by Glenn Trust
Her eyes fluttered open. “Reynaldo,” she managed to whisper. “I knew you would come.”
“Who?” Sandy turned to glare at Claire. “Krieg?”
“He came home, not long after you left. I watched from the window. There was already anger on his face. I could see it even from here. Then I saw Doyle stop him and speak to him. He pointed here to the guesthouse. The next thing, Krieg came across the yard and …” Claire nodded at Jacinta and closed her eyes, her voice a whisper. “This is what happened. I tried to warn you.”
“I’m taking you with me.” Sandy put an arm under Jacinta to help her from the bed.
Claire pulled at him from behind. “Sandy, you can’t. You must go. He said he would be back. If he finds out you were here …”
“What?” Sandy stood to face her. “He’ll beat me too?”
“No.” Claire shook her head. “He will kill you.” She nodded at Jacinta. “And her. Please go before you make things worse.”
“Stay out of my way, Claire. I’m taking her with me.” A thought occurred to him and the same look of disgust he had shown his mother crossed his face. “You are part of this, aren’t you? You help him.”
“There are things you don’t understand.”
“Stop!” His shout startled Claire to silence. “My mother said the same thing! I understand she is a prisoner here.” He shook his head. “She is coming with me.”
“Don’t be angry with your mother, Sandy. She was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
Claire started to speak and then shook her head, uncertain what he had heard from Isabella. “Whatever you think now, your mother loves you. She has tried to protect you all these years.”
“Protect me?” he hissed. “From the truth?” He shook his head. “Get away from me.”
Pulling the blanket from the bed, he reached down to touch Jacinta’s arm. “Can you walk?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Not fast, though.”
She could barely stand. The look of hopeless terror in Jacinta’s eyes overwhelmed Claire, and for one moment, she was ashamed enough to put aside her own fears. “Yes. Take her away from here, but go now and go quickly. If he finds you, he will kill you both.”
Sandy turned to her and found her face changed, the fear replaced by resolve. “And you? What will he do to you?”
“I will tell him you forced your way in, and I could not resist. But you must go quickly. He left but he will be back at any time.”
Together they eased Jacinta up from the bed. With an arm around, her Sandy walked her to the back door.
“Where is your truck?” Claire asked.
“Behind the cattle pens.”
“Go get it. Drive across the back lawn and bring it to the rear of the guesthouse. It will be quicker that way. She cannot walk fast, and if someone sees you, they will stop you.”
He hesitated. Jacinta patted his arm. “Do as she says. She is right. I cannot walk fast.” She nodded. “I trust her.”
Sandy raced from the guesthouse back porch to his pickup. A minute later, he was roaring across the lawn, tearing out clumps of grass as he slid to a stop.
Claire helped Jacinta down the steps. They stood for a moment beside the truck, and Claire held her close, whispering in her ear, “Ten cuidado, pequeña.” Be safe, little one.
Sandy came around the truck to lift Jacinta into the passenger seat then turned to Claire. He looked into her eyes, searching for the secrets that she and his mother had kept from him.
“Thank you, Claire.”
“Don’t thank me. Go!” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Go away fast, before he comes back.”
Sandy climbed in beside Jacinta, threw the truck in gear and sped away across the lawn and out to the county road. He worried they would never get off the Krieg ranch before being spotted. With a jerk of the wheel, he skidded onto a dirt trail that led off into the hills.
When they were out of sight from the main road, he slowed and reached for Jacinta’s hand. Her fingers curled gently around his, and he turned his head. Bruised and swollen as she was, she managed a smile.
“Thank you, Reynaldo.”
He lifted her hand and brushed her fingers with his lips. “I won’t let them do anything to you.”
“I believe you.” Her smile seemed brighter for an instant. “Where will we go?
“Someplace safe.”
55.
Enough was Enough
“What’s’ up?” Claude Brainerd pulled up beside Tom Krieg’s pickup. He looked around and then back at Krieg, curious. “And why the hell did you want me to meet you out here?”
