by Carolina Mac
“Jasper? He sits on the other side where there’s more shade,” said Becca. “He parks his ass on that bench for hours waiting for customers and it’s hot as hell this time of year.”
“Don’t the cops roust him out of there?”
“Oh, yeah, sure they do, but he just waits until they’re gone and comes back again.”
“Sure is hot today.” Harlan wiped the sweat off his forehead with his forearm as he walked. “Must be over one ten.”
They crossed the park and found Jasper in his regular spot eating a chili dog and sucking on a purple Slurpee. “Hey, Bec, must be Friday if you’re here to visit me.” He pointed at the bench and she sat down.
Becca opened her purse and put her hand on her wad of money.
“A kid was here last week asking questions about you,” Jasper said between bites. “Looked about seventeen or so.”
Becca froze and said nothing for a minute. “What did he look like?”
Jasper grinned and showed a row of purple teeth. “Looked a helluva lot like you.”
Becca’s hand shook as she lit up a smoke and passed the pack to Harlan. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing. Do I look like Google?”
FARRELL COULDN’T FIND a spot big enough for the Silverado and parked in the next block. He reached for the door handle and Neil wasn’t moving. “You ready?”
Neil didn’t move. “Scared, I guess. Scared to meet my own mother.”
“Know what, kiddo?” asked Farrell, “I hope to hell and back it ain’t her. Save us so much grief you couldn’t fuckin imagine.”
“Think so?”
“I know it.”
Neil hesitated, then got out and Farrell locked the truck. They walked a block back to the park, then started across the narrow, paved path. Farrell saw her on the bench under a tree talking to a couple of guys and he knew.
The pain in his chest was unbearable.
JACK PARKED where he thought Annie would have a clear view of the entire area, but she needed to be higher. Much higher. Too many trees in her sightline unless she took Donovan on the sidewalk or in the street.
Annie did a walkabout and came back to the truck. That’s my building across the street.” She pointed to Powell and Associates. “I’m going to the front office and take my position. Make sure there’s only one open spot when the black pickup gets here and it’s on this side of the park.”
“Yep, good one. That will work. You go get set up.”
Annie took her leather case, slung it over her shoulder and crossed the road.
In the waiting area, Chantal, the red-headed receptionist, greeted her with a big smile. “Hi, Mrs. Powell, we haven’t seen you in the office for a long while.”
“I’m not much of an office person, sweetheart, but I could use your help with something.”
Chantal’s eyes widened. “Of, course, anything you need, Mrs. Powell.”
With the leather love seats and velvet wing chairs chock full of wealthy clients waiting to meet with their attorneys, Annie hesitated to disturb them. She leaned down and whispered to Chantal, “Could you get me the new office manager. I need to speak to her.”
“Or him?”
“Him too. As fast as possible.”
Chantal pressed a line on the inter-office system and said a few words and a young man Annie had never met, came racing towards her dressed in a well-tailored charcoal suit.
“Mrs. Powell, how lovely to meet you at last.”
“Yep, you too, sugar.” Annie corralled him back down the hallway and whispered to him. “Who has the office, third floor at the front?”
“Umm… that would be Mr. Powell’s office, although he’s rarely here.”
“Let me in there, would you, sugar pop?”
“Of course, Mrs. Powell. Do you need something from his office?”
“Nope, I just need to… look out the window.”
BLAINE ARRIVED at the park and the only spot he could find for his oversized truck was a block away. In no shape to be walking any distance, he was winded by the time he found Jack. “Is Farrell here?”
“Yep.” Jack pointed. “He and Neil are over there talking to the woman. Annie is setting up in your building. She wants only one parking spot to be available when Donovan comes.”
“Uh huh,” said Blaine, glancing across at his office. “Didn’t really think of our building across the street on this side of the block, but it’s a good choice. Keep one clear in her sightline.”
“Where are the other guys?” asked Jack.
“Circulating the park. We’re wired, are you?”
Jack nodded.
“Chief Calhoun is sending extras to clear the area of civilians. No uniforms.”
