Rivered

by Carolina Mac

  “But you can do that in the daytime and sleep with your wife at night, can’t you?”

  Jesse grinned. “That’s a definite possibility.”

  “Did you get any info from the warden?”

  “Yep, I jotted it down. They sound like dangerous men, Ace. I don’t want anything happening to you—classified assignment or not.”

  “What did the warden say?”

  “On their way out of the prison they killed two guards—slit their throats and took their uniforms.”

  “Did they have a getaway vehicle?” asked Annie. “What did they steal?”

  “They took the assistant warden’s Malibu, but they’ll dump that baby and change it out as soon as they get a chance.”

  “Did anybody see which way they were headed?”

  “Warden didn’t know, but U.S. Marshall’s Service will be on them like fleas on a monkey. Over the wall is one of their specialties.”

  “Maybe their specialty isn’t the same as my specialty,” said Annie.

  “I’m sure it isn’t,” said Jesse. “We know Donovan is from San Angelo. He might head west.”

  “Or he might think everybody will guess he’s going west and go the opposite direction.”

  “So, we don’t know,” said Jesse. “I’ll have one of the girls at headquarters monitor the scanner for me and report all stolen vehicles in the past six hours.”

  “Jeeze,” said Annie, “they could be anywhere.”

  “Who do you want to help you, Ace? One of the junkers?”

  “See if Jack is free. I prefer Travis, but I don’t know if Blaine needs him.”

  Jesse felt old feelings of jealousy race through his veins at the mention of Travis’ name, but he pushed them away. Annie worked well with Travis because of his technical skills and nothing else. She would never cheat on him. She swore it.

  When Annie left the room, Jesse called Blaine. “Hey, kiddo, did you hear about the jail break at Huntsville?”

  “Nope, just got home and getting ready to go to Johnson City to look for Ginny. You heard she was abducted?”

  “Yeah, I heard. Damn shame after all y’all did to protect her earlier on.” Short of breath, Jesse had to pause. “Anyway, Billy-Don Donovan escaped Huntsville with another dude and the man gave it to Ace. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Farrell about Ace’s assignment.”

  “He won’t hear it from me, but that don’t mean he won’t hear about the escape on the news. Try to keep Neil out of it, would you? He’s in enough of a mess worrying about seeing his mother.”

  “Yeah, Ace told me about that. What the hell?”

  “Don’t want the kid messed up in the head when he’s on the verge of a baseball contract. Know what I’m saying?”

  “Do my best, son. You aware me and Char are staying here at the ranch with your mother?”

  “Best news I’ve had in a long time, Jesse. It’s where you belong.”

  “I’m feeling the good of it. Feeling better every day.”

  Travel Inn. Taggart’s Well.

  VIRGINIA’S GROANING in Mason’s ear startled him awake. He sat up and stared for a moment at the beautiful naked woman thrashing around in the bed beside him.

  Disoriented and groggy from the drugs in her system she wrestled with the sheets and began screaming for help.

  “Don’t holler, Virginia. Be quiet. You’re safe here with me.” Mason pulled her naked body close to him to quiet her and she pushed him away, clawing at his face and screaming. “Who are you? Get away from me.”

  “You stop that, girl. Be still. I don’t want to hit you, but I will if I have to.” Mason grappled with her, holding her arms and trying to calm her down as she flailed at him. Virginia hollered louder as the drugs wore off. She kicked him over and over as he held her arms, then with a growl she lunged towards him and sank her teeth into his neck.

  Mason roared in pain and reacted. He slapped her face hard three times, then punched her in the stomach a couple of good ones. The kicking stopped. Virginia pulled her knees up to her chest and turned her face into the pillow. She sobbed.

  Mason got up, refilled the syringe from the vial on the table and stood looking down at her. “Why couldn’t you be nice to me like I was to you? You bitches are all the same.” He shoved the needle into her arm and pushed the plunger.

  Hill Country Hotel. Johnson City.