They sat at on the shoulder of a gravel path five miles off the county road. It ran alongside the barbed wire enclosing the range where Krieg pastured his cattle. Several steers jostled for position around a nearby galvanized stock watering tank fed by a well pump.
Krieg watched them and ignored Brainerd’s question, the ferocity still smoldering in his eyes. Piled on top of everything else going on, Brewer digging into his business, and then Isabella’s bastard trying to take what was his, Tom Krieg was a volcano on the verge of erupting.
He’d taken care of Brewer’s smug self-assurance. Now, he had a job for Brainerd. After, he would go back and finish what he started with the girl.
Brainerd waited. When Krieg was like this, he was dangerous. He was as likely to vent his anger on the deputy as anyone else. Minutes passed before the fury subsided enough for him to speak through gritted teeth.
“I need you to take care of something for me.”
“Sure.” Brainerd grinned. Taking care of business for Krieg had been a profitable sideline for him over the years. The grin faded as Krieg told him what he wanted.
“You have to be kidding.” Brainerd shook his head. “I can’t …”
“You will,” Krieg said. “You will, or you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.”
Krieg ticked off the crimes that would cost Brainerd his freedom. “Fraud, accepting kickbacks, aiding and abetting in numerous crimes, including kidnapping and human trafficking. Then there’s the small matter of the murder of Lucky Martin. I’ll bet you stood there beside Dermott, looking pure as the driven snow when they pulled his body from the river.”
“But I …”
“Shut up.” A sneer crossed Krieg’s face. “You played the game, now you pay the price.”
Brainerd swallowed nervously, his face pale. Krieg was right. He was trapped. He had played with the devil, without considering the hellfire. Now, when things were getting hot, he had no choice but to keep playing.
His oversized head nodded slowly, the flabby jowls beneath protruding in rolls of fat. “Okay.”
“Let me know when it’s done.” Krieg put his truck in gear and sped away.
Brainerd sat in his truck as the dust settled around him, wondering how handcuffs would feel on his fat wrists. He shook the thought off. Just get it over with, he told himself.
He drove slowly. Maybe Krieg would change his mind and tell him to call it off. It was an idle hope, and he knew it.
He arrived at the point along the Rio Grande that Krieg had described. Half waddling and half crawling, he made his way gingerly down the bank to the water’s edge. Emmett Brewer’s body lay exactly where Krieg said it would be.
Brainerd couldn’t help gawking at what he found. Krieg had neglected to mention the fist-sized hole the rifle round had punched out of the back of Brewer’s skull. Flies were already buzzing around it, depositing their maggot eggs in any wet, fleshy crevice they found.
The deputy peered up and down the bank and across the water. No one was in sight on either side.
As instructed, he took the .32 pistol from his pocket and pointed it at what was left of Brewer’s head. Eight sharp cracks sounded as Brainerd squeezed the trigger sending all eight bullets into Brewer’s already-shattered skull.
Krieg wanted to cover the fact that Brewer had been killed by a .30-06 rou
nd. Brainerd regarded the mangled mess that had been Brewer’s head. The eight small-caliber rounds could not disguise the fact that something larger had ended the Border Patrol officer’s life. The rifle bullet had passed through the skull and ended up somewhere on the opposite bank of the river and would never be recovered, but the light .32 caliber slugs would be.
Brainerd looked at the pistol in his hand. He still wanted to hold on to it, but this was too much.
He tossed it into the water then looked down at Brewer’s body. Krieg wanted it rolled into the water. Brainerd hesitated.
He’d followed Krieg’s instructions to this point, but whether the body was recovered in the water or on the bank seemed irrelevant. He knew from experience that the risk of leaving behind some incriminating evidence would increase dramatically if he touched and attempted to drag the body to the water. Fibers, body fluid transferal, a footprint he forgot to cover up, and a thousand other tiny bits of evidence could send him to prison as part of a conspiracy to murder a federal agent.