BILLY-DON drove once around the park looking for Farrell. He spotted the red Silverado but couldn’t find a place to park. Since when had Austin got so fuckin busy? On his second pass he saw a spot and almost pulled in but there seemed to be a lot of activity and people milling around on that side of the park. A warning pinged off his radar and he had a bad feeling about it. Always trust your gut. Always.
He drove on past, made a left turn and parked down a side street. Loping along casually, he made his way back.
He strolled along the sidewalk with other pedestrians, although there didn’t seem to be many for the number of vehicles in the area. He toured once around the outside of the park looking under the trees for Farrell.
Getting trapped in a small area was not for Billy D. He was too smart for that. He felt the cold steel of the gun in his waistband, pressed tight against his sweaty hot skin and it gave him comfort.
Billy-Don smiled as he spotted his son talking to a woman on the east side of the park. She looked a lot like Bec, but older. Way too old. Wasn’t her.
IN POSITION ACROSS the street, window up a couple of inches and her rifle resting on the sill, Annie watched Billy-Don slow down for the parking spot they had saved for him. He almost took the bait, then sped up and kept going. “He’s jumpy,” said Annie into her earwig. “Y’all will have to get him in front of me some other way.”
“Roger that,” said Jack. “I’ll let everybody know.”
NEIL STOOD in front of Becca and stared at her as she talked to the drug guy. Farrell stood behind saying nothing and waiting for Neil to say what he wanted to say.
Jasper looked up and said, “This is the guy that was asking about you, Bec.”
She stared at Neil and said nothing.
“Are you my mom?” asked Neil. “Rebecca Donovan?”
FARRELL HEARD laughter behind him. Unmistakable laughter—that snarky, sarcastic chuckle that came out of his father’s throat when he was about to let fly with fists, or his boots, or his favorite, the braided whip.
“Ain’t this cute. A little family reunion. A little ‘get out of jail free’ party for old Billy-Don.”
He stuck the Colt in Farrell’s ribs. “Well, too late, boys and girls. This party is moving on. Let’s go Farrell. You and I have a score to settle.”
Neil turned and swung at his father. “Don’t touch Farrell.”
Billy-Don snorted, swung his left fist and knocked Neil to the ground.
Becca jumped off the bench, knelt beside her son and touched his hair. “Are you okay, Neil?”
Neil turned and looked up at her with glazed eyes. “You knew it was me, didn’t you, Mom?”
Tears streamed down Becca’s cheeks. “Of course, I did. Did you think I wouldn’t know my own sons?”
“Is this your boy, Becca?” asked Harlan.
Becca helped Neil get to his feet. “This is Neil. The older one is Farrell.”
“I’ve got to help Farrell,” said Neil. “Dad has a gun.”
“Neil, don’t you go near Billy-Don,” hollered Becca. “He’s evil. He’ll get in a rage and kill you if you interfere with him.”
“I’m not gonna let him kill my brother.” Neil took off running through the park with Becca running behind him.
THROUGH THE TREES, BLA
INE could see Billy-Don coming towards him with Farrell tight up against him. They were walking close together, and although Blaine couldn’t see the gun, he knew it was there. He looked across the street and signaled to Annie.
When he looked back, he saw Neil running and gaining on Farrell and their father. Blaine held up a hand for Neil to stop, but Neil wasn’t looking at him. Neil was focused on Farrell and he kept running. Blaine’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the small blonde woman running behind Farrell with a gun in her hand.
No. This is no good.
FARRELL SAW BLACKY half-hidden in the trees and nodded his head ever so slightly. Blacky hooked a thumb at the building across the road and Farrell broke in that direction.
Billy-Don grabbed at Farrell’s shirt, yanked him back and snarled, “Walk slow and don’t draw attention. Do as you’re told, or you’ll be sorry.”
The words sounded so familiar, Farrell thought he was going to puke. Good idea.
Farrell stopped suddenly, folded at the waist and did a fake heave into the grass.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” said Billy-Don. He jerked Farrell up by his shirt and pushed him forward. “Keep going.”
