Road to Justice

by Glenn Trust

  “Nope.” Reggie shook his head. “Not me.”

  “Alright,” Sole sighed. “Stay close.”

  He rose, and they moved down the slope toward the main house. Reggie split off toward the rear, Sole with Isabella behind him heading for the front.

  There was no sign of life visible through any of the windows. They made their way around the sides and back to regroup near the front porch.

  “Do we go in and clear it room by room, to make sure?” Reggie asked.

  “I think so. It’s a shitty plan, but if he has them in there, we don’t have time to waste.”

  “Window?”

  “Front door,” Sole said. “Stealth and speed, remember. Opening a window and climbing through will make noise and alert anyone inside. Assume we are danger close. We go through the front, as fast and quiet as possible.”

  Sole moved carefully onto the porch steps, hoping there were no creaky loose boards. Reggie followed, instinctively watching their rear for threats.

  “No,” Isabella whispered. “There.”

  Sole and Reggie froze in place. They turned their heads to follow her pointing finger.

  Claire Toussaint stood on the guesthouse porch. Head swiveling from side to side to make sure no one was watching, she lifted a hand and waved them over.

  “Who’s that?” Sole asked.

  “A friend … I think. Her name’s Claire Toussaint. She belongs to Krieg.” Isabella began moving across the yard toward the guesthouse.

  “Wait,” Sole whispered. “Could be a trap.”

  Isabella ignored the warning and trotted toward the guesthouse.

  “Shit.”

  Sole looked at Reggie. They gave each other a shrug and followed, running to take up protective positions on either side of Isabella.

  As they came to the guesthouse, Claire receded into the shadow of the doorway. Her eyes darted back and forth, nervously searching the yard for people or vehicles approaching.

  “The barn. They’re in the barn.”

  “Are you sure?” Isabella asked.

  “Yes. You must hurry. Krieg left, but he will be back.”

  Sole watched, trying to get a read on the woman, looking for some indication that she was lying. He’d never met her, but if Krieg was around, she might be sending them into an ambush.

  “Let’s go.” Isabella turned and headed around to the side of guesthouse toward the barn.

  “Wait.” This time Sole took her by the arm and forced her to stop.

  “Let me go.” She struggled to pull her arm from his grasp.

  “I will, Isabella, but you need to stop.” He released his grip on her. “You go storming into that barn like this and Krieg might …” He hesitated. “Well, we want Sandy and Jacinta out alive. We don’t want to force his hand.”

  “He’s right,” Reggie said. “Let us handle this. If Sandy and the girl are there, we’ll get them out.”

  “Alright.” She nodded and took a deep breath. “Just hurry, before it’s too late.”

  They moved around the side of the guesthouse toward the corrals that ran parallel to the side yard. Crouching behind the steel rails for as much concealment as possible, they trotted toward the barn. Sole took the lead, Reggie watching the rear with Isabella between them. The last fifty yards were in the open.

  Sole stopped to assess the situation. The large bay door on the front of the barn was closed. Trying to roll it open would take time and attract attention. A walk-through door on the side wall was also closed, but opening it would be easier. The rear and far sides of the barn were not visible from their vantage point.

  “I’ll take the walk-through door.” Sole turned to Reggie. “You take the far side or rear. There’s probably another door or a window. Watch it. If he’s there, we don’t want Krieg getting away out the back with them when I make entry.”

  “You got it.” Reggie nodded.

  Sole looked at Isabella and started to speak.

  “Don’t even think it.” She shook her head. “I’m going with you.”

  “Alright.” He sighed. “Stay low and stay behind me.”

  As they crossed the open space to the barn, Reggie peeled off to move around the far side. Sole and Isabella wasted no time going directly to the walk-through door.

  The door had a lever handle. Sole pushed it down slowly with his left hand, the Colt in his right hand. He eased the door open, and Isabella gasped.

  Sandy lay on the floor against a storeroom door on the far side. He was shackled hand and foot, and even from a distance, they could see that his face was swollen and bruised. Blood stained the surrounding concrete.

  Isabella ran to him. Sole stood by the door, scanning the interior from one end to the other for threats. None appeared, and he advanced, holding the pistol in a combat-ready posture.

  Isabella knelt at Sandy’s side, tears falling as she tried to find a way to unlock the cuffs on his wrists and ankles. Sole stood over her, eyeing the barn’s vast interior. There were too many places of concealment. Equipment, machinery, storage rooms, workbenches.

  “No, no.” Sandy shook his head and thumped it against the storeroom door behind him. “Jacinta. She’s in there. Get her out.”

  Isabella looked up at Sole. He tried the door handle. It was locked.

  With a final look around the barn, he pushed the pistol back in his waistband and trotted to a workbench against the adjacent wall. After rummaging around for a few seconds, he came back holding a crowbar.

  He pulled Sandy out of the way and said, “Stand back.”

  Placing the end of the bar where the door and latch meet, he pulled hard. On the third pull, the door popped open.

  The young girl lay on the floor in the center of the room, bloody but not as badly hurt as Sandy. She was shackled in the same manner, though, and Sole bent to lift her into his arms and carry her out. He stepped through the door and placed her gently on the floor beside Sandy.

  “Jacinta,” Sandy murmured through his bruised mouth.

