Hole in the Heart

by Carolina Mac

  The three garage bays were a mess of oil, grease and fire hazards. Tools strewn to hell and back and very few put into the tool chests where they belonged. Not many good places to hide a gun.

  Luke took the front section—parts counter—reception—waiting area—all in one cramped eight by fourteen foot space.

  Jeff had pulled a gun out from under the counter and shot the deputy with it, but it didn’t match the gun that killed Benny Watson. They needed a bigger caliber.

  Travis wandered in after the techs had finished in the garage and asked, “Anything yet?”

  “Not here in the reception area,” said Luke, “Are the techs still working in the office?”

  “Uh huh,” said Travis. “I’ll start in the store room behind you. That’s all that’s left to do.”

  “Which vehicles parked out back belong to Joey and Jeff?” asked Luke.

  “Good question. I’ll ask one of the mechanics. They need to be searched and tagged.”

  “Wouldn’t hurt to know where the tow truck was too,” said Luke.

  Travis grinned.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin. Texas.

  BLAINE finished his coffee and picked up his cell and his truck keys from the table. Misty shook her head and tried to say something.

  “What is it sweetheart?” asked Blaine. “You look so stressed.”

  Declan pushed the notepad towards her, the one she’d been using to communicate when hand signals didn’t cut it.

  Danger.

  “Uh huh. There is added danger with the gangs kicking up.” He patted his jacket. “I’m wearing my vest.”

  Stay here.

  “I can’t stay here, Mist. The Chief wants me at headquarters. We’re having a meeting.”

  Misty continued to shake her blonde curls.

  “I’ll be okay. I promise.” Blaine leaned down, kissed her goodbye and left. He collected Carlos and Fletcher from the porch and jumped in the truck.

  La Grange.

  ANNIE texted Tyler after she cleared up the lunch dishes.

  “Can you get away on the weekend? I’m looking for flights.”

  “I want to. I’m clearing the way.”

  “Let me know.”

  “Give me another hour to talk to Paulie.”

  “Why does nothing ever work out for me?”

  Her phone rang in her hand and startled her. She almost dropped it.

  It’s him. I don’t want another job.

  “Sweetheart, I need you to take care of something for me.”

  “What is it? I’m going away for the weekend.”

  “Now is not a good time to be away.” He laid down the details of what he wanted done and Annie sighed.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin. Texas.

  BLAINE pulled into the parking lot at headquarters and turned off the engine. “The Chief is worked up about the gang thing,” said Blaine. It’s hard enough keeping the fuckers under control on a day to day without them trying to kill each other out in the open. Scares the shit out of the citizens.”

  Carlos nodded. “Chief got a plan?”

  “I wish he did, but he probably wants a plan from us.”

  “Oh, I get it. He needs the pressure off him.”

  “Something like that.” Blaine grabbed the door handle. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”

  They’d almost reached the steps at the front entrance when a black SUV slowed on the street running parallel to the front of the building. The sound of automatic weapons bit through the air with ear-splitting ferocity. Blaine dove head first onto the steps and Carlos’ two hundred pounds landed on top of him, covering Blaine’s body with his own. Fletcher lagged two steps behind the other two and flopped flat on his belly on the pavement. Glass from the shattered front doors and windows of DPS rained down like jagged hailstones and sliced through exposed skin.

  Over in seconds, yet the sounds echoed in their ears like they were in a canyon. The front doors—what was left of them—flew open and ten armed rangers stood on the steps aiming their weapons at nothing. The SUV was gone and so were the shooters.

  “Stay put,” said Rocky. Wait for the ambulance.”

  Carlos was the worst, his bare arms cut up from the flying glass. Blaine’s ribs still tender from the last time they’d been broken kicked up with brand new pain. The weight of Carlos landing on top of him might have saved his life, but probably contributed to a couple of fractured bones.

  Fletcher stood up and dusted himself off. “I got a partial tag,” he mumbled, half dazed and unsteady on his feet.

  “What did you get Fletch?” asked Ranger Ruskin. “Give it to me and I’ll piece it together. Make and model?”

