by Carolina Mac
ANNIE had pounded the gas since they left Stockton in an effort to keep right on Santana’s ass. Now the gauge was on empty and she’d lose time filling up.
She pulled up to the pumps and turned off the engine. “How far behind him do you think we are, Jack?”
“Not more than a few minutes—maybe ten at the most. Let’s get a drink and a snack while we’re stopped. I could use the bathroom too.”
“Sure,” said Annie, “a full stop, then we’ll catch up.”
Angie’s Diner. Apache Springs.
JACK slowed when he saw the Crime Scene van parked on the main street. “Yellow tape across the door.” He pointed, and Annie turned her head to look.
“I wonder what happened?” asked Annie. “I ate in that diner a couple of times when I was looking for Santana. Angie was nice to me.”
“Do you want to take the time to find out?”
“It’ll only take a second.”
Jack pulled over and Annie hopped out. A couple of senior citizens were peering in the window trying to see what was going on inside and Annie asked them what had happened.
“Somebody killed Miss Angie,” said the old guy. “We came for breakfast like always and the diner wasn’t open.”
“Somebody killed her?” Annie could hardly believe it. “Was it today?”
“Nope, not today. Miss Karen found her. Sick, she was. Beanie Waters said Miss Angie was such a sight it made Miss Karen Moon sick.”
“Oh, no.” Annie ran back to the truck and jumped in. “Somebody killed Angie, the lady who ran the diner.”
“Why would they? Was it a robbery?”
Annie shrugged. “Keep going north until you get to the New Moon Motel. The lady who runs the motel found Angie according to the old guy on the street. I’ll run in and ask Karen.”
“Should we waste time on it?” asked Jack. “Do we need to know?”
“We need to know if the Varmints killed her.”
Jack nodded. “You’re right. We need to know that.”
New Moon Motel. Apache Springs.
ANNIE found Karen Moon in the motel office with her head resting on the counter, her notepad and pen beside her.
Karen lifted her head when she heard the door open. “Annie, I didn’t expect to see you here again.”
“I didn’t expect to be here either, but here I am.” She patted Karen’s arm. “I heard what happened to Angie. That must have been a shock for you finding her.”
Karen straightened up, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. “I’ve been crying for two days,” she said in a whisper. “I’ve never seen anything so terrible in my whole life. You couldn’t imagine.”
I think I could.
“Do the police have any idea who did it?” asked Annie.
“I don’t think so. Sheriff Dobson was with me when we found her, and he didn’t seem to have any idea.”
“Where’s the Sheriff now? I didn’t see his SUV on the main street.”
“I haven’t seen him since that day,” said Karen. “Deputy Waters picked him up after the Sheriff brought me home in my truck because I couldn’t drive, and they went somewhere together.”
“But you don’t know where they went?”
Karen shook her head and her brown curls bounced into her eyes. “He didn’t tell me where he was going.”
“Thanks, Karen. Save me a room. One with two doubles. My bodyguard is with me.”
“I’m so glad you’re staying. I can’t sleep and don’t want to be alone here again tonight.”
“Lock the doors until I come back.”
Karen slid a key across the counter. “Take number twelve again.”
Varmint Camp. Apache Mountains.
DUSK hung gray and frigid over the pines as Santana stopped his bike in front of the gate and dismounted.
Roberto stood at the left side of the gate smoking, his Blackout slung carelessly over his shoulder. He stared in disbelief at the tall silhouette approaching out of the gloom.
Santana drew his weapon and smiled at Roberto. “How’d you vote, kid?” Santana fired, and Roberto didn’t get a chance to tell him.
Santana hopped back on his Harley and drove along the narrow track between the snowbanks. He made a quick stop at his own trailer, parked his bike and picked up his shotgun and more ammo for his Colt. A rough plan was forming in his head, but whether it would work or not remained to be seen. If it didn’t work, he was dead anyway, so he might as well give it a shot. The odds were not in his favor.
