Vigilance

by Carolina Mac

  “Boss has a lot going on and I’m not doing my share,” said Lane, “I guess it’s bothering me a bit.”

  “Go ahead and spend the day with the boys. I’m not going out until later.”

  “You sure?”

  Annie shrugged. “As long as you’re back by ten. I always used to work alone, and almost always after dark. Backup only gets in my way.”

  Lane smiled. “That makes me feel indispensable.”

  THE FORENSIC UNIT had taken over the downstairs storage room in the bombed out bus terminal when Lily arrived with Misty. Blaine opened the passenger door of Lil’s Mustang and gave Misty a hand to get out. “You have dark smudges under your eyes, sweetheart, and that means you haven’t been sleeping. I’m having second thoughts about you doing this.”

  “You have to find him, Blaine. He’s a terrible person, full of hate. He wants revenge on everyone who ever harmed him more than he wants the money.”

  “That’s probably true,” said Farrell. “He’s been planning it for the past five years sitting on his miserable ass in Huntsville.”

  “Come on, Mist, but be careful.” Blaine led her through the barricade. “Watch where you’re putting your feet.” He looked down to check her shoes and cursed when he saw what she was wearing. “Fuck, Mist, you’ve got goddam sandals on and bare feet.”

  “I didn’t think to change. Sorry, Beb.”

  “There’s shards of broken glass, a lot of broken concrete and sharp hunks of rebar sticking out at bad angles.”

  “I’m being careful,” said Misty. She held his hand a little tighter as she threaded her way through the debris. “This is a terrible mess.”

  “Uh huh,” said Farrell. The door to the basement stood open and bright light flooded up from down below. The techs had Klieg lights set up. “I’ll go first in case Misty falls.”

  She giggled. “I weigh a ton, Farrell. If I fall, I’ll crush you.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Blaine spoke to Sue Jacobson and she cleared the storage room and gave her team a ten minute break while Misty did her thing.

  Blaine took Misty’s hand and led her through the door into the tiny room where Ewing Thompson had been sleeping. “Maybe just sit on the edge of the cot and see what you get, sweetheart,” said Blaine. “I don’t want you getting upset.”

  “Okay.” Four steps into the room and Misty was beside the cot. She eased down on to it and let go with an ear-piercing scream. “No. No. Don’t do that.” She grabbed her arms and hugged herself before her eyes rolled back in her head and she slipped down onto the filthy floor.

  “Jesus Christ,” said Farrell, “I don’t think she should do this anymore.” He picked her up off the floor and carried her up the narrow stairway.

  “Everything okay?” asked Sue, staring after Farrell.

  “I’ll check back later,” said Blaine, and followed Farrell up the stairs. When he caught up outside, his brother was propping Misty up in the front seat of the truck. Blaine took her limp hand and kissed it. “You should lie down in the back, Mist.”

  She shook her head. “No, we have to hurry.”

  “Why?” asked Blaine. “Do you know where Mattie is?”

  Misty nodded. “I saw her. She’s tied to a tree somewhere in Barton Creek Wilderness.”

  “Oh, fuck,” said Blaine, “that’s a lot of acreage.”

  “Maybe the dogs can find her before it’s too late,” said Farrell.

  “Let’s go.” Blaine jumped behind the wheel and Farrell sat in the back. Misty lowered her window and let the wind blow in her face.

  “Call Jesse,” said Blaine, “and tell him to meet us in the south parking lot with the dogs, then call Calhoun and have him inform Lou Thompson in holding that we’re taking an article of Mattie’s clothes from his house.”

  “Yep.” Farrell called while Blaine drove north towards Lou Thompson’s house. “Jesse is on his way. He should be there about the same time as us. Calling the Chief now.” Farrell updated the Chief. “Uh huh. “Yep, I’ve got it. Thank you, sir.”

  “What?” asked Blaine.

  “Lou Thompson insisted on a PD and got himself bail. He’s out.”

  “That’s a big mistake,” said Blaine.

  “Guess he don’t see it that way,” said Farrell.

