by Samson Weld
“Once again, all about you.”
For a second, Ash thought Dale would throw a punch. He longed for it. Ash so wanted to smash in his face. So wanted to…
What is wrong with me?
“I think you better leave,” Ash said through clenched teeth. “Before we say or do something we’ll regret.”
“I already regret reaching out to you,” his brother sneered. “You’ll never change.”
“Good night, Dale.”
“Goodbye, Ash.”
That sounded awfully permanent. Ash watched him stomp out. A tiny voice said to stop him, to try to mend fences. He just couldn’t get himself to act.
“It’s better if he stayed away,” Ash muttered. “Shit’s about to go down.”
Chapter 28
Carpenter scowled at the brightly lit house before them. Its cheeriness grated on his nerves after the day he’d had. The dark, still waters of the lake beyond were more to his liking.
He parked in the drive and looked at Kurt in the Sable’s passenger seat. Carpenter had been forced to hot wire the car after they’d crashed the Land Rover and Wexler had escaped.
After the house had blown up, he knew they only had minutes before police and firefighters started arriving. At first glance, the Mercury Sable was the best choice out of Wexler’s stash of vehicles. The sedan’s engine developed an odd noise about halfway back so he felt lucky to have made it home.
“Get on the horn,” Carpenter said. “I want another car delivered ASAP.”
Pulling out his smartphone, Kurt said, “On it. I’ll have something on the way before I finish dinner.”
Carpenter’s stomach growled. They hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Wexler’s girlfriend had left her apartment before lunch so they’d had to follow her. The GPS tracking device they’d placed on her vehicle ensured they didn’t lose her, and that was a good thing. The last thing they’d expected was for her to meet Wexler way out in the country like that.
Our mistake was overconfidence, he thought. I really thought we had him.
On a hunch, they’d driven straight to Royce City from the farm, and then headed toward Dallas. Kurt spotted Wexler’s pickup at the hospital off the highway in Rockwall. They waited for him to leave, but more and more police arrived instead.
Rockwall city police showed up first, then the Sheriff’s Department. They were followed by a constable and finally the Texas Highway Patrol. Everyone wanted a piece of the action.
They ultimately gave up. There was no way the cops weren’t going to place Wexler in custody. Now they had to discover which agency arrested him. Carpenter expected it would be the Rockwall County Sheriff’s Department.
“While you do that, I’ll find out where they took Wexler. I’d like to snipe his ass the second he walks out of jail.”
“Now you’re talking,” Kurt said. “But you know Steinberg isn’t going to like any plan that doesn’t involve finding Wexler’s missing hard drive.”
“You let me worry about Steinberg.”
They entered the Airbnb to find Steinberg pacing in the family room while speaking aggressively to someone on the phone. He ended the call when he noticed them. The man glared at them, as if it was their fault.
“I already know you failed,” Steinberg said, holding up his phone. He paused long enough to light a cigarette with his fancy gold lighter and then took a long drag. “I just got off the phone with one of my people. You managed to kill his girlfriend, but Wexler is safe and sound.”
Carpenter stopped and frowned at him. He felt Kurt behind him, prepared to back him up in whatever he did. The angry billionaire didn’t seem to realize the danger.
“He had automatic weapons. The man threw grenades at us!” Carpenter said.
“What kind of man did you send us up against?” Kurt demanded. “Is he ex-military? Wexler fights like a Navy SEAL.”
“Exactly!” Carpenter said. “Why didn’t you tell us he’s so well trained?”
Steinberg looked incredulous. “I didn’t know. He was just an average guy five years ago, a run-of-the-mill claims adjuster. As far as I know, he never served in the military.”
“Where did he spend the last five years? Military? PMC?” Carpenter asked.
“I have no idea, but he’s over forty years old,” Steinberg said. “How dangerous can he be?”
“How dangerous?” Carpenter asked. “Maybe you should come with us next time.”