He shook his head, pleased with his analysis of the situation and made an executive decision. Enough was enough.
56.
Raging Maniac
The door crashed open. Tom Krieg stomped through the guesthouse to the bedroom in the hallway. He felt as if the walls were closing in on him. The beast inside demanded its release.
He wanted the girl, needed her, now. A moment later, he reemerged from the bedroom, eyes blazing. He sprang toward Claire, huddled against the far end of the sofa trying to make herself as small a target as possible.
“Where is she?” Krieg thundered.
“Gone,” Claire whispered, terrified at what was to come. “I couldn’t stop him.”
She cowered on the sofa, pulling her knees up and lowering her head to cover her face.
“Who?” Krieg’s fist flashed out and caught her in the side of the head.
He reached down and grabbed her hair, pulling her up so that her face was inches from his, his hand wrapped around her throat. The purple lump on the side of her face grew as she dangled before him, half suspended in the air by his grip on her throat. She was buying time for them and was paying the price. Krieg’s hold on her throat tightened.
“He forced his way in … went into the bedroom …” She shook her head, choking the words out. “I couldn’t stop him.”
“Who!”
Krieg’s grip tightened, and she was afraid she might pass out. Part of her prayed that she would. The questions would end then, at least for a while. She clung to consciousness, trying this once to do the right thing. The young couple needed time to put as much distance between them and the hell Krieg had created. The more he questioned her, the farther away they ran.
Claire’s eyes fluttered closed as if she might faint. She gasped, delaying the inevitable a little longer. Her youth had been stolen by this evil man. She could not allow it to happen again to Jacinta. Perhaps this was the penance God required for the life she had lived. Her own life was the price of forgiveness.
It didn’t matter anymore. Krieg had beaten her before, and Claire had no doubt that he would beat her again. Desperately, she fought to hold onto consciousness. Krieg threw her back onto the sofa and backhanded her across the mouth, opening a gash in her tongue and lip.
“It doesn’t matter. I know who.” He towered over her, glaring down.
She gasped for air and held her hand to her mouth to stem the blood flowing down her chin.
“You’ll pay for this.” He turned and stormed from the guesthouse.
Claire Toussaint sobbed. She’d been paying for it all her life.
The drive to Creosote at seventy miles an hour on the back roads took twenty minutes. Krieg’s pickup roared through town, sliding to a stop in front of Isabella’s home. He stomped to the porch, took hold of the doorknob, found it locked, and kicked the door open.
He stood in the doorway, backlit by the sun low on the horizon, a dark, hulking shape. Isabella sat with Sherm Westerfield at the kitchen table across the room. Eyes red and wet, she looked up.
“Get out,” she said. There was no reason to ask what he wanted.
“Where are they?” Krieg stepped through the door, his hulk moving menacingly toward Isabella.
Sherm rose to stand between them. Isabella remained seated, unflinching. Nothing Tom Krieg did to her could be worse than the look of disgust she had seen on her son’s face.
“You don’t belong here.” Sherm moved closer.
“Get out of the way old man, before you get hurt.”
“I’m not moving anywhere.” Sherm’s eyes burned with anger. “Never liked you, Krieg … always thought you were an asshole, but now …” Sherm shook his head. “Now it all makes sense.”
Krieg looked past him to Isabella. “What did you tell him?” he hissed.
“Everything.” She rose to stand beside Sherm. “He knows it all.”
“You stupid bitch. You don’t have any idea what you’ve done.”
“I know I lost my son … maybe for good … because of you … because of the secrets I’ve kept.” She shook her head. “No more secrets.”
“That’s right, Krieg. No more secrets.” Sherm moved in front of Isabella, his face inches from Krieg’s. “Your little business … what do they call it, human trafficking? Taking girls, raping them, selling them, keeping them as prisoners. It’s done. I’ll see to that.”
“You do, and you’ll die, like your son.”