  JESSE LOADED Red and Bluebelle into the back of the Range Rover and headed south to Annie’s ranch to pick up Lane on the way to Barton Creek. He’d called a while earlier asking if there was anything he could do to help finding Ewing Thompson, because Annie didn’t need him until later.

  Ace must have an assignment that I don’t know about.

  Jesse stopped at the gate at Coulter-Ross and Lane was waiting for him. He hopped in wearing a big grin. “Thanks, boss, for letting me come. I was getting kind of antsy.”

  “Ace have a new job?”

  “Do you mean Annie?”

  Jesse nodded.

  “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

  “Course not,” said Jesse. “Her work is classified. I have clearance, but you wouldn’t know that.”

  Lane twisted around to have a look at the dogs in the hatch. “Nice looking dogs. I didn’t know we had our own bloodhounds.”

  “Oh, yeah. Had them for a couple years. Red and Bluebelle are the best. Farrell and Travis handle them, but Farrell and Blacky will have to do it today. Travis is still on Leighton until we catch Thompson.”

  TRAVIS parked his truck at the back of the Capital Grille and checked all around before opening the passenger door to let the District Attorney out. “Clear, sir. Let’s get you inside to your meeting.”

  “With every passing day, Major Bristol, I think I’m being foolish having you waste your time like this when you could be helping Blaine in a more productive way.”

  “Protecting someone’s life, is never a waste of time, sir. Don’t think like that. Thompson is out there and every bit as dangerous today as he was yesterday.”

  “Uh huh. I suppose so.”

  They paused at the hostess station and the DA glanced around the dining room. “Do you see Catherine?”

  “I do. She’s near the back,” said Travis. To the hostess: Mr. Leighton is having lunch with Governor Campbell.”

  The girl smiled. “Right this way, sir.” She walked Leighton to the Governor’s secluded table about half way back on the left side of the restaurant. Travis stood by while the district attorney was seated and exchanged a formal greeting with the Governor, then he sat alone at a table a few feet away to give them privacy for their meeting.

  Drink orders were taken by a female server and Travis asked for a Coke. He should order food and eat while Perry Leighton ate, but his gut didn’t feel right.

  Before the server brought the drinks, a male waiter with a towel over his arm returned in her place. He hurried towards the table and before Travis recognized him with blond hair and a dark beard and trigged into what was happening, Thompson had fired off three quick shots. It all happened in a split second, and Thompson was gone, running off and disappearing through the door to the kitchen.

  Travis gave chase, through the busy kitchen dodging chefs and waiters, out the back door and up the steps onto the grounds. Thompson had a good lead and Travis could see him weaving through live oaks and the large assortment of statuary that graced the expansive park-like grounds around the Capitol building.

  Adrenaline pumping, Travis ran full out, gained on Thompson a little and fired two quick shots as soon as he had him in range. Thompson dropped at the feet of Sam Houston, but he didn’t lay there long. He struggled to his feet and took off again, running—dragging his right leg—for his truck in the parking lot.

  Travis called 911 as he doubled back to the dining room. Someone had probably called for help, but he called again to be sure.

  Where was Gene Wyman? Why wasn’t he with the Governor?

  When he reached the dining room in the Grille it was a madhouse of activity. First response was entering through the rear entrance and m
aking a beeline for the two victims.

  All those days I guarded him and what good did it do?

  Two Special Agents attached to Governor Campbell were hovering over her. Travis risked a look and couldn’t tell where the wound was. Catherine was covered neck to waist in blood. Leighton was in better shape. Back of the left shoulder.

  “Where’s Gene?” Travis asked one of the suits watching over Catherine, more attentive now than they had been.

  “Don’t know. Who are you?”

  “Bristol. Blackmore Agency.”

  FARRELL took Red’s leash from Jesse and Blaine took Bluebelle’s. They gave both dogs shirts that belonged to Mattie Larch and let them sniff the clothing for a few minutes.

  “You waiting here, Jesse?” asked Blaine.

  “I’ll follow along,” said Jesse, “just walking.”

  “Take it easy,” said Farrell, “You shouldn’t leave the parking lot.”

  “Hey, I’m a lot better,” said Jesse with a smirk, “well a bit better.”