Carpenter turned toward the kitchen. He pulled a packet with two sirloins out of the fridge and started dinner while Kurt sat at the dining room table and started looking for more reliable transportation on his phone.
“Kurt, once you find another vehicle, arrange to pick up more weapons,” Carpenter said. “Including a pair of sniper rifles. MSSRs would be perfect, if you can pull it off.”
“What are you planning?” Steinberg asked.
Carpenter held Steinberg’s eyes, showing his rage and determination.
“We’re going to kill him.”
Chapter 29
Ash paused to take in all the hustle and bustle in Homicide. The place had been practically deserted the last time he’d visited. Most of the desks were now occupied, everyone either on the phone or intently studying their monitors. It could’ve been a scene right out of his old insurance job, except for all the pistols and badges.
Ash wore dark slacks and a white button-down shirt. He left his sport coat in the used car he’d just bought. The silver Mustang was fast, yet there were enough of them on the streets to blend in.
A few months ago, he’d had multiple cars, pickups, and motorcycles stashed in storage units around Dallas and its suburbs. With the death of Osorio and his murderous gang, Ash didn’t think he needed all those secret assets anymore so divested himself of those reminders of a violent past. Now he wished he’d held onto them. With the loss of the farm, Ash had to start over in both the weapons and vehicles departments.
Spotting Bellucci standing by the coffee pot reminded Ash of why he’d come to that hornet’s nest. She looked a lot better in her white blouse and dark slacks. In fact, he looked like her. At least he didn’t have a ponytail.
“Good morning, Bellucci,” he said.
She did a double take on him before checking out his clothes. Twice. Was that a tiny smile?
“You kind of look like a detective now,” she said. “But I’m not looking for a partner.”
“You’re a funny girl. Have you considered stand-up?”
“Does it pay better than being a cop?”
“It does for those who are actually funny.” She brightened up. Ash grinned. “Don’t quit your day job yet.”
“What does that mean?”
He laughed, but changed the subject. “So, what’s the latest? Have you guys found the men who’re after me? Any clue about who they are?”
“Other than being professional badasses? No, we don’t have a clue as to their identities,” she said. “The Rockwall Sheriff’s Department did find a tracking device on Deanna’s car. They’re trying to trace it back and determine who purchased it. But that’s not your concern. You need to lay low. Find a nice motel and stay put. Find a place with HBO and binge watch Game of Thrones.”
Hearing about the tracking device answered one question, but it also reminded him to turn off the GPS tracking on his new phone. Then the last part of her last comment registered.
“Why would I want to watch Game of Thrones?”
“Because that show is awesome,” she said.
“I’m more of a Law and Order, True Crimes, and Cops kind of guy.”
“Yeah, well those shows are all fantasy, too.”
He followed Bellucci back to her desk. She gave him an exasperated look.
“Listen, Ash, I can’t take you out with me. I got my butt chewed out after that incident last Wednesday,” she said. “Like I said, go find a place to hole up a few days and let us handle the situation. I’ll give you a call once we apprehend the men that killed Deanna.”
Ash stiffened. Any thought of Deanna, and her death, left him breathless and numb. It had only been two days since she died in the crossfire. Another innocent bystander senselessly killed.
“Can I at least take a look at the body of the man I killed at the storage place?” he asked. “And I’d like to look at what was found on his body? I feel there’s a clue there we’re overlooking.”
“You really do watch too many crime shows,” she said. “I have no reason to show you the body. And lots of reasons not to.”
“I’m the victim. I need to identify the body to prove it was the man that attacked me.”
Bellucci eyed him suspiciously a long moment.
“You are not investigating this case. As the victim, it’s your duty to sit back and let the police handle this,” she said. “That last thing we need is an amateur sleuth muddying the waters. This is not an episode of Murder Ash Wrote. So go find a nice safe place to wait this out.”
“I’m not good at just sitting around and doing nothing, Bellucci.”