A cloud passed over Sherm’s face. He nodded as if a great mystery had been revealed to him. “That’s right. Robby found out what you were up to. I didn’t know what it was then, but he couldn’t stomach it, so he walked away from it and left to protect me. He knew what I would do if I found out about it. Now he’s dead, killed in Afghanistan.” Sherm’s eyes narrowed. “But you’re responsible for it. You killed my boy. I won’t shut up.”
“That pissant son of yours kept his mouth shut because he knew what would happen if he didn’t. You should follow his example.” Krieg nodded at Isabella. “Like her.”
“He was a boy,” Sherm said, his eyes filling with tears. “Confused by what he discovered, not sure how to deal with it, worried about me. I wish he had come to me and told me.”
“If he had, you’d both be dead now.” Krieg looked at Isabella. “You tell him the rest? That your bastard boy is mine.”
“She told me.” Sherm nodded.
“You were just another whore, even in high school.” Krieg sneered. “You weren’t even very good at that. Got knocked up in the back of my pickup and wouldn’t get rid of it.” He looked at Sherm. “That’s the real secret she kept all these years. Her son is mine. I own him, like everything else in the county.”
“You don’t own shit,” Sherm growled back. “You use people to get what you want. Those days are over.”
“He took what belongs to me.”
“That girl doesn’t belong to you, and neither does Sandy.” Isabella’s tears had dried, replaced by cold anger.
“He took what’s mine!” Kreig’s voice boomed at them like thunder, ready to hurl lightning into their faces. “Anything happens to him, you have yourself to blame. Now, where is he?”
“You think I would tell you, even if I knew.” A look of disgust covered her face. “You’re not only a bully. You’re a fool.”
He stepped forward, pushing Sherm back into Isabella so that he could reach her. Sherm’s struck one feeble blow against the bigger man’s shoulder before Krieg’s fist crashed into his jaw and sent him to the floor. Krieg reached for Isabella, holding her by one arm as he backhanded her across the mouth.
“Make you feel big?” she spat at him through a split lip. “Beating an old man and a woman makes you feel like you’re in control.” She shook her head. “You don’t control anything anymore. The secrets are out. Your power is gone.”
“We’ll see about that.”
With a shove, he sent her to the floor, her head banging against the kitche
n table. Krieg turned and disappeared through the door. Isabella reached out to Sherm and helped him sit up. He shook his head to get rid of the cobwebs and looked around.
“Is he gone?”
“He’s gone.” Isabella nodded.
“I have to go too. I need to get the sheriff on this.” Sherm tried to pull himself up from the floor and then sat back down.
“You need to sit here and rest for a bit. We need to think this through. I’m not sure who we can trust.”
“You think Sheriff Dermott is in on this?” Sherm was incredulous.
“I can’t say, but Robby must not have been sure either, so he did what he thought was best for both of you. He left and stayed quiet to protect you. There had to be a reason he didn’t come to you … a reason he was afraid for you and didn’t go to the sheriff.” She shook her head, trying to think things through. “All I’m saying is that for now, we don’t know who to trust.”
“Alright.” Sherm nodded and managed to climb into a chair. He sat for a moment, breathing deeply and gathering his thoughts. “But there is someone I do trust, and someone you can trust, I believe.” He looked at her. “Is he coming back?”
“He said he would be back tonight.” She nodded. “He wouldn’t say it unless he meant it, and you’re right, I do trust him.”
“Me too.” Sherm nodded. “You wait here for Myers. I’m going to go round up Reggie Prince. That’ll give us two we can trust. Then we can make a plan.”
She watched him shuffle to the door and out into the twilight. Alone in the house, her bravado began to fade. She trembled for her son. Tom Krieg was a raging maniac.
57.
The Innocent
A series of back roads, some nothing more than dry washes, led them from the Krieg ranch and away from Salvia County. When Sandy made it to Highway 83, he turned northwest and followed the Rio Grande for an hour. As the sun lowered in the sky, he leaned forward, peering through the windshield.