  “I want to watch the dogs work,” said Lane. “Never been close to Bloodhounds before.”

  “Misty why don’t you stay with Jesse?” said Blaine.

  “I want to go with you. You might need me.”

  Blaine hollered over his shoulder to Lane as Bluebelle began running, “Lane, stay close to Misty.”

  “Okay, boss.”

  Bluebelle ran through a field of tall grass, then turned west and ploughed through a quarter mile of heavy bush a long way from any beaten path that the hikers and photo buffs had used. Blaine was out of breath and ready to drop by the time the big dog slowed. Bluebelle began baying like she always did when she found what she was searching for.

  Several vultures squawked in protest as they took flight, and a couple of varmints scattered as Bluebelle laid down beside Mattie Larch.

  “Farrell, run back and tell Lane to take Misty to the truck.”

  “Yeah, bro. That’s pretty brutal to look at, even for me.”

  Mattie’s head was slumped forward, her chin resting on her chest, her hair covering her face. She was tightly lashed to the tree chest high. Both of her arms had been hacked off above the elbows and she had bled out onto the ground.

  Where are her arms?

  Blaine called it in and gave directions to the wilderness grid they were in. The park ran for miles and it would take the troops some time to arrive. He reached for his smokes and his phone rang just as Farrell returned. “Travis?”

  “Thompson dressed up as a waiter and came right into the Capital Grille. He shot Leighton in the shoulder and I think by accident—the guy is a terrible shot—he missed Leighton with his second shot and hit Governor Campbell.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Travis,” hollered Blaine. “Don’t tell me shit like that.”

  “Sorry, boss. I chased him down across the Capitol grounds out front and got him in the leg, but I had to go back and secure the scene. Those State assholes weren’t doing anything.”

  “We’re State assholes too, or did you forget?”

  “Yeah, I did. Sorry, Blacky.”

  “Where did they take them. Which hospital?”

  “Saint David’s.”

  “Go get Mrs. Leighton and take her to the hospital, Trav. I’ll be along soon. Keep me updated on their conditions.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “What, bro? You look pale, even for a bandito.”

  “Thompson shot Leighton and Cat inside the Capital Grille.”

  “In the restaurant?”

  Blaine nodded. “You’ve got this. I’m going to Saint David’s and I’ll send Jesse and Lane to the Grille.”

  “What will I use for wheels when I’m done?”

  “Get Sue to drop you home.” Blaine smirked.

  “That ain’t funny,” said Farrell. “I might not be pure when I make it home.”

  OUT OF BREATH on the mile jog back to the parking lot, he met Jesse half way. “Turn around, but don’t run. We got trouble.”

  “What happened? Did you find Mattie Larch?”

  “Yeah, Bluebelle found her. Farrell’s got the scene, but we’ve got bigger problems.”

  “Bigger than another murder?” asked Jesse. He was already out of breath and Blaine slowed down even more.

  “Okay, stop and rest for a minute.” The four of them stood in the middle of the grassy field and Blaine held up a hand. “Ewing shot Perry Leighton and Cat in the Capital Grille.”

  Jesse lost his breath for a moment, then stood silently with his hand over his heart.

  “This is what we’re going to do,” said Blaine. “Jesse and Lane go to the restaurant and help Cat’s security team clean up the details. Travis has gone to pick up Mrs. Leighton and take her to the hospital, and that’s where I’m going. I’ll have Mary meet me there.”

  “Okay, we can do that,” said Jesse. “Gene can probably handle it, but we’ll help him.”

  “That’s the thing,” said Blaine. “Trav couldn’t find Gene and he’s worried.”

  “Oh, fuck,” said Jesse. “That can’t be right. He’s in charge of her security and he’s always with Catherine. Thompson could have taken Gene out first. We’ve got to find him.”

  EWING hid in the bushes until a group of tourists admiring the Tejano statues took too fuckin many pictures, then went on their way. He crouched down clutching his bleeding leg and skootched along crab-like to the parking lot. He had to get away from there and it had to be fast, because his leg was leaving a tell-tale trail of blood.

