beating on his brothers? He has lost it.”
“Becca is staying here for now,” said Nate. “Mason was about to kill her when I got there to talk to him.”
“Okay by me.” Harlan flashed a smile. “Handy for her to live in town. She can walk to work from here.”
Becca sat down on the ratty brown sofa and sighed. “I could use a beer, Harlan, if you’ve got one to spare.”
“Sure.” Harlan opened the door of his tiny fridge. His kitchen consisted of one cupboard unit with a sink in the middle stuck under the eaves. The only table was the low one in front of the sofa. Besides that, Harlan had one chair, a double bed, an old-fashioned dresser and a flat screen TV. His clothes hung on a metal rack by the bathroom door. But there was no mess. None.
Harlan handed cans of Lone Star to Nate and to Becca, then eased himself down onto the only chair. He noticed Nate staring at the morning paper on the table. “Yep, see that crime girl, Polito, is asking for help with the car-jackings.”
“I see that,” said Nate. “We’re gonna cool it for a few days. Your head is hurtin and Mason has gone insane. We’ll finish the ones we’ve got in the shop and ship them before we bother with more.”
Harlan nodded. “Good plan. I don’t think I could go another round tonight.”
“Me neither,” said Becca. “I’m calling that prick, Tommy-Joe, and telling him I’m sick.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
JACK HELPED BLAINE unload the boxes and carry them into the house when they got back from Abilene. Lexi ran in and out of the house bouncing and barking while they made several trips.
Jack made the last trip to the truck for the luggage and Blaine’s laptop and set everything down in the foyer.
“Anything else you want tonight, boss?”
“Nope, I’m beat, Jack, and I’m not touching the boxes until I have a good night’s sleep. Put them in the office then come have a beer with me. We’ll call it a day.”
“I’m down with that.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Friday, August 10th.
Cherokee Junction.
BECCA SLEPT soundly in Harlan’s bed after he made sweet gentle love to her, and she woke with more hope in her soul than she’d ever had before. Harlan loved her and had for a long time, so he said in the heat of passion. He told her she’d been with the wrong brother all this time and Becca wanted to believe him.
“You awake?” Harlan filled mugs of coffee at the kitchen counter.
“Best sleep I’ve had in a long while,” said Becca. “Thanks, Harlan.”
“No thanks needed.” He grinned down at her. “I think you thanked me enough already.”
“My pleasure.” Becca tossed off the blanket and sat on the side of the bed. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“I made toast for you,” said Harlan after she was dressed. “Don’t have no eggs, sorry.�
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Becca smiled at him. “Don’t think any man has ever made me toast before.” She stroked his long hair, then leaned down and kissed him. “You are a sweet thing, Harlan Wall.”
“You cried out once in the night, Bec. Were you having a bad dream?”
She screwed up her face trying to think of it. “I can sort of remember dreaming about Butch floating down the Paint. Where do you think he’d turn up?”
“Might not turn up at all if he sank and got caught up in roots and whatnot. But if he kept on afloatin, I think maybe the Paint dumps into Lake Travis at the north end. Be quite a journey for the big asshole if he made it that far.”
“Lake Travis,” said Becca.
“Stop worrying. Butch ain’t our worry anymore.” He took her hand, pulled her down onto the sofa beside him and cuddled her close. “What time do you have to go to Austin?”
“Soon as I get my truck. It’ll be noon before I get there.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
FARRELL SPOONED sugar into his coffee, glanced at his cell on the table beside him and noticed the date. “Dammit, Blacky, this is the day Willie’s tickets go on sale and I forgot to phone Neil.”
“Do it now,” said Blaine, “It’s still early.”
Farrell pressed his brother’s number and waited. “What took you so long to answer, Neil?” Farrell barked into the phone.
“I was asleep, Farrell, and I had to open my eyes first.”
“You should be up.”
“Jeeze, Farrell, you’re grumpy in the morning.”