BLAINE WATCHED THE scenario unfold. He had his Beretta at the ready, but whether he’d have a clean shot was iffy. The Rangers had done a job of clearing the area, but there were still a few civilians milling around, unaware of the little family drama playing out.
The blonde woman caught up to Neil, and Blaine heard her yelling, “Leave them, Neil. Let them work it out. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
Neil turned and hollered back at her, “What? You care about me now after all this time? It’s my job to take care of Farrell. He’s the one who always took care of me.”
Neil took off at a jog and yelled at his father who had reached the sidewalk with Farrell. “Let him go, Billy. Let Farrell go.”
Billy-Don turned and without hesitating for a moment, aimed the gun and fired at his youngest son. In that split second, the blonde woman pushed Neil out of the way and took the bullet in the chest. She fell to the ground and Neil screamed.
While Billy-Don had his head turned to fire at Neil, Blaine ran towards Farrell hollering, “Down.” Farrell dropped to the sidewalk.
ANNIE HAD her finger on the trigger and Billy-Don Donovan’s head in the cross-hairs of her scope. Her sightline was perfect from across the street. As soon as Farrell dropped to the sidewalk, she fired.
Billy-Don Donovan dropped down dead beside his son.
HARLAN DROPPED to his knees beside Becca and held her blood-soaked body in his arms. “Becca, Becca, please don’t die.” He sobbed as he rocked her back and forth.
NEIL SAT on the grass beside his dead mother, covered in her blood. The blood she had shed for him, her son. He held his head in his hands, sobbing.
BLAINE HELPED FARRELL up from the sidewalk. His foster brother covered in Billy-Don’s blood, tissue and brain matter. Blaine held Farrell’s arm and walked with him over to where Neil was sitting in the grass with their mother. No one spoke.
FARRELL LET out an animal-like groan of anguish as he collapsed onto the grass beside Neil and Becca. He reached for his brother and held him close.
ANNIE RAN ACROSS the street and sprinted through the trees. She dropped to the grass sobbing and gathered Neil and Farrell into her arms. She held them close, kissing them and whispering, “My boys, my beautiful boys.”
BLAINE TOOK CONTROL of the scene and called Chief Calhoun. “I’ve got Billy-Don Donovan dead in the park, if you want to let the Warden at Huntsville know. Nobody with him. No sign of Charlie Guthrie. Also, another casualty.” He explained about Farrell’s mother saving Neil’s life.
“I’ll send the ME and the techs, son, and I’ll give the Warden a call right away.”
“Thank you, sir. We’re securing the scene now and clearing the whole block. There are lots of Rangers here to help me if I need them.”
“How are the boys?”
“Not good, sir. Not good at all. Both parents dead in front of their eyes.”
“I can’t imagine the pain they must be in.” The Chief sounded sad. He barely knew Neil, but definitely had a soft spot for Farrell.
Rangers in street clothes taped off areas around the two bodies waiting for the medical examiner to arrive.
HARLAN RELEASED BECCA and got to his feet when the medical examiner arrived and needed space to examine Becca’s body. His face wet with tears, he trudged over to where Neil and Farrell sat under a tree and handed Neil the keys to Becca’s truck.
“Becca would want you to have her truck, kid. She don’t have much to show for life, but she loved that pink truck and she loved you guys. Cried about y’all when nobody was watching her. Just say’n.”
Still in shock, Neil stared at Harlan, then took the keys from him. “Thanks a lot, man. I don’t know who you are, but I can see you loved my Mom.”
ANNIE HERDED the boys away from the medical examiner and the body of their dead mother. “We need to go home, boys. Blaine will take care of everything here.”
Farrell nodded. “I can drive my own truck, Mom. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
Farrell nodded. “You find the… other truck and drive Neil.”
Annie and Neil walked down the next block and the pink truck was sitting there at an expired meter with a ticket under the wiper. Annie grabbed the ticket and shoved it into her purse.