  “Escalade. Black. Looked like the one at Frobisher’s scene,” said Fletch. He rhymed off the letters and numbers he’d caught.

  “That’s them,” said Blaine. “I’ve got the whole tag in my phone. He sat on the steps and pulled it up for Junie Ruskin.

  “I’ll get the alert out,” she said and went inside.

  Sirens sounded, and medics were soon on the scene for Carlos. The small shards of glass were imbedded in his skin and would have to be picked out at the hospital. “I’ll be a while here,” said Blaine. To Fletcher: “Go with your partner. I’m sending Lil with medical info and she’ll take y’all home afterwards.”

  “Yeah, boss.” Fletcher was pale and looked like he might puke, but he pulled it together and headed for the ambulance.

  Media vans had already begun rolling into the parking lot. The fuckers all had scanners and the sound of gunshots attracted them like sharks on chum.

  Once Carlos and Fletcher had gone to the hospital, Blaine crunched his way up the glass covered steps and headed inside to the Chief’s office. His breath was chugging out of him in short gasps and he thought maybe he should have gone with the boys for an X-ray. Do it later. He collapsed into a chair in front of Chief Calhoun’s desk.

  “That was too close, son. I want you out of the city for a few days until this settles a bit. Go help Farrell in Sonora. The gangs will wait. They’re like bad weather. They’re never far away.”

  “Carlos is cut up. I’ve got to check on him.”

  “Are you listening to me?” The Chief took his glasses off and Blaine noticed how pale he was.

  “I am listening, Chief, and I could use a coffee. How about you?”

  “Coffee or something twice as strong. What a shit day.”

  “Misty warned me, and I should have listened to her. She wanted me to stay at home.”

  “I wonder how she knows stuff like that?”

  Blaine shook his head. “No idea. I’ll be right back. I’m getting bad coffee for both of us.”

  Sonora. Texas.

  AS SOON AS Joey Golden was booked and locked up in a holding cell, Farrell called the number Sheriff Oxford had given him for Brooke Morales. She said she’d called in to work and was home for the day. Farrell wrote down the address and drove to her apartment.

  Brooke Morales was a beautiful Latino girl with long black hair, lovely coppery skin and dark eyes. Her eyes were slightly puffy and red-rimmed from crying, but she tried to smile as she opened the door and let Farrell in. “I have coffee. Can we sit in the kitchen?”

  “Sure,” said Farrell. “Anywhere is good, and I’d love a coffee.”

  “Cream and sugar?”

  “Uh huh.”

  Brooke fetched the cream from the fridge. “I already told Sheriff Oxford the whole story, I don’t have anything to add.”

  “You’re asking why I’m here?”

  “I guess so.” She sat down across from him and picked up a tissue.

  “My boss has reopened several cases of missing girls in the Sonora area and I’m trying to link them together.”

  “You mean link—like a serial killer?”

  “Along those lines.”

  Brooke made a little mewling noise and stifled a sob. “That means some maniac might be hurting Robin right this minute.”

 
If she isn’t already dead.

  “That’s why I need your help, Miss Morales. Was Robin dancing with Jeff or Joey Golden at the roadhouse?” He unfolded a picture he’d enlarged from Joey’s mug shot. A little gray and grainy.

  “Which one is he?” she asked.

  “Both. They’re twins.”

  “I think somebody like that was at her table, but it was pretty dark in there.”

  “Low level lighting. Uh huh.”

  “Is he the serial killer?”

  “I don’t know. He’s a suspect. I have Joey in custody and his brother is in the hospital, so as of this moment they’re not a threat.”

  “I don’t know them and I’m not sure if Robin knew any of the guys at her table. She was drinking too much, and she never did that. At least, not when we’ve been out together in the past.”

  “Did Robin have a car?”

  “It’s in the parking lot. I drove it home when she wouldn’t come with me.”

  “Do you know the make and model?”

  “It’s blue and I think it’s a Honda.”

  “Do you know if she ever took it to Twin Auto for service or repairs?”

  “I don’t know, I’m sorry.” Brooke dabbed at her eyes.

