by Carolina Mac
“Who is it?” Lovell called from inside.
“Deputy Bristol, Mr. Lovell. I need to speak to you for a moment.”
Lovell opened the door and said, “I’m out on bail and you assholes can’t touch me. What the hell do you want?”
Travis barged in with his cuffs in his hand. “You are under arrest, Mr. Lovell. I need you to come with me.”
“Like hell I’m going back there.” He reached behind him and pulled a gun out of the waistband of his jeans, pointed it at Travis and pulled the trigger.
Travis hit the floor with a thud and it was lights out.
FARRELL parked his red Silverado behind Travis’ Ford and turned on the strobes so there would be no doubt about his right to park there.
“I don’t see him in the lobby,” said Blaine as he peered through the glass doors.
“Let’s go up and make sure he ain’t having problems,” said Farrell. “You locked and loaded?”
“Uh huh.”
They stepped out of the elevator on the sixth floor and Farrell broke into a run. “Smell the fuckin blood?” he hollered as he bolted through the open door of number six twelve. “Oh, Jesus, Blacky, call an ambulance.”
Farrell was on his knees beside Travis trying to stop the bleeding in his midsection when Blaine caught up. “This is bad, bro. So fuckin bad, I can’t think about it.”
“I put a bulletin out on Lovell’s Jeep. Somebody should see him. He must be still in the city.”
Travis had lost a lot of blood and a lake of it had seeped into the shitty brown carpet underneath him.
The elevator dinged and Blacky hustled into the hall to direct the paramedics. They dropped down beside Travis, talked to each other rapidly in medical jargon and eased him onto the stretcher as fast as they could.
“Where are you taking him?” asked Blaine.
“Saint David’s.”
“Go in the ambulance, boss. I’ll secure the scene and wait for the techs. I’ll be along.”
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
JESSE was sitting on the carpet in the great room playing with his baby daughter when he got the call. “Hey, Blacky, how’s the case going?”
“Ain’t worth a shit, Jesse. That asshole Lovell just shot Travis. I begged Leighton not to let him out, and now look.” Blacky was hollering in Jesse’s ear.
“Can you get Mom to bring you to Saint David’s in a while? Trav’s gonna be in surgery for I don’t know how long.”
“Yep, and try to calm down a bit, son. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
San Carlos. Panama.
RENEE, still wearing her nightie, sat on the porch of the tiny house she’d rented on the beach. A warm breeze wrapped around her and a sense of calm filled her as she stared at the vastness of the Pacific. The unobstructed panorama in front of her was so uplifting it took her breath away.
The girls would love playing in the sand.
Setting her coffee mug down, she picked up the new disposable phone she’d purchased and called her parent’s number. Her father answered on the first ring.
“Hi, Daddy, it’s me.”
“Renee, we’ve been frantic. Where are you? The police were here telling us that Max is dead. He died in a fire in the cabin, and we thought you might be dead too.”
“No, I’m okay, Daddy. What do you mean Max is dead?” She hoped she sounded surprised.
“The police said the cabin y’all rented caught fire and they found Max’s remains in the ashes.”
“Oh, my God. Poor Max. We had a huge fight and I left him at the cabin,” she sniffled. “We decided to get a divorce, and I drove to a hotel to try to think it through. I can’t believe he’s dead.”
“Where are you, and when are you coming home?”
“I’m down south and I’m not coming back until I get my head on straight, Daddy. Can you take care of the kids for a while longer?”
“Your mother is getting tired, Renee. The girls are a lot of work, as you well know, and I’m helping her all I can.”
“Please, Daddy, just a little while longer.”
“Of course, we’ll take good care of them until you get back.”
“Thanks, Daddy. I love you.”
Saint David’s Hospital. Austin.
BLAINE and Farrell, both exhausted and stressed tight as bailing wire over Travis, sat in the waiting area designated for those with loved ones under the knife. Hard chairs, bad coffee and two-year-old magazines weren’t cutting it.