“Haven’t had my coffee or my pain meds yet. Sorry kiddo. Hey, I need you to do something for me.”
“Figured. That’s the only time you ever phone me.”
“Bullshit, Neil. That ain’t fuckin true.”
“Is so true. What do you want?”
“I want you to go to Austin to the ticket place and line up for Willie and the Boys tickets. They go on sale at ten this morning.”
“Can’t you buy them on line?”
“Not until tomorrow. They’re putting the best seats on a day early, but you have to go in person. I want good seats for Mary. She wants to go real bad.”
“You have to take me too, or I’m not lining up in the heat.”
“Jesus, Neil, you are one tough little bugger to get along with.” Farrell shook his head, “Okay, I’ll pay for your ticket too.”
“Is Blacky coming? How many tickets am I getting?”
Farrell glanced across the table at Blaine. “You coming with us?”
“Yep, I want to see Lukas play his guitar.”
“Yeah, Blacky’s coming. Get four.”
“I’ll use my money and then you can pay me back. If I waste time picking up cash from you, I’ll be at the back of the line.”
“Fine with me. I’ve got too much work today, or I’d go myself.”
Blaine was grinning when Farrell ended the call to his younger brother. “Neil giving you a hard time?”
“Shit, bro, when doesn’t he? It’s his nature.”
“Kind of like you.”
Farrell snorted. “You gonna start on your boxes today?”
“Uh huh. Kind of nervous, but anxious to see what’s in them.”
“I want to get the BOLO out on the turquoise lowered truck first thing this morning. Shouldn’t be too many like that rolling around the city.”
“No hint on the make?” asked Blaine.
“No, but I’m fixing to set Lily on it this morning.”
Lily stuck her head in the kitchen door. “Set Lily on what?”
“Didn’t hear you come in, Lil,” said Blaine. “Want a coffee?”
“Sure if there is any. You guys usually drain the pot dry before I get here.” She filled a mug and walked towards the table for the cream.
Farrell filled her in on the description of the jacker’s truck.
“Yep, gives me something to start on. Paint shops, body shops, DMV. I’ll have a busy morning.”
“Who said paint shops?” Travis walked through the door before Lily could get away.
“I did,” said Lil. “We have a partial description of the car-jacker’s truck.”
“I need you to check the paint shops for another vehicle while you’re at it. A red Camaro.” He told them the story of the guy watching Ginny Rodriguez.
Blaine stared at Travis not looking too happy. “And she called you first thing?”
“Yeah, she did, boss. I knew you’d be pissed.”
“You can help her out on your own time, Travis, but if you start fuckin me or Farrell around again, you are so done here.” Blaine got to his feet. “No more chances.”
“I got it,” said Travis. “Won’t happen.”
Feeling himself reaching the end of his short Latino fuse, Blaine left Travis and Farrell in the kitchen and accompanied Lily down the hall to their offices at the back of the big Victorian. “Just a thought, Lil, these jackers we’re looking for might have their own paint and body shop. That would be handy for them, wouldn’t it?”
“Sure would, boss. I’ll check that angle of it too.”
Cherokee Trailer Park
BECCA RODE with Harlan to the trailer park to pick up her truck. Harlan had offered to drive her to Austin, but it would be better if she went alone. Too much was happening too fast and she’d have some thinking time on the drive into the city.
Harlan parked in front of Mason’s trailer next to the red Camaro and hopped out.
“I have to go inside to get my keys, Harlan. Would you come in with me?”
“The way Mason has been acting, I’m sure not letting you go in there alone, girl.” He reached for her hand. “Come on. It’s your truck. Mason can’t stop you from taking it.”
Harlan pushed open the screen door and strode in ahead of Becca. “Becca needs to get her keys, Mason. She needs her truck.”
Mason favored his brother with one of his perpetual smiles. “Sure thing, Harlan. I got no problem with that. In fact, I’m sorry about what happened, and I’d be damn glad if my sweet Becca came back home.”