  “No problem,” said Farrell. “Thanks for talking to me. You’ve been helpful.”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. Please find her. I’m so worried.”

  “I’ll do my best, Miss.” Farrell touched the brim of his hat like he’d seen Jesse do a thousand times. He took the elevator to the lobby then took a detour to tenant parking and searched for Brooke’s Honda. Not many cars in the parking lot. Most of the tenants were at work.

  There it is. Blue Honda.

  Farrell strode across the lot and checked the driver’s side of the windshield. Bingo. Oil change sticker from Twin Auto. He took a picture of it on his phone and sent it to Jesse.

  He was halfway back to the sheriff’s office when Oxford called. “Jeff Golden died on the table. He didn’t make it through the surgery.”

  “Notification?”

  “Not necessary,” said the sheriff. “His father was in the waiting area.”

  “I’m almost at your office. I’ll tell Joey.”

  “I’ll should be back there in ten minutes,” said the sheriff.

  Before getting out of his truck, Farrell called Travis to see if they had finished the search.

  “All done, boss. Nothing here unless the techs have something they haven’t told us about yet.”

  “Go to the barbeque place and order me a draft. I’m twenty minutes from being there and I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

  TRAVIS PARKED at the barbeque place they’d been frequenting, and his cell rang. “Go on ahead, Luke and get us a table.” Luke hopped out and Travis said hello to Annie. “What’s up, Annie-girl?”

  “I have a job and I need you here. Can you leave Farrell?”

  “Umm… we’re having a break in about ten minutes and I’ll run it by him. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Pointless if you can’t come.”

  “True. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Promise.” He joined Luke inside and the first round of drafts were on the table.

  FARRELL trudged downstairs to the holding area and stood outside Joey Golden’s cell for a moment listening to him snore.

  The deputy on duty wandered Farrell’s way. “Need him awake, Ranger Donovan?”

  “Yeah, I do. Have to tell him some bad news.”

  The deputy opened the cell and rousted Joey awake. Joey woke swinging and cursing, and the deputy jumped back out of range. He stepped out of the cell and locked it.

  “Why’d you wake me up, asshole? This one of y’all’s fucked up jail games?”

  “Joey, I’ve got some bad news,” said Farrell.

  “Nothing could be worse than me sitting in this hell-hole.”

  “This might be a close second, Joey. Your brother didn’t make it through surgery. He died on the table a few minutes ago.”

  “You fucking liar,” Joey screeched so loud his throat was hoarse. “You’d say anything to get to me, wouldn’t you?” He lunged at the bars and growled like a caged gorilla.

  Farrell turned his back and stomped up the stairs.

  While he waited for Sheriff Oxford to return from the hospital, Farrell smoked outside in the designated area. To the right of the office entrance there was a bench and a receptacle. Farrell planned to touch base with the sheriff as a courtesy, mention his interview with Miss Morales and tell him that the missing girl had also been a customer of Twin Auto, then he needed a beer and some food before calling Jesse and giving him a full report.

  The Sheriff pulled in and parked in his designated spot under a tall ash tree and not two seconds behind him, right on his tail, was the old truck from the Golden farm—the father’s truck. Without paying too much notice to the old truck, Sheriff Oxford stepped out of his vehicle and strode towards the building. His deputy hung back and stood beside the squad talking on his cell.

  Old Mr. Golden jumped out of the pickup with a shotgun in his hand and ran faster than an old man should’ve been able to run. He zipped through the line of parked cars endeavoring to get a clear sightline on the Sheriff. “You assholes killed my son,” he hollered and levelled the shotgun at Sheriff Oxford’s back.

  Bang.

  The old farmer dropped to the pavement with a hole in his forehead.

  Sheriff Oxford pivoted around, not having a clue he’d barely escaped being shot.

  The deputy was on the run from the parking area, having witnessed the whole scenario. “You okay, Sheriff? That maniac was about to kill you dead.” He offered a hand to Farrell. “Nice shot, Dead-Eye.”

  “Thanks.”

  I hate it when they call me that.