The Chief had been there, red-faced and furious that one of their own had been wounded. He’d gone home for dinner but was on speed dial if he was needed before he came back to hold the vigil for Travis.
The boys were on their second Styrofoam cup of disgusting dark brew when Annie arrived with Jesse.
Blaine hopped up and hugged his mother. “Sit over here with us, Mom.”
Annie leaned down and kissed Farrell. “You okay, baby? Your face is pale.”
Farrell nodded. “I’m okay, Mom.”
“Has the doctor said anything yet?” asked Jesse.
Blaine shook his head. “Still in there. Haven’t heard a word yet.”
“How long has it been?” asked Annie.
“Long,” said Farrell, “hours. Way too long.” He got up and left the room.
“Farrell is upset,” said Annie.
“Yeah, since Travis came back, Farrell has been a bit hard on him.”
“I get it,” said Jesse, “and now he’s feeling guilty. Farrell was pissed off, and rightly so, when Travis quit the team to work for Doctor Rodriguez.”
Blaine glanced up. “He and Farrell were partners and they were a solid pair. It hit Farrell hard when Trav defected to the doctor. Should we call her?”
“How are things between Travis and her?” asked Annie.
Blaine shrugged. “Don’t know. Trav has been in silent mode since he rescued her from the stalker.”
“Wouldn’t hurt to let her know,” said Jesse. “She can take it from there. Come to the hospital, or don’t come.”
Blaine nodded and scrolled to her number. “Doctor Rodriguez, Blaine Blackmore calling. I know it’s late, but I wanted to let you know that Travis was shot today on the job.”
He heard Ginny suck in a quick breath. “Oh, my God, tell me he’s okay.”
“No, he’s not okay,” said Blaine, “He’s still in surgery.”
“Where are y’all?”
“Saint David’s.”
“I’m on my way.”
Blaine pressed end and said, “She’s coming.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Saturday, September 15th.
Saint David’s. Austin.
TRAVIS was still in surgery when Doctor Rodriguez arrived at the hospital. Wearing snug-fitting jeans and a blue silk blouse that made her olive complexion glow, she rushed into the waiting area and filled the room with her presence.
Blaine stood and offered his hand, but Ginny pulled him into a hug. “I spoke to one of the surgical nurses I know well and she’s getting information for me,” she paused, “for us… all of us.”
She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue then took a moment to recognize the rest of the group. “Mrs. Powell, Ranger Quantrall, Deputy Donovan, I wish we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances.”
The nurse returned from her mission and stuck her head in the door. The waiting room was deserted except for their little group. “Almost finished. He’s hanging on.”
“Thank you, Tina. Did you tell Doctor Winters I wanted to speak with him when he was through?”
“Yes, I did Doctor. He knows where you are.”
“Thank you.”
Ginny walked back and sat down next to Blaine. “We might as well get the facts,” she said. “I don’t like to be kept in the dark.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
IT was after three a.m. when Blaine crawled into bed beside Misty. A long twelve hours since they’d gone to Tansy Court to arrest Benson Lovell.
Ginny followed him to ICU and because of her status on the hospital board, exercised her clout and obtained permission to sit at his bedside. No other visitors would be allowed until he woke up. Twenty-four hours at the least.
Misty rolled over and reached for Blaine. “Where were you?” she mumbled half asleep.
“Go back to sleep. It’s okay.” He cuddled her warm body and was out like a light.
It felt like he had just closed his eyes when his cell sounded on the nightstand and woke him up. Blaine groped for it as Lexi whined in protest. “Blackmore.”
“Highway patrol here, Mr. B. Got a sighting on your Jeep. Down south of the city on the bypass. We couldn’t pursue at the time. Sorry about that.”
“Heading south on one-thirty. Great. I’ve got a good idea where he was going. Good job, sir.”
Surprised that it was already morning, Blaine padded along the upstairs hall to Farrell’s room and woke his brother. “Highway patrol made Lovell’s Jeep.”
