by Carolina Mac
Koss was medium height with short brown hair that gave him a military look, weathered skin and small dark eyes. Not handsome by any stretch. He managed a half smile and Blaine felt the vibe as they shook hands.
“Harry Koss, what can I do for the police?”
Holding his creds so Koss could see them, Blaine said, “I’m Blaine Blackmore from Violent Crime and this is Fletcher Bowden. We’re investigating a series of robberies and it would be helpful if you supplied us with a list of your installers—let’s say current employees, plus anybody who worked here in the last six months.”
Koss took a stance and Blaine knew instantly the guy had done time. “My employees are my business, Mr. Blackmore. Do you have a warrant?”
Blaine smiled. “I don’t need a warrant for a list of employees, sir. There isn’t a confidentiality issue.”
“To me, it’s an issue.” He waved an arm. “I give you a list and bingo, you go down the list questioning my men. That means they’re talking to you and they aren’t working and that costs me money.”
Blaine’s short fuse began to smolder. “Do you know what else would cost you money, Mr. Koss? Having your business license pulled by the city, or maybe an IRS audit would suit you better. Which would you prefer?” Blaine pulled out his cell and dialed.
“Fuck you, Blackmore. You can’t bluff me.”
Blaine pulled cuffs off his belt and snapped one on Koss. As he spun him around to grab the other wrist, he said, “You’re under arrest for obstruction, sir.” To Fletcher: “Secure Mr. Koss to that railing outside. He’ll be nice and handy when Rocky comes to pick him up.”
Fletcher grinned and marched Koss outside.
Koss was hollering, “No. No. You can’t do this. I don’t want charges against me. I’ll let you see the fucking records.”
Blaine smiled and motioned for Fletch to keep going. He turned to the girl at the desk. “Miss, would you get me a list of all your employees, including any that have been let go in the past year?”
Blondie jumped up and tore down the hall. She was back moments later with a printout in her shaking hand and wet tears on her cheeks.
“Thank you, Miss,” said Blaine. “What’s your name?”
“Kelly. Kelly Koss.”
Blaine nodded.
The asshole is her father.
Blaine lit up a smoke as he and Fletcher stood in front of the building and waited for the squad to pick Koss up. Five minutes passed, then an SUV with a Ranger logo pulled up.
“Hey, Rocky,” said Blaine. “Got one here for y’all.”
Koss yelled, “You can’t arrest me for protecting my employees.” He kicked at the two-hundred-pound Ranger as Rocky approached.
Rocky grinned, grabbed Koss by the elbow and propelled him into the back of his Bronco. He secured the prisoner and slammed the door.
“Book him for obstruction and give him accommodation until tomorrow morning. He looks tired. Be best if he didn’t have any phone calls to disturb his rest.”
Rocky winked. “Got it, Ranger B.”
FLETCHER LIT up a smoke in the shotgun seat while Blaine went over the list. “Most fun I’ve ever had,” he said in a slow drawl.
“Uh huh,” said Blaine, “lots more where that came from.”
“I’m pumped,” said Fletcher. “What’s next?”
“This list says there are two installation teams—two men on each—plus three others that quit or were let go in the past six months. Pass me my tablet out of my case in the back.”
Fletch twisted around, retrieved it and passed it to Blaine over the console.
Blaine typed the names and addresses in and sent it to Lily. Then he called her. “Sent you the names of the installers. Have Farrell and Hammer question all of them and bring anybody interesting to headquarters. Farrell will know which ones.”
“Got it, boss.”
“How will Farrell know which ones to bring in?” asked Fletcher.
“Farrell was a street kid. His instincts are usually right on the money.”
“Oh.” Fletcher nodded.
Blaine reached for the key and before he could start the truck his cell rang. “Fuck, not her again.”
Fletcher raised an eyebrow.
“Judge Campbell, what can I do for you?”