  So worth the risk to shoot that bastard, Perry Leighton. “I hope I hit him in the heart.”

  Couldn’t wait around to find out.

  The cops might be watching Kirstin’s trailer, but he doubted it. Didn’t matter much either way. He didn’t have any other options. She was the only one who would fix him up and not cause him any trouble.

  BLAINE parked in front of the Emergency door in a no-stopping zone and left the strobes on. He helped Misty down from the side step, silently cursing her sandals, and holding her hand he hurried inside. He pointed to a chair in the crowded waiting area and waited his turn at the intake desk.

  “Yes, sir, can I help you?” An older nurse wearing ‘Mazie’ on her name tag peered at him through thick glasses.

  Blaine showed his credentials. “An ambulance brought Perry Leighton and Catherine Campbell in a few minutes ago. I need to know where they are.”

  “Oh, it’s so terrible that someone could shoot our beautiful Governor in broad daylight,” she said. “Have you caught the man who did it?”

  “Almost,” said Blaine. “Please tell me where they are.”

  “Both patients are in surgery. You won’t be able to see them until they transfer to the ICU afterward.”

  “And what floor is that?” asked Blaine.

  “Fourth.”

  “Thanks, Mazie.”

  JESSE and Lane walked into the dining room at the Capital Grille and the earlier chaos had subsided. Order had been restored, privacy screens had been erected and half the dining room was closed to the public while the other half carried on business as usual.

  In their secluded back corner, the crime scene techs worked diligently gathering evidence from the scene.

  “Anyone seen Special Agent Wyman?” asked Jesse. His question drew blank looks. Nobody had seen Gene.

  Jesse looked at Lane but was in essence talking to himself. “If Gene came here with Catherine—like he absolutely would—and she was secure—sitting at her table in the dining room, Gene wouldn’t be far away.”

  “Like men’s’ room or out for a smoke?” asked Lane.

  “Uh huh. Something like that after she was seated, and he felt she was in a safe place. Let’s check the men’s room first, although surely somebody would have found him by now.”

  “You’d think,” said Lane.

  They exited the dining room and followed the washroom signs down the wide hallway. Jesse pushed the door open and pulled up short. “Sme
ll it?”

  Lane didn’t say anything.

  “Blood,” said Jesse. “Open every door. He’s in here.”

  On the opposite wall to the urinals there was a row of closed stalls. Lane started at one end and worked his way along. The fifth stall was locked. He knocked. “Anybody in there?”

  “Look under and see if it’s a guy in a dark suit,”

  Lane flopped down on his belly and looked under the door. “Yep, guy in suit flopped over sideways.”

  “Go get tools from the techs. We have to remove the door. I’ll call for an ambulance.”

  DRIVING while his leg bled like a fuckin faucet into his boot caused Ewing to sink his teeth into his bottom lip and white-knuckle the steering wheel. Could he make it all the way to the trailer park that seemed farther away from downtown than he remembered? He let out a low groan and tried to convince himself that he could.

  After stopping twice on the way to catch his breath and clear the dizziness from his head, he finally made it. Not bothering to park the stolen Chevy in Kirstin’s short driveway, Ewing left the truck on the side of the dirt road and hobbled to the four steps leading up to the deck. He tried the first step semi-crouched but standing up and hanging on to the wobbly hand rail and couldn’t do it. His leg wouldn’t support his weight. He dropped onto his knees and dragged himself like a baby onto the porch and across to the door. Two taps on the door were all he could manage.

  Kristin opened the door a crack, saw Ewing lying at her feet and let out a little mewling sound. “What happened? Did the cops do this?”

  “Help me inside, girl. Gotta get the bleeding stopped.”

  Kristin tried but couldn’t lift him. She weighed less than a hundred pounds and had no strength. Grunting, groaning and mostly dragging, she tugged him over the threshold and into the kitchen. “Wait there until I get warm water and a towel.”

  “Where am I gonna go, kid? Hurry up. I’m gonna expire.”

  Kristin was back in a flash with Advil, a glass and a bottle of whisky. “Take this.”

  Ewing complied. He downed the four white tablets and washed them down with a huge gulp of whiskey.