Farrell groaned in protest as he rolled over and opened his eyes. “Where is the fucker?”
“He was heading for Longbow’s.”
Farrell threw back the covers. “Shit. Let’s go get him.”
Pleasant Acres. Route one thirty south.
BLAINE rounded up reinforcements before leaving for Mike Longbow’s trailer. He rousted Jack and Greg out of bed, armed them with shotguns and the four of them took off.
Farrell sped down one thirty, window down and smoking like he always did. “Wonder to me that Trav didn’t have a tag on the Jeep.”
“Could have, but we don’t have the tracker,” said Blaine. “Maybe it’s still in his truck.”
“Yeah, never crossed my mind to look for it when we had his truck towed home.”
Farrell flicked his turn signal on. “Here we are. Everybody ready?”
“Yep, we’re ready,” said Jack. “Haven’t been in the line of fire for a while.”
Farrell parked behind Lovell’s Jeep and blocked it in.
“Front and back,” said Blaine as they hopped out of the truck. “Let’s do it.”
“No bike here,” hollered Farrell as they charged the door.
“Police,” hollered Blaine, “Open the door.”
Farrell waited thirty seconds and kicked the door in. Jack and Greg had already found their way in from the back of the trailer and had run through. “Clear,” hollered Greg. “Nobody here.”
“Get forensics down here,” said Blaine. “And get Lovell’s Jeep towed to impound.”
Farrell was on the phone to the Chief filling him in. “Lovell’s with Mike Longbow, Chief. His Jeep is here at the trailer.”
Farrell ended the call and told the others. “Chief is running Longbow and getting a warrant out on him. He’s sending techs down here and picking up the Jeep.”
“I’ll check DMV and get a tag number for Longbow’s Harley.”
“Wish we had tagged it when we were here the first time,” said Farrell. “Would have been so fuckin simple.”
Brad Mulligan’s Residence. Austin.
RICK and Andy had cleared dirty dishes, glasses, mugs and pizza boxes from Mulligan’s kitchen table, so they could play cribbage while they waited for the asshole to show up.
When Jack dropped them off, they had sneaked in when no neighbors were on the street and felt confident nobody had seen them. If Mulligan had friends watching his house for him, they shouldn’t know—that’s if Mulligan had any friends.
“You hear that?” asked Rick, his fingers ready to move his red peg forward. “Sounded like a car door. Close to the house too.”
“I’ll take the front, you take the side.”
They moved silently to their posts, manned their doors and waited. Andy heard the key in the lock as he stood hidden behind the side door. He was on a small landing, three steps up to the main level and a dozen or more steps to the lower level behind him.
The door opened, and Mulligan stepped in pushing the door shut behind him.
“You’re under arrest,” said Andy as he reached out and snapped a handcuff on Brad Mulligan’s wrist. But before he could grab the other arm, Mulligan twisted out of his grasp.
“Don’t fuckin touch me,” he hollered as he punched Andy in the sternum and gave him a vicious shove down the basement steps.
Andy tumbled all the way to the bottom as Mulligan opened the side door and raced to his vehicle.
Rick glimpsed the tag number as the white Buick rental squealed out the drive and onto the road. He tried to remember the numbers as he tore down the stairs to help his partner. “Fuck, what happened?”
Andy lay at the bottom of the stairs groaning. “I think I broke my fuckin leg.”
Rick first called an ambulance and then Blaine. “Mulligan showed up and we almost had him. He’s driving a white Buick, looks like a rental with a six and a vee on the tag. He gave Andy a helluva shove down the steps and Andy broke his leg. I’m going to Emerg in the ambulance. Can somebody pick us up in an hour or so?”
“I’ll call Lil,” said Blaine.”
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE’S cell rang as Farrell pulled through the iron gate. “Yes, Mr. Moffatt. Thank you for calling. You heard from your daughter?”
“I was relieved that she called, mostly to confirm that she wasn’t dead,” said Moffatt. “Her mother had been half out of her mind with worry.”