“I’m apologizing again, Blaine. My speech writer wants to convey my hands-on approach to making Texas a safer state to live in and I need to know I can count on you and your team to help me accomplish that. She wants to say the Violent Crime team is on board.”
“Where are you, Judge?”
“Call me Cat, would you?”
Blaine huffed a chuckle. “That might take some getting used to.”
“Try. I want us to be friends.”
That may never happen.
“Can I meet you somewhere downtown?” asked Blaine.
“Where do you want me to be?”
“Capital Grille in half an hour.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
LILY called Farrell into her office and gave him the list Blaine had e-mailed to her. “The boss wants you to question these guys and bring in any that you get a reaction from.”
“Any of these guys have a sheet?” asked Farrell.
“Haven’t had time to run them yet,” said Lily, “but I’ll do it right away and call you.”
Farrell took the list and glanced at the number of names. “Seven, and four are in teams. Hope we can find them. I’m gonna start with the ones that don’t work there any more, then do the two installation teams when they quit work.”
“Sounds good,” said Lily.
“Any luck with the window blind van?”
“Still working on that,” said Lily, “Lots of companies in the city install blinds.” She shook her blonde head. “Way too many.”
Angela’s Diner. Apache Springs.
DESPITE the cold morning, Annie rode her bike to the diner and ordered coffee. A few locals came in for the breakfast special and pointed to the chalk board above the cash. Ham and eggs with home fries and a biscuit—coffee included for six bucks. You couldn’t beat it. At least the regulars thought so.
Annie could see why the diner was a one-woman operation. Angie couldn’t afford to pay anyone else. Even the busy time was a max of two or three customers.
Every time Annie got a refill on her coffee, Angie lingered beside her table and asked more questions. Why was she in Apache Springs? Who was she looking for? How long was she staying in town? Was she staying at the New Moon? She was the town gossip, plain to see.
After two hours of waiting around and numerous trips to the ladies’ room to get rid of the not-so-great coffee, two bikers strode through the door smelling of oil and leather and fresh autumn air. They settled in the next booth, ordered coffee and both of them looked at the menu.
They spoke in whispers to each other lamenting about the boss and how they hated living at the camp in the middle of nowhere. Annie thought she heard them mention a vote but didn’t hear all of the conversation.
Are they going to vote on taking Santana out?
She left her booth, headed for the ladies’ room again, but this time she exited out the back door to the parking area and tagged their bikes. Nobody was around. The whole town seemed deserted.
She returned to her booth, waited until they paid their check, then peeked out the back door and watched them rev up their rides. As soon as they left the parking lot, she jumped on her bike and followed.
The fields turned brown as she rode higher into the mountains and the air grew crisp and much colder. Gray clouds hung low over the crests of the highest peaks and they looked a lot like snow clouds. It rarely snowed in Texas, but Annie was Canadian and no stranger to bad weather.
Staying far enough behind that they wouldn’t notice her, she watched them turn off the highway. She wouldn’t need the tracker unless they got too far ahead, and she lost them in the bush.
A half hour later, that’s exactly what happened. So many d
irt tracks through the hills, she couldn’t tell which way they’d gone. She stopped, pulled her tablet out of her saddlebag and hoped there was service. Enough. Just enough to see the bleep. She turned around, went south to the crossroads and made a right. She rode for two miles until she couldn’t go any farther. A gate stretched across the trail in front of her.
A dark-haired guy wearing a leather cut over a hoodie jumped out in front of her and waved a Blackout in her direction.
Annie smiled and asked, “Hey, sugar, am I at the right place?”
“Don’t think so, girl. You best turn around.” He stared hard at her with hungry eyes.
“I’m looking for my brother-in-law,” she said using her sweetest girly voice.
“We got none of those here.” He waved the gun again. “Turn around and find your way back to town.”
“I think I’m in the right place. Tell Santana that Annie is here. Annie Ross, his brother’s wife.”
“Boss don’t got a brother,” he mumbled.