Becca ignored Mason and didn’t look at him. She jogged through the kitchen to the bedroom and grabbed her keys off the dresser. As fast as she could, she dropped to her knees and scooped all the cash out of the box she’d hidden under the bed. She shoved the bills in a thick wad into her black purse.
As she passed through the kitchen on the way to the door she heard Harlan talking about the mess Nate made of Mason’s face and she couldn’t help but smile. She was never coming back to that brutal bastard.
She tossed her purse into the front seat of her old pink Chevy pickup, then ran around the side of the trailer, dropped down and groped the damp earth underneath for Butch’s shotgun. Her fingers closed around the cold barrel of the Winchester and she pulled it towards her. When it was all the way out, she grabbed the stock and ran with it to her truck.
MASON HEARD the screen door slam as Becca left and the smile vanished from his face. “You’re sleeping with my woman, you cheating little punk,” he hollered at Harlan.
“I’m treating her better than you ever could.” Harlan poked a finger in Mason’s face. “Becca said so.”
Mason was on his feet. “Oh, she did, eh? Well she’s mine and I want her back.”
“Why? Ain’t you getting in on with the governor bitch?”
“Shut up, Harlan, or I’ll shut you up.”
“Me and Nate aren’t boosting anything for the next little while. Things are too hot. We’re finishing what we’ve got and shipping them. Just letting you know.”
“Funny guy.” Mason pointed at his meaty chest and growled, “I’m the boss. It’s my shop, and you guys work for me in case you brain dead assholes forgot.”
“I don’t forget nothing,” mumbled Harlan. He hooked a thumb at the stick woman peering through the screen door. “Your crack-head neighbor’s here again. You deal with her.”
Harlan opened the door to leave and Liz slithered past him
into the kitchen, waving her bird arms and shouting at Mason. “What time will Bec be back from Austin with the stuff?”
“Don’t know, Liz. Give her a few hours. She just left five minutes ago. Try three o’clock.”
“Three o’clock? That long?” Liz’s eyes were out of focus and Mason doubted she knew the time or what day it was.
“You best sleep until three.” Mason pushed her towards the door, then locked it behind her.
“Shit, what a morning.” He ambled into the bathroom to check out the condition of his face. Gashes on each cheek, from Nate’s goddam rings, blood crusted and starting to heal over, both eyes ringed with black circles like a racoon, and his mouth was sore and swollen. He couldn’t eat because his fuckin teeth were loose. All he could do was drink beer to keep him alive. Mason let out a big sigh. “I can’t let her see me like this.”
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
NEIL PACED on the porch waiting for Annie. “Come on, Mom,” he mumbled under his breath, “Farrell will kill me dead if I don’t get good seats for Mary.”
Annie flew out the door, ready to go and headed for her truck. “Sorry, honey, I had to take a phone call.”
“You didn’t need to drive me, Mom. I could have done this myself.”
“I want to take you and I have an ulterior motive.”
“Jeeze, Mom, are you gonna make me do some girlie stuff in the city?”
Annie giggled. “No sugar, I’m going to make you try on clothes for school. We have to get that done before you go back to Dallas.”
Neil let out a breath. “I can deal with that.”
“Good. Let’s get the tickets first, then we’ll grab lunch and go shopping.”
When they drove into the downtown area, traffic was heavy. “There’s the TicketMan on the other side of the park, Mom. You can let me out here.”
“Okay, I’ll find a place to park and then find you in the lineup.”
“You shouldn’t stand out in the sun, Mom. It won’t be fun.”
“Stop worrying, honey.” She pulled over to the curb and Neil jumped out.
Downtown Austin.
BECCA COULDN’T BELIEVE the traffic in Austin on a Friday morning. “It’s never been this busy around the park before.” She circled the block twice before finding a spot big enough to squeeze her pickup into. She put money in the meter and ran across the grass to the corner of the park where her guy had a regular bench under a big old oak tree.