Darkness had fallen when he stepped onto his deck, and in the mountains, darkness meant pitch black. If there was no moonlight, you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face. From where he stood, Santana could see lights shining from the clubhouse. Probably a poker game going on. Always poker. The boys loved to play Hold-em. Tonight, the stakes would be higher—much higher.
His Harley boots crunched on the frozen snow as he strode towards the clubhouse—once his dream—now he didn’t give a shit if any of it was ever finished. Funny how things change. His heart had ached all the way from Austin, knowing what he had to do, and knowing when it was done, he couldn’t go back to Annie. There was no going back.
These men were his men—his club and they had sold him out. Their betrayal was punishable by death. They all knew it. It was spelled out in black and white in the rules. Santana inhaled a lungful of frigid air and pushed the door of the clubhouse open.
He closed the door behind him and the room fell silent.
JACK drove up to the gate and the headlights of the truck illuminated Roberto’s body on the snow-covered ground. The gate stood wide open, but Roberto lay sideways across the narrow road. There was no room to go around him in a truck.
Jack hopped out, rolled Roberto off to the side and slid back into the driver’s seat. “He hasn’t been dead long. He’s still warm. Santana must be just ahead of us.”
“I wonder who killed Angie?” asked Annie. “Gage is the heavy. It was probably him.”
“Why would they kill a waitress?” asked Jack as he steered through the narrow opening trying to avoid hitting the snowbanks. “Unless she was a direct threat for some reason.”
“She liked to gossip with all her customers,” said Annie, “but I don’t see her as a threat to the Varmints.”
“We don’t know it was the Varmints. Maybe she had other enemies we know nothing about.”
“I guess that could be true,” said Annie, “but all the customers seemed to like her.” She shivered and turned the heat up a notch. “Did you let the DEA know about the lab?”
“Uh huh, but I don’t know when they’ll arrive. When I talked to the field agent in El Paso he was putting a crew together as fast as he could. Hope they get here tonight to take it down. They thanked you for the information.”
“Hey, it’s my job,” said Annie.
“Not exactly your job,” said Jack. “Just a sidebar.”
Annie giggled. “Yeah, a sidebar.”
“Your job is cut and dried, sweetheart. Unlike the rest of us.”
Annie zipped up her jacket and pulled a black watch cap down low over her long black hair. “Let me out anywhere along here in front of the trailers and wait until I’m out of sight and in position before you do anything heroic.”
Jack chuckled as he slowed down. “I’m invisible remember? My heroics go unnoticed. The bad guys rarely see me.”
“They can’t see me,” said Annie. “I’m not here.” She reached into the back of the truck for her Remington with the night scope.
“Good luck,” whispered Jack.
“Six pack when we’re finished.” Annie disappeared into the blackness.
JACK left the truck in front of Santana’s trailer and took the long way around to the back of the clubhouse, ploughing through knee-high snow and pushing through evergreen branches weighted down with inches of white icing. The night was brutally cold. No wind. No moonlight. He trudged towards the light shining from under the plastic tarps covering the clu
bhouse windows. A moth edging closer to the flame.
When he was close enough, Jack risked a peek through the back window. He pulled the tarp back an inch and took stock of the interior. He needed to know where he was going, the fastest way in and out, and he needed to move quickly if he didn’t want to die in the Apache Mountains.
Jack pulled out his Seal knife to be ready, and hoped he was up to the task. The only one he wasn’t worried about was Annie. She was number one in her field and she left no room for error. He’d never known a woman so cool under pressure. The ice in her veins amazed him. She would do her job calmly and cleanly and be waiting for him in the truck.
ANNIE worked her way around to the end of the clubhouse building—the end farthest from the road—where she would have the most cover. The snow was deep where no one had walked, and Annie had almost made it to the window she’d chosen when she tripped over something in the dark. She brushed away a layer of new snow and saw it was a frozen body. She peered through her night scope and stared at the face of Sheriff Dobson—at least she thought it was Dobson—she’d only seen him once from a distance. There was another body close to Dobson. The deputy. Guess neither one of them would be giving her and Jack a helping hand.