  TRAVIS CHECKED out of his room where he’d only caught a couple hours sleep at most and met Gene Wyman in the restaurant for breakfast. “Did you talk to Ackerman this morning?”

  “Yeah, first thing,” said Gene, “and nothing. The Fibs have no more than we had last night, except the clothes that one of the Johnson City deputies found. The jeans and shirt have been sent to their lab, so who in hell knows when they’ll tell us anything.”

  “Oh, they’ll tell us,” said Travis. “Blacky will get copies of all their reports.”

  “The Bureau ain’t good at sharing,” said Gene.

  “Blacky will teach them how to share,” Travis said with a grin.

  Travis left Gene at the hotel to deal with the boys from the Bureau. He unlocked his truck, slid behind the wheel and called Blacky. “On my way back, boss. Nothing so far other than the guy’s clothes. He tossed jeans and a t-shirt into a dumpster when he knocked out the cop and took his uniform.”

  “Who’s lab?”

  “Federal.”

  “I’ll have Ackerman send us copies of everything.”

  “Think he will?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  BLAINE SET TWO coffee containers on Chief Calhoun’s desk and sat down beside Farrell.

  “What kind of a warped asshole would take Doctor Rodriguez?” asked the Chief. “One of the most visible women in the entire country. Every Tom and Dick knows what she looks like. She’s on the cover of every celebrity magazine, for chrissake, how could you expect to hide a woman like that? The idiot signed his own death warrant.”

  “Ackerman’s on it.”

  “Fuck that,” said the Chief with vehemence echoing through every syllable. “That’s a man who can’t find his own ass.”

  Blaine smiled. “His record proves it.”

  “What do you want to do, son?”

  “The DNA analysis on the clothes won’t be back for at least three days even if the Feds make it their number one priority. Ginny will be dead by then.”

  The Chief nodded. “I don’t doubt it—if she’s not dead already. That’s the way these things generally go.”

  “I have to do something that as a scientist, goes against my nature. I hate doing it, but we have to speed up.”

  The Chief raised an eyebrow. “Ms. Mulligan?”

  Blaine nodded. “I’ll send Travis out to Ginny’s house. He knows Isabel, her housekeeper, from his frequent visits,” Blaine rolled his black eyes at the Chief, “and I’m sure he’ll be able to get a few personal items Misty can use. It may or may not work, but in Ackerman’s by-the-book time frame, Ginny’s dead anyway.”

  Farrell nodded as he listened to the conversation and sipped his coffee.

  “What about the car-jackers?” asked the Chief. “Any closer to them?”

  “Uh huh. Now that we have one of them, Nate Wall, I can do more in-depth research and come up with something that will lead us to the others.”

  “But no next of kin or anything yet?” asked the Chief. “We still have the corpse in a drawer?”

  “Not yet. The guy has been off the grid for several years, but I’m working on it and so is Sue.”

  “How about the drowning victims?” Calhoun shuffled through a pile of papers on his desk.

  “Go, Farrell,” said Blaine.

  Farrell filled the Chief in on Arthur Rockaway’s details and the neighbors he’d interviewed at Cherokee Trailer Park.

  “Okay, we’ve got one solid lead on the two floaters, and there’s a BOLO out on Mr. Rockaway’s Caddie?”

  “Yep, since yesterday,�
� said Farrell, “we should get something soon.”

  Cherokee Junction.

  HARLAN shut his truck off in front of the body shop, used his key and went in with Becca to get his tools. Surprised at what he saw, he stopped short inside the door and pointed, “If the Camaro is here in the garage, what’s Mason driving?”

  Becca shrugged. “No clue, babe. But if he left his car here in town, who gave him a ride home?”

  “Must have been one of those jerks from Jim’s where he hangs out,” said Harlan. “He ain’t our problem no more.”

  “That’s for sure,” said Becca. “A big load off my mind.”

  They searched through tools strewn all over the shop and Harlan gathered up all the wrenches, screw drivers, ratchet sets and power tools that belonged to him.

  Becca used a roll of shop towels and wiped the grease off them one by one and packed them into Harlan’s red Snap-On tool box.