“Lord do I know that,” she muttered. “Listen. We have this. I promise you, this is the most important case in both Dallas and Rockwall counties. Hell, after your gunfight at the OK Corral, the FBI and ATF are involved.”
“The Feds?”
Not good. Ash had done things the Feds wouldn’t like. He did not want to be on their radar.
Ash let his eyes roam up and down Bellucci’s body. Nothing salacious. She looked nice and fit. Her pistol was holstered at her waist, to the front right. Bellucci’s badge was clipped to her belt between the buckle and pistol, easily removed to flash in someone’s face.
Tricky, he thought.
Ash stepped up close. She looked surprised.
“I want to thank you for all you’ve done,” Ash said before hugging her. With his right hand patting her back, he held her tightly. “You’ve gone above and beyond. If anyone finds Deanna’s killers, I know it’ll be you.”
Stepping back, Ash stuffed his hands in his pockets and averted his face. Bellucci looked uncomfortable and waved off his compliments.
“Just doing my job,” she said. “Once you settle into a place, give me a call.”
“You’ll keep me updated?”
She shrugged. “As much as I can. We aren’t allowed to share case information with private citizens.”
“Understood. Thanks,” he said and hurried out.
Time was of the essence. He fired up the Mustang and moved out with purpose. The city morgue was over on North Stemmons. The Medical Examiner’s building was a pale, modern structure.
He checked the list of offices on the wall and found where they did autopsies. Since he arrived just as lunch was starting, he found just a single young man there. Perfect. The dark-haired man wore a white lab coat and held a bag lunch in hand.
“Good morning, sir,” Ash said. He pulled out Bellucci’s badge and flashed it. “Homicide. I need to see a body brought in a few days ago. I’m looking for the man killed at Tarpley Family Storage Wednesday.”
“Could you come back after…”
“I really don’t have time,” he said. “The clock is running out. It’ll only take a few minutes.”
Bewildered, the lab tech led Ash back to the refrigerated compartments. He pulled one open and a male body rolled out before them. Ash recoiled, not expecting the corpse to be stark naked. At least on TV they covered them with a sheet or avoided looking straight at the body. They never did close-ups of intimate body parts.
“Okay. Wow,” Ash said.
The tech nodded. “Yes, the guy was definitely well-hung.”
“That’s not what I was talking about,” Ash said, giving the tech a look. “He’s got a lot of tattoos. I hadn’t noticed them when he was dressed.”
He pulled out his phone and took a picture.
“Hey! That’s not allowed,” the lab tech cried.
The door crashed open. Ash’s head whipped around to find Bellucci striding toward him, fury in her eyes. He stealthily pocketed his phone.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Wexler!”
“You’re a good detective,” he replied. “You figured out I was coming here just like that.”
She held out her hand. Ash felt his face heat up. He managed a regretful smile as he handed her badge back. Bellucci asked the tech to give them a moment alone before she cursed him out soundly, and at length.
“I should arrest you. Do you understand that, Ash?”
“Yes. It was a stupid thing to do,” he said. “But I was desperate, but I was also right.”
“Right? About what?”
He pointed at the corpse. “Look at all those tattoos.”
Then he reached out and touched one. It was a large SS on his left wrist. The tattoo looked like two black lightning bolts. A dark symbol straight out of history books.
“We know who to look for. He’s a Nazi.”
Chapter 30
“Sit down and be quiet.”
Bellucci gave Ash a withering look. He sat without objections so she could concentrate on what she planned. First thing, she pulled up the Medical Examiner’s photos of their suspected Neo Nazi killer. Then she zoomed in so she could examine all of his tattoos.
Then, in a separate window, she checked the department’s database for known Nazis and other white supremacists. A list appeared, with their mug shots. She began comparing their pictures.