She sighed and continued to the window with the most central location. She pulled off the duct tape holding the tarp in place and eased the barrel of her Remington through the opening.
Through the sight she could see Santana holding a shotgun on Hondo. Leaning in closer, she strained to hear what Santana was saying. All the Varmints were sitting around a poker table staring at their president, none of them moving a muscle and none of them saying a word.
Santana began yelling. “The price of betraying the president of the club is death. Everyone knows the rules and the ones who should know the rules better than anyone else are the VP and the Sergeant at Arms.” He waved the shotgun at Hondo and Gage in turn.
“We didn’t betray you, boss,” said Hondo. “We thought you were dead. Honest, we did.”
One of the poker players, a Hondo supporter, pulled a gun. He aimed at Santana and fired. Terrible shot. The bullet lodged in the wall three feet over Santana’s head.
Santana never moved—never even flinched. He smiled, looked Hondo right in the eye and pulled the trigger. The shotgun blast hit Hondo in the face and knocked him backwards off his chair onto the floor.
Stray pellet’s hit Varmints on either side of Hondo and the men jumped away, hollering in pain and looking for something to stop the bleeding in their arms, necks and shoulders.
The rest of the Varmints were on their feet, cursing and yelling and pulling weapons out of their belts.
Two shots came out of nowhere while the Varmints ran around in a panicked frenzy.
Pop. Pop.
Brains, blood and tissue rained down on the poker table and two more Varmints lay dead on the floor of the clubhouse. Santana and Gage. Headshots both of them.
Jack ran inside with his weapon drawn and shouted, “All of you line up against that wall and put your weapons on the floor if you don’t want to end up like those guys.” He pointed at Santana and Gage, both missing substantial parts of their heads. The Varmints were reluctant to give up their weapons, but Jack paced back and forth in front of them encouraging them to comply with his orders. Knowing Annie had him covered and would drop any Varmint who tried anything, made him feel a little more confident.
Once the Varmints had laid their weapons on the floor and Jack had kicked them out of reach of the bikers, he picked one of the Varmints and pointed at him. “You, take these and cuff all your buddies.” He handed the Varmint a package of flexicuffs.
“Fuck you, I ain’t doing that.”
“Do it,” said Jack.
“I ain’t doing it and you can’t make me.” The guy turned his back on Jack and took off running for the door.
Pop.
He dropped like a stone.
Heads turned. All the Varmints tried to figure where the shooter was, and they argued about it.
Jack pointed to another one. “You, do it.”
The Varmint grabbed the pack of plastic cuffs and got busy.
Sirens sounded, and Jack said, “The DEA is here to take down your lab. Nobody move.”
Seconds later a mass of men in DEA jackets swarmed the clubhouse. Jack spoke to their team leader and turned the scene over to them. The alphabets would take all the credit, but he didn’t care. Glory was not his thing.
ANNIE was asleep in the truck when Jack came back. He started the engine, turned around on the narrow track and headed towards the gate.
“Get everything all wrapped up, sugar pop?”
“Yep, the field agent has taken over. We’re out of here.”
“I got us a room at the New Moon. Two beds. So don’t think I’m going to jump your bones, Jackie.”
Jack was almost too exhausted to laugh.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Friday, November 16th.
New Moon Motel. Apache Springs.
ANNIE rolled over, pulled the covers over her head and ignored the knock on the door.
“I’ll get it,” said Jack, sounding wide awake. “Might be important.”
Annie heard two male voices mumbling, then nothing. Then she heard Jack in the shower.
“Back in a few,” said Jack. He left the room and closed the door behind him.
Annie checked the time on her phone. Not even seven thirty. She struggled out of bed and stood under the shower to wake herself up. After she dressed and dried her hair, she wondered about coffee. After the rough time Karen had been having would she feel like making coffee for her guests?