  “Got everything that’s yours?”

  Harlan glanced around big garage and nodded. “Yep, I think so. Let’s get out of here.”

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  JESSE SHOWED JACK into Annie’s huge kitchen and poured him a mug of coffee. “Have a seat, Jack, Ace will be out in a minute. She’s settling the baby for her nap.”

  “You and Annie have a baby?” Jack couldn’t hide the surprise in his voice.

  “Uh huh, she’s ten months old.”

  Jesse was done explaining about his daughter. Sometimes things were better left unsaid.

  Annie jogged down the long hallway from the bedroom wing and joined the men at the table. “Nice to see you, Jack. You know about my assignment?”

  “I do, and I’ve been listening to the scanner in the junk truck since I got up and there’s nothing yet.” Jack’s truck was an undercover vehicle tricked out with police equipment, and Jack Prima would be the first to tell you, he didn’t work for one of the alphabet branches of the government.

  “But a BOLO has been issued on the Malibu they stole from the employees parking lot at the prison?” asked Jesse.

  “It’s out there, but nothing on that yet. It’s still early.”

  Annie assembled her rifle, tightened the screws on the scope and zipped up the leather case. She checked the mag on her Beretta, slammed it into the gun and shoved it into the waistband of her jeans.

  Jesse held her in a long hug, before letting her go. “Be careful, Ace.”

  “I will. Let’s get those bad boys.”

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  FARRELL FLICKED on the turn signal and pulled out of the parking lot into the street. “The Chief never mentioned the prison break. He talked about every fucking thing but, and it was so fuckin obvious it was because of me.” Farrell had a grip so tight on the steering wheel his knuckles were white.

  “I’d say he was avoiding the subject to keep from upsetting you, like you obviously are,” said Blaine. “What the hell would you do, bro, if you came face to face with him after all this time?”

  “I’d kill him dead for what he did to my mother, Neil and me. Can’t put into words how much I hate him, Blacky. It’s like rot living in the bottom of my gut and sometimes it flares up and almost eats me alive. He’s bad all the way through—not a speck of good in him.”

  Blaine nodded and let Farrell talk.

  “My mother was a drug addict—a meth head—and she left us with a monster, but I came to terms with her. He would have killed her in one of the beatings—no question—so she left to save her own life. Strung out on drugs, she knew she couldn’t take me and Neil, so she made her choice to save herself.”

  “You stayed with him for a year or so after she left, didn’t you? You haven’t talked much about your past.”

  “He beat on me until I got strong enough and big enough to fight back. Then he started on Neil, and that’s when I decided.”

  “How did he support you guys? Or did he? Did he have a job?”

  “He worked the streets,” Farrell’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Sold drugs, stole cars, robbed houses, stole food. He’d hire a hooker and bring her home, chain her up in the basement and rent her out to his friends. When she got too well-used, he’d kill her, toss her in a dumpster on the other side of town and get another one.”

  “Jesus, Farrell, that’s one of the worst things I’ve ever heard,” said Blacky. “Neil know about that?”

  “Nope, and he’s never gonna find out.”

  “Won’t find out from me,” said Blaine. “But your dad got caught?”

  “Yeah, he got caught even though he was slippery as snot, and not too many people knew about his little business. They gave him life without parole, but he deserved the max. He should’ve got the needle.”

  “Where do you think he’ll run to?”

  “Hmm… if I were him I’d head straight for the guy who called the cops and turned me in.”

  Blaine turned his head and studied his foster brother over the console. “Do you know who it was?”

  “Uh huh. It was me.”

  Truck Stop. Highway Thirty.

  BILLY-DON parked the Malibu next to a black Ford pickup. With the temperature still close to a hundred degrees, the owner of the pickup had gone inside and left his window down. “Charlie, get your ass inside and get us some food while I get us a new ride. Don’t take too long.”

  “Ain’t got much money, Billy.”

  “You’ve got all our cash. Stretch it.”