Ash pulled out his phone and started his own search. She started to object, but decided that it kept him busy and therefore out of her hair. That kind of research was always slow and tedious. Anything to keep him occupied and not contemplating going full vigilante had to be a good thing.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure him being a Nazi means anything to this case,” Ash said. “I don’t recall ever handling an insurance case involving a Nazi or white supremacist.”
“Oh, do people have to tick a KKK box when they get insurance? We rarely ever truly know people…”
He was probably right, but for some reason it felt significant to her. The men they’d fought at the storage facility were trained soldiers. They fought off a numerically superior force of cops and had escaped. The fact that Ash escaped their wrath, and even killed one of them, astonished her. Bellucci knew he was good, but that good?
“It’s the best clue we have so I have to prove there’s no connection,” she added. “Welcome to the true drudger of detective work.”
Once she had exhausted the names in the database, the detective began checking national databases. About an hour into her search, Officer Boone came in to distribute requested paperwork and files. He stopped at her desk once finished.
“I don’t recognize this,” Boone said. “Is this related to the home invasion case?”
She slanted an annoyed look up at him. He technically wasn’t part of her case and he had no right to ask. Yet, she had taken him out twice on assignments.
“One of them,” Bellucci said. She tapped the monitor over the picture of the SS tattoo. “We might have a Neo Nazi connection.”
“No,” Boone said.
Bellucci and Ash stopped and looked at him.
“What are you talking about? How can you be so sure?”
“Marine Scout Sniper. The SS stands for Scout Sniper.”
“I’ve never heard anything about Marine Scout Snipers,” Bellucci said. She glanced at Ash who shook his head. “That looks like a Nazi SS tattoo to me.”
“Well, technically I guess it is a Waffen-SS symbol, but see this tattoo over here?”
He indicated a tattoo that was definitely Marine Corps. Indeed, it was the classic Marine symbol of an eagle atop the world, with an anchor underneath. Only the planet in the tattoo was replaced with crosshairs.
“I’ve only seen scout snipers with that tattoo,” Boone said. “They are a very elite group within the Corps.”
“Are you sure?” Bellucci asked.
“Hey, I should be,” Boone said. “I served as an MP at
both Camp Pendleton and Camp Lejeune. We picked up quite a few of those boys, all drunk after a night on the town.”
Ash looked like he had a hundred questions, but she held up a hand. Boone perked up. He so wanted to be helpful, with the hope of a transfer to Homicide. Bellucci started warming to the idea. He’d been quite helpful so far and, if Boone helped her solve the case, she’d be motivated to really advocate for him.
“Boone, I’m going to make a detective out of you yet,” she said, turning back to her computer. “Jump on Cagle’s old desk and give us a hand if you can break free of your other duties.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Boone said, taking a seat and booting up Cagle’s old computer.
Bellucci promptly got him up to speed, leaving out the whole thing about Ash stealing her badge and impersonating a police officer.
I can’t believe I’m giving Ash another pass like that.
Boone’s revelation renewed Ash’s enthusiasm as well. He remained on his phone, tapping away in his independent searches. Part of her fretted over what he’d find, of even seeing him looking into the case. Technically, there wasn’t any law forbidding him from doing such research.
And he was a damn good vigilante, finding out far more about that drug lord’s organization than even the police knew. Her main concerns were he wouldn’t share what he found and that he’d try to take on the killers by himself.
And then she got a hit.
“Found him,” Bellucci said. “Just like you said, Boone. He was a former Marine Corps Scout Sniper. It looks like our dead body is one Eduardo Sanchez of Tucson, Arizona. He served in both Afghanistan and Iraq. Was awarded medals for valor.”
Bellucci went silent as she read and absorbed his military record. Most of his service was under MARSOC, or Marine Corps Forces Special Operations Command. His last assignment was with JSOC.
“What is JSOC?”
“Joint Special Operations Command,” Boone said.
“Like Green Berets?”
“That’s Army,” Boone said with supreme disapproval. “But yes. It’s Special Ops.”