“You’re right. Not anymore. My husband died, but I need to talk to Santana about something important.”
“Boss don’t talk much and never to women.”
“Just like his brother.”
“How’d you find us?”
“I’m smart.”
“Maybe you’re too smart.” He raised the gun and sighted her in—a threatening gesture.
She eased her right hand into her pocket and her fingers closed around the Taser.
“Can’t let you in, lady. I follow orders.”
Annie smiled sweetly as she swung her right leg up and over and hopped off her bike.
The guy shook his black head of hair. He was Latino, like Blaine. “No. Get back on your bike and take off. Last chance.”
Annie took a quick step towards him, leaned the Taser into his neck and pulled the trigger, all in one motion. As soon as he hit the ground, she flex-cuffed his ankles together, grabbed his gun out of his hand and tossed it into the trees. She opened the gate, started her bike and drove along the rough two-track.
Varmint Camp. Apache Mountains.
ANNIE slowed as she saw Santana sitting on his small deck with a beer in his hand. No question he was George’s brother. Ten years ago, they could have been twins.
She parked in front and used her boot to put her kickstand down into the hard-packed dirt. She grabbed her purse holding her Beretta from her saddlebag and ran up the three steps onto the deck. “Hey, sweetheart. Happy to meet you at last.”
She melted into an astonished Santana’s arms and kissed his neck.
SANTANA watched a turquoise Harley come out of the trees, drive along the dirt track and head straight for his trailer. His unit was the first one in the row of trailers and he planned it that way. He could see who was coming in from the road, and everything that was happening deeper in the camp at the same time.
Why the hell didn’t Roberto call me?
He checked his cell and hadn’t missed a message. He checked for service—sometimes better than others up here—and he had bars.
Whoever rode the bike had a lot of hair under that bandana. When the bike got closer he could see it was a woman.
What the hell?
He got to his feet and watched her kick down the stand, grab her purse and run up the steps towards him. That’s when he caught the first glimpse of her face and his legs nearly gave out under him.
Jesus, she is so goddam gorgeous.
There was no time for any other thoughts to enter his shocked brain before she was in his arms and kissing his neck. He missed what she’d said but didn’t care much as a warm sensation flooded through him. He held her close and didn’t want to release her. Her warmth, the smell of her. Oh, Jesus, he was so hard.
He tried for a couple of deep breaths and then asked, “Who did you say you were?”
“I’m Annie Ross, sugar pop.” She kissed his hand and held his knuckles to her lips. “I’m your sister-in-law, George’s wife.”
“Annie,” was all he could say.
Neely Residence. East Austin.
FARRELL parked in the narrow drive at the side of the frame rancher. First of November and if there had been flowers in the beds out front, there was no sign of them now. He rang the bell for the second time and the door opened a crack. “Mr. Neely? Police, we need to speak to you for a minute.”
“You woke me up,” he said, as he pulled the door open wider. “I work nights.”
“Sorry,” said Farrell, “this won’t take longer than five minutes. Mind if we come in?”
Owen Neely was short and stocky with a healthy head of brown shaggy hair. He’d pulled on a pair of wrinkled jeans and that’s all he was wearing.
“No, don’t mind.” Neely stood back and pointed to a small living room off to the left of the front door. “What’s this about?”
“Just a couple of questions,” said Farrell. “You used to work for Five-Star Security as an installer?”
Neely leaned on the back of a chair. “Yeah, I did, but it wasn’t for me. Koss has his daughter at the front and two of his sons doing installations. Not a good situation. Too much family bullshit going on and I always felt like an outsider.”
Hammer took notes and tried to keep up.
“There have been some recent robberies in Barton Hills. Did you ever install systems in that area?”
Neely nodded. “Yeah, sure. We installed all over the city. Some of the systems that Five-Star handles are fairly pricy, so it follows that we’d be in that kind of a neighborhood.”