Only one way to find out.
Annie thought about running the few feet between her room and the motel office without a coat, but then thought better of it and put her jacket on. Her truck was parked where she’d left it, so Jack had obviously gone off with someone else. Maybe one of the DEA dudes. After all they were birds of a feather—all alphabet guys—only the letters were different.
She stepped into the motel office and could smell a heavenly aroma coming from the kitchen. Something was in the oven. Karen was definitely baking. Good news, because Annie was starving. Hungry when she went to bed after her little romp around in the Apache Mountains and even hungrier when she woke up.
Karen heard the door and poked her curly head into the office. “I’ll get you some coffee, Annie. The muffins have five more minutes.” She waved her arm. “Why don’t you come in the back and talk to me while you wait?”
“Thanks, Karen. That’s nice of you.”
“I slept better knowing you and your bodyguard were here. I had the shakes for the past couple of days and I felt scared—like I might never be unscared ever again.”
“That can happen after you’ve had a bad shock,” said Annie. “It happened to me when my son was kidnapped. After I got him back I felt like I could never sleep or let my guard down ever again.”
“Oh, my God, that must have been terrible. How old was he when that happened?”
“Three.”
The bell tinkled, and Karen went into the office to see who it was.
“Hello, Miss Moon, I’m, Warren Costello, the new Sheriff for Apache Springs replacing Sheriff Newcombe.”
Annie stood at the doorway and listened.
“Have you made any progress finding out who killed Angie?” asked Karen.
“I think we can pretty well close that case, Miss Moon. The feds came in last night and took the Varmints down and destroyed their meth lab. We’ll be better off without them around Apache Springs.”
“Do you know which one of the Varmints killed her?”
The new Sheriff shook his head. He was an older man, in his early fifties, tall and slim with a weathered complexion. “We might never know that, Miss, so many of them are dead.”
Karen paled and gripped the edge of the counter.
“I wanted to thank that Federal Agent,” said the Sheriff, “I think h
is name was Jack. Is he still here?”
Karen turned and asked Annie, “Is your friend Jack in the room, Annie?”
“No, he went out with another agent.”
“Well, tell him thanks for me when he comes back. He rid our county of some bad problems.”
“I’ll tell him,” said Karen. “Are the bikers all gone?”
“All gone to jail, and the DEA agents found Sheriff Newcombe’s squad car back in the bush behind the meth lab. I don’t think he and his deputy got off too lucky. They also found Sheriff Dobson and his Deputy from Sierra County. They froze to death out behind the biker’s clubhouse.”
Karen put her hands over her face. “Oh, no. What a terrible death.” She grabbed a tissue and wiped her eyes. “Someone should let Doris Brown know. I think she’s keeping Sheriff Newcombe’s service center running, hoping he’ll return.”
The Sheriff nodded. Guess I should go break the news to Ms. Brown.”
“Poor Doris will be devastated,” said Karen. “She was quite attached to Stan Newcombe.”
I-10 Heading East to Austin.
ON THE WAY home, Jack and Annie were both tired from the trip and from their assignments, but now Apache Springs could go back to being the quiet little town where nothing ever happened.
Angela Schumacher, plus two sheriffs and two deputies had been killed for no reason except to get them out of the way and no one would have been held accountable.
“You’re quiet, Annie.”
“Just tired, Jack. And I want to get home to my family.”
“Does it bother you when your assignment is somebody you know?” asked Jack.
“I wouldn’t have the assignment if the targets weren’t known murderers who’d been under surveillance for a long while,” said Annie. “And there’s other criteria in place that I know nothing about. My work is classified, and I seldom question it. The names aren’t pulled out of a hat.”
Jack chuckled. “I know that.”
“As far as Santana goes, my only regret is Bianca. She’s my mother-in-law and I love her, but I did my best to make sure she had one last visit with her son.”