  He handed off his SW to the deputy and escorted a shaky Sheriff Oxford to his office. Before leaving the building, Farrell ran downstairs to holding and hollered through the run to Joey. “Your Daddy came to kill the sheriff and I put one in his head. You’re all alone now, asshole. Chew on that.”

  LUKE AND TRAVIS were on their third draft by the time Farrell made it to the barbeque place. “I thought you said twenty minutes, boss.” said Luke. “We didn’t know if we should order or not.”

  “Bit of a complication,” said Farrell as he slid onto a chair. “Old man Golden came to kill the sheriff after Jeff expired in surgery.”

  “Oh, shit,” said Travis. “Did you take him out?”

  “Had to,” said Farrell. “The old prick was running straight at Oxford with a shotgun.”

  After a big meal of ribs, brisket, potato wedges and a couple of coffees Travis tested the waters. “Annie needs me. What’s the time frame here?”

  “Only Joey left and he’s temporarily out of the picture. He won’t be arraigned until tomorrow morning. Luke and I will search the farmhouse tonight, and if nothing turns up, I’m stuck. I’ve got nothing solid linking Joey to any of the girls. Sure, we’ve got complaints and journal entries and oil stickers, but no weapon and no bodies.”

  “We need to know where he’s stashing the bodies,” said Luke.

  “Maybe Misty could help with that,” said Travis, “if you had something from the new missing girl and Lauren Maxwell.”

  “Uh huh. Good thought,” said Farrell. “I’ll get that for you now. Wait at the hotel for me.”

  WHILE TRAVIS waited at the Hampton Inn for Farrell to collect the girls’ clothing for Misty, he called Annie and let her know he was coming. “Should be back by dark, A-girl. We on for tonight?”

  “Come to the ranch for dinner and we’ll make a plan.”

  “Best invitation I’ve had all day. See you in a few hours.”

  FARRELL CALLED Mrs. Maxwell and Brooke Morales from the parking lot of the restaurant and told them what he needed. It took him half an hour to collect the articles of clothing and drive back to the Hampton Inn.

  Travis was waiting in the room with Luke when Farr
ell arrived. They were chewing over the case at the table by the window and Luke was hard at it making notes of what they had and what they needed. What they needed was a much longer list than what they had. Joey and Jeff had been careful.

  “Here you go,” said Farrell. “I marked them. This shirt belonged to Robin Dawson—she’s the most recent one—and this blouse belonged to Lauren Maxwell. Mrs. Maxwell had washed everything belonging to her daughter, but Robin’s shirt is out of the laundry hamper and may give Misty better results.

  “At least it will for the dogs,” said Travis, “if we ever get that far.” He put the clothing into the plastic laundry bag supplied by the hotel and picked up his duffel. “I’ll have Blacky call as soon as Misty does her thing.”

  Austin.

  LILY took care of the paperwork at Saint Michael’s, then waited with Fletcher for an hour while a doctor and a nurse picked glass fragments out of Carlos. His bare arms took the worst of it and he had gashes needing stitches on both arms. The back of his head and his neck caught a couple of shards and his neck seemed to be bothering him the most. As soon as he was ready to go, Lily drove him home.

  “Thanks for waiting for me, Lily,” said Carlos. “Appreciate it. I’d ask y’all in but I feel like sleeping.”

  Lily smiled. “You should be sleeping. I’ll drive you on Monday to have the stitches checked.”

  “I can drive myself,” said Carlos. “I’m a big boy.”

  “Wait and see,” said Lily. She winked at him as he got out of her car.

  BLAINE worked in his office at home on the Chief’s orders. Calhoun wanted him out of town and Blaine was thinking about it, but he hated to abandon the people he loved in case—just in case. His cell rang, and it was Travis. “Hey, Trav, what’s up in Sonora?”

  “Lots. Coming back now and I’ll catch you up.” He told Blaine about the clothes he was bringing for Misty. “The boys need the bodies, boss. They’re stuck.”

  “I’ll talk to her and see if she can do it. Since… well, she’s not the same and might never be.”

  “Yeah, I understand.”