  Billy-Don started the pickup with no problem and slipped behind the wheel. He watched the door of the restaurant and when Charlie came out he pulled up to the door, picked him up on the run and headed for the highway. “What did you get us to eat?”

  Charlie passed him a take-out container. “Fries and gravy. Cheapest thing they had.”

  “Four cans of beer came with the truck,” said Billy, “reach into the back and get us a couple.”

  “Bonus,” said Charlie.

  Cherokee Trailer Park.

  HUNGRY, AND TIRED of being locked up in the small motel room in Taggart’s Well, Mason loaded Virginia’s naked body into the back seat of the Caddilac and drove home to his trailer. He parked the big blue beast around behind and hauled Virginia in through the back door.

  As he carried her limp body to the bedroom his nose wrinkled up at the stink of the place. He’d forgotten about Nate’s blood all over the kitchen from the operation. He laid Virginia on the bed then searched in the bathroom, found a can of Glade and sprayed the whole trailer.

  “That’s better. She’ll like that flowery smell when she wakes up.”

  GINNY WOKE with a pounding in her head like she’d never felt before. She glanced around the room wondering where she was. The last thing she remembered was the man in the washroom. She groaned, then tears flooded from her eyes. That man had taken her.

  She fought down the panic that threatened to possess her and tried to think rationally. Where was she? And what could she do to get away from him?

  The room was small and dirty. Bed, dresser and a closet with no door. No room for anything more. The bed smelled of sour body odor and the air reeked of… what was it? Tinny, metallic. It smelled like blood mixed with flowers and she felt suddenly sick. Nausea took over. She tried to lean over the side of the bed to throw up and realized her hands were tied together. Tight plastic ties, cutting into the skin on both her wrists. They hurt.

  The man heard her retching and rushed into the bedroom. “Are you sick?”

  She nodded.

  “Do you need the bathroom?”

  She nodded again. Who was he? He was big and heavy, with a beer belly, and his face was bruised, cut up and scabbed over in places. Shaking with fright, she shivered at the same time, then clued in. She was naked. What had he done to her? “No,” she cried and tried to cover herself with the blanket. She choked on her sobs and couldn’t stop.

  “Don’t fuss, Virginia. I’ll get you some clothes,” he said and opened one of the dresser drawers. “Here, try thi
s on.” He handed her a pink t-shirt that looked too small.

  “My hands,” Ginny mumbled.

  “Right, you can’t get it over your head.” He picked a switchblade off the dresser, flicked it open and cut the ties, then helped her with the shirt. “Here’s some pants.” He handed her gray sweats and they looked small as well, but she didn’t care as long as they covered her.

  Whose clothes were these?

  She tugged the pants on and tried to stand, but the nausea returned with swirling dizziness as a chaser. Ginny grabbed the corner of the dresser to steady herself.

  “You dizzy, baby? Let me help you to the bathroom.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That was nice, you said thank you.” He flashed her a grin. “The nicer you are to me, the nicer I’ll be to you. See how that works?”

  She nodded. With every step she took she felt the pain and soreness inside her. He’d raped her, and she had no idea how many times.

  I’ll agree with him and try to keep him away from me.

  He helped her across the hall and let her go into the bathroom alone. “You hungry?”

  She hadn’t thought about it, but under all the pain and confusion her stomach was growling. When had she last eaten? She didn’t even know what day it was. How long had this man had her?

  She nodded her head, then closed the bathroom door.

  “You finish in there and I’ll make you lunch.”

  MASON HAD NO FOOD in his trailer, but he’d seen plenty of tins of chili in Bonehead’s kitchen when he was looking for the cat food. He ran down the street to Rockaway’s trailer and stopped short when he saw the yellow crime scene tape stretched across the front door. “Shit the cops were here,” he mumbled, and that wasn’t his only problem. The old lady from next door was feeding the cats on the step.

  “You can’t go in there,” she said, “The police were here because Mr. Rockaway is dead.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Mason took a step closer to the door, “Well, he told me to take care of his trailer if anything ever happened to him, so I better get in there and check it out.”