Neil handed her the keys and she felt the weight of the two shiny initials attached to the keyring. “Look at this, baby. Your momma has an ‘F’ and an ‘N’ on her keys.”
“Oh my God, Mom, that is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.” Neil sobbed as he slumped into the shotgun seat of his mother’s truck.
Annie drove the pink Chevy through the city and turned onto the highway without saying a word. She let Neil cry it out, all the while hoping that Farrell was stable enough to drive alone.
They were almost to the ranch when Neil asked about a funeral for his mother. “We can’t just leave her in the morgue. We have to do something.”
“Of course, we will, sweetheart, we’ll go tomorrow and make arrangements in La Grange.”
“She loved me, Mom,” Farrell choked out the words between his sobs. “She died for me.”
FARRELL FOLLOWED the pink truck all the way from Austin to Coulter-Ross, his mind replaying the events of the day. He tried to come to grips with what had happened.
Billy-Don Donovan was dead. That in itself was a load off Farrell’s mind. He’d always lived with the knowledge that his father would one day come for him. Billy-Don always got even. It was his mantra. He bragged about it his whole life.
Rebecca Donovan had never done anything for Farrell except give birth to him, but in the end, he owed her for saving Neil’s life.
Neil wanted to know his mother, and Farrell felt bad for his brother. Neil would never get that chance.
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
JESSE GREETED Annie and Neil at the door and wrapped both of them in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Neil, that you lost your mother.”
“Thanks Jesse.” To Annie: “I think I need to go to my room for a while, Mom.”
Annie nodded, “You go ahead, sweetheart. I’ll call you when dinner is ready.”
Farrell came in moments later, and Jesse was there to greet him. “So sorry, kiddo, the way things turned out for y’all.”
“Thanks, Jesse,” said Farrell. “Have a beer with me? I could use a fuckin dozen.”
“Sure thing,” said Jesse, “let me grab a couple.”
“One for me too, cowboy,” said Annie. “Tough day all around.”
City Park. Austin.
BLAINE LEANED on the trunk of an old oak tree and watched Mort Simon zip Rebecca Donovan into a black body bag. He felt so bad for Neil and Farrell, foster brothers, but in his heart, they were his brothers in every sense of the word. His heart was about to break in half for them.
&
nbsp; Next was Billy-Don Donovan, laid out on the sidewalk in a pool of his own blood, his brains scattered around him. Blaine walked over to the corpse with the medical examiner and stood beside him.
Members of the media, who had arrived in droves and were parked on both sides of the street, saw Blaine close to the yellow tape and began shouting out questions.
Blaine held up a hand as he stood inside the tape. A thin strip of yellow plastic was all that kept the media from mobbing him.
“Can you give us a few words, Ranger Blackmore?” asked one of the reporters. He held a mic up for him.
“Escaped murderer, Billy-Don Donovan, on the run from Huntsville Prison, was taken down, as y’all can see. We’ve had no information on where the other prisoner, Charlie Guthrie, might be. He was not with Donovan here at the park.”
“Who was the other victim?” someone shouted.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell y’all that until next of kin have been notified.”
“But it was a woman?”
Blaine nodded. “Yes, it was.”
“What was Billy-Don Donovan doing here in the park?”
“I don’t know what his agenda was,” said Blaine. “We had undercover people following him, and this was his destination for whatever reason.”
“Who fired the shot that took Donovan down,” shouted a blonde with a microphone.
“One of my undercover officers,” said Blaine.
“Will the Chief be giving a statement?”
“I just spoke with Chief Calhoun. He’s in contact with Warden Willis in Huntsville and will probably have something to say to y’all tomorrow.”
Blaine left the crime scene in the hands of the forensic techs and drove to Coulter-Ross to be with his brothers.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Saturday, August 18th.
Saint Michael’s Hospital. Austin.
MASON WALL’s left hand was handcuffed to the chrome bar on the side of his bed and he was cursing at the nurse who was changing the IV in his right, when Blaine and Farrell entered the room. The Ranger posted outside Mason’s door had greeted them and asked them to sign the visitor’s log.