“I understand,” said Blaine, “Did Mrs. Endicott say when she’d be back?”
“No, but she did say she and Max decided on a divorce and she left him alone at the cabin and went to find some solitude at another hotel. She sounded distressed when I told her about the fire and that Max was dead.”
“I see,” said Blaine. “If she calls or comes back home, would you let me know?”
“Of course.”
OLIVIA’S truck was parked beside the carriage house and she was loading unused bags of mulch, shovels and the rest of her equipment with the help of her assistant, Kenny.
She glanced up at Blaine as he approached and gave him a slight nod of her head. No smile.
She’ll be pissed at me for the rest of my fuckin life.
Over her tanned shoulder, Blaine could see the finished product and couldn’t believe he was looking at his own backyard. It was amazing—straight out of a gardening magazine. He wondered if Olivia had taken pictures. Trees and bushes around the perimeter, fronted by beds of flowers, a vegetable plot tucked up behind the carriage house and a gorgeous fish pond in the center featuring the Zen fountain that Carm adored.
“You did an amazing job, Olivia. Thank you so much.”
She reached into the cab of her truck and handed him an invoice. “I’m happy that you’re pleased,” she said with a touch of frost in her voice.
Blaine folded the invoice and shoved it in his pocket. “I’ll have Lil drop off a check as soon as she has one ready.”
“Thank you.” Olivia hopped into her truck and backed out the drive.
Yep. Another relationship fucked up beyond repair.
BLAINE hugged Carm in the kitchen and helped himself to a cold Corona out of the Sub-Zero. “Olivia is finished,” he said in Spanish. “Are you happy with everything outside?”
Big smile from Carm. “Si, bueno.”
“It is gorgeous, isn’t it?”
“Necesitamos comida de pescado.”
Blaine nodded. “Si.” He made a note of it on his phone. “Fish food. It’s on my list.”
Lily returned from the hospital moments later with Rick and Andy. A loud scuffling in the front hall and a round of cursing from Andy trying to navigate the slippery marble floor on crutches.
Blaine pointed to the chairs on the other side of the long kitchen table an
d headed for the fridge to get the boys a couple of cold ones. “Beer, Lil? Or do you and Carm want to crack open a bottle of your Zinfandel?”
“Wine, please,” said Lil and took two glasses from the cabinet.
“How are we gonna nab that asshole?” asked Blaine.
“Misty’s our best bet,” said Lily as she sat down with her glass. “If she gives us a hint where he’s hiding, y’all can go get him.”
“I haven’t even had time to see what he did to her house yet,” said Blaine. “We have to get a crew in to fix that mess.”
“I’ll take care of it,” said Lil. “First thing tomorrow I’ll go over with Rick.”
Rick nodded and gave Lily a smile. Blaine took note of how long Rick gazed at Lily and it made him wonder.
Is something going on with Rick and Lil?
Blaine turned to Andy. “You should take a couple weeks off and go visit family, Andy. Use the down time for a bit of a vacation.”
“My Mom’s been calling me. I might go back to Virginia for a while until my leg heals. I won’t be much good to you guys.”
“Sure. Good call.”
Misty walked into the kitchen and all discussion of Brad Mulligan came to a halt.
Saint David’s Hospital. Austin.
AFTER dinner, Farrell drove Misty and Blaine to see Travis and he wasn’t awake.
Keeping her vigil next to Travis’ bed, Ginny glimpsed Blaine peering through the glass doors and came out of the ICU to speak to him.
“Winters has decided to keep him under for another twenty-four at least to let his body rest and start to heal,” she said. “He won’t wake up.”
“Would you call me when he does?” asked Farrell. “I want to be here if he needs me.”
“Of course, I will, Deputy Donovan.” Ginny regarded him with exhaustion in her eyes. “Let me put your number in my phone.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sunday, September 16th.
Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE was on his computer before seven a.m. checking his emails and looking for the lab reports on Lovell’s apartment. Nothing yet.