“Uh huh. True enough,” said Farrell. “So you just quit and moved on?”
“I had to, man. Koss was impossible to work for, and when I had to pair up with one of his boys, they were just as bad.”
“Explain impossible to me,” said Farrell.
“Demanding. And he always wanted to know every detail of the houses we’d been to. If they had dogs and shit like that. My opinion—the guy is a fuckin nut case.”
“Thanks for your time, Mr. Neely.” Farrell handed him a card. “Hope you can get back to sleep.”
“What did you think?” asked Hammer when the jumped into the truck.
“Koss sounds like a good place to start. Blacky was going there first thing. I’ll call him.”
Hammer lowered his window and lit up a smoke.
“Hey, boss, what happened with Koss this morning?”
“He’s an asshole and I charged him with obstruction. He’ll be at DPS overnight. Why?”
“Just interviewed a former employee and he said Koss has his two sons and his daughter working for him and the guy is a jerk. Used to insist on knowing every detail about the houses where they installed.”
“Interesting,” said Blaine. “With Daddy out of the way until tomorrow morning, it might be a good time to bring the two sons in and let Jesse quiz them.”
“The daughter might know where they’re working if she’s the front end.”
“I’ll try her,” said Blaine.
Capital Grille. Downtown Austin.
THIS LOOKS fancy,” said Fletcher as he and Blaine waited at the hostess station. He looked down at his jeans and brushed them off.
“Don’t give it a second thought. They’re used to me eating here and I always look like fuckin ganger.”
Fletcher smiled.
“Hey, Kim,” said Blaine. “Judge Campbell here yet?”
Kim nodded her dark head. “She’s here and she took a room.”
“Jesus,” said Blaine. “I don’t have time for this.”
Kim walked ahead of them with menus in her hand and showed them into one of the small private dining rooms. “Here you go.” She placed menus in front of the boys, left the room and closed the door behind her.
Blaine introduced Fletcher. “Judge Campbell, this is one of my new hires, Fletcher Bowden. Comes to us courtesy of Travis County Correctional.”
Judge Campbell reached a hand across the table. “Nice to meet you, Fletcher. I need to kno
w all members of Blaine’s team.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Fletcher as he sat down.
Judge Campbell picked up the wine bottle near her napkin and refilled her glass. “You boys on duty, or can you have a beer?”
“I can always have a beer,” said Blaine. “I have a high tolerance level for alcohol.”
The server came, introduced himself as Philip, and scurried off to get the beer.
“When do you have to have the speech ready?”
“By tonight. There’s a dinner for me at the Hilton.”
Blaine glanced at the Cartier on his tattooed wrist. “Doesn’t give you much time. Is the speech woman a quick writer?”
“She’s competent and efficient, but I’m always on the lookout for somebody better.” She sipped her wine and set the glass down. “I heard you used to write speeches for Richardson.”
Blaine shrugged. “Sometimes, I did… when I wanted him to say something specific.”
“Self-serving little prick, aren’t you?” She giggled.
Fletcher stared at the red-headed Judge, her cleavage staring right back at him from her unbuttoned silk blouse.
“Just jot something down, and Jean can expand on it. I don’t want to use anything you’re not comfortable with. I know how pissy you can get.”
“I’m a prick and I’m pissy, Cat? This is how you’re smoothing things over?” He grinned at her.
“I’m glad your smiling, because I’m used to getting my own way in all things.” She glanced around the room like she just discovered someone was missing. “Where’s Donovan?”
“Working.”
“This is work,” she said. “Schmoozing the Governor is all part of the job.”
“I haven’t committed to you yet,” said Blaine. “I’m still not sure we can work together.”
“Of course, we can.” She turned to Fletcher. “You want to work for number one, don’t you, Fletcher?”
Fletcher colored a little and seemed relieved when the waiter interrupted to serve his beer. He grinned and pointed at Blaine. “I already work for number one.”
Blaine gave him thumbs up.