  “Reynaldo.” She smiled, tears filling her eyes at the sight of his battered face. “What has he done to you?”

  “We have to get them out of here … carry them if necessary. I’ll find Reggie.”

  He turned to the walk-through door and stopped. Claire Toussaint stood there. Behind her, Tom Krieg held a shotgun at her back and prodded her forward.

  “I’m sorry,” Claire sobbed. “He said he would kill me … cut me in pieces.” She shook her head. “I’m so sorry.”

  “So, this is why you missed the call-out last night.” Krieg looked at Sole and shook his head, laughing. “I guess you figured out you’re fired.” He motioned with the shotgun to Sole’s midriff. “Put your pistol on the floor.”

  Sole reached into his waistband and retrieved the Colt, holding the butt between his thumb and forefinger. It was a damned rookie mistake, he thought with disgust. He had allowed himself to get caught up in the drama before securing the scene. Shit! He placed the pistol on the floor and stood to face Krieg.

  “I’ve been waiting for you. I knew you’d come.” Krieg eyed Isabella, a smirk on his face. “And that you’d do anything to save your boy.”

  “He’s your son too,” Isabella said.

  “You think so? What’s that they say?” Krieg laughed. “Being a sperm donor doesn’t make you a father. Well, I guess we’re living proof of that. No, he doesn’t mean any more to me than the coffee I pissed down the toilet this morning. Body fluids, that’s all.”

  “You have me. Let him go!”

  “You don’t seem to understand.” Krieg shook his head. “I had to get you here to tie up all the loose ends at the same time.”

  He turned his head toward Sole. “You too, Bill Myers or whatever your name is. She tell you I fucked her?” Krieg was enjoying the moment. He laughed. “You’re a bonus. No witnesses. With all of you disappearing at the same time, I imagine the sheriff will figure you did away with them and took off.”

  Sole knew he was
right. He was the newcomer, the unknown factor and by default would be the person of most interest in the disappearance and suspected murders of the others. It didn’t really matter because he would be in the same grave with the others if Krieg had his way.

  Krieg gave Claire a shove. She stumbled to the floor, trembling and holding her hands over her face. There was no mistaking what he meant. No witnesses.

  He lifted the shotgun to sight along the barrel at Sole’s face.

  “Lower your weapon Krieg.” Reggie Prince stepped into the barn from the walk-through door.

  Krieg froze. Careful not to make any sudden moves, he lowered the barrel until it pointed at the floor.

  “All the way. On the floor and step away from it.”

  Krieg knelt and placed the shotgun on the concrete, then rose to face Reggie. “You?”

  “Yeah, me.”

  “Took your damned sweet time about it,” Sole said, retrieving the Colt from the floor.

  “Sorry about that. Only found one back window, and it had a security screen over it. Had to make my way all the way around.” Reggie smiled. “You got a big ass barn here, Krieg.”

  Isabella stepped forward. “What do we do with him?”

  “First things first,” Sole said. “The keys to the shackles, Krieg.”

  “In my pocket.” Krieg looked from Reggie to Sole, both men pointing their weapons in his direction.

  “Hand them over.”

  Krieg reached into his pocket and slowly pulled the keys out. Sole took them and handed them to Isabella.

  “Take their shackles off.” He turned back to Reggie. “What’s your call?”

  “Seems like a pretty clear-cut case.” Reggie’s eyes narrowed. “First, there’s what he did to these young people. No doubt, he was going to kill them.”

  “And us,” Sole agreed. “No doubt.”

  “Next, I expect there’s a reason you go around using names that ain’t yours.”

  “There is.” Sole nodded. “And I expect there’s a reason you disappear and then hide out with Sherm from time to time.”

  “There is.”

  “So, we both have reasons not to leave someone behind who can ID us and raise suspicions with the law.”

  “Not to mention what he’s done to all those other girls,” Reggie added.

  “True enough. That’s not a habit he’s going to give up. There’ll be more if he has his way.”

  “You’re full of shit, and I don’t scare that easy.” Krieg glared from one to the other. “Take your whores and that little bastard and get off my property.”

  “We’re getting to that,” Sole replied calmly. He looked at Reggie. “Then there’s what happened to Sherm.”

  “I never touched the old man,” Krieg said.

  “No, but that buckshot you sent his way did,” Reggie said. “Whether you pulled the trigger or someone did it for you, it’s all the same.”

  “That’s right,” Sole added. “You said you were eliminating all the witnesses. Sherm Westerfield was the first.”

  “Yeah, there’s that.” Reggie nodded, his eyes fixed on Krieg’s.

  “Seems like a clear call.” Sole nodded. “Take a vote. I say, do it.”

  “Agreed. It’s unanimous.”

  “What about us? Our vote?” Isabella spoke up.

  “Do it,” Sandy said.

  “No, you don’t vote on this, Sandy.” Sole shook his head and looked at Isabella and Jacinta. “None of you vote. This is our decision. We carry the burden for what happens, not you. For the record, nothing you say will change it, and nothing we do now is your responsibility.”

  The trial was over. In a court of law, a good lawyer might have gotten Krieg off. There were no lawyers here, and no appeals to a higher authority. Tom Krieg’s sentence had been handed down. There would be no appeals.

  He looked at Reggie and nodded. “Do it.”

  Reggie motioned with the Glock toward the storeroom door. “In there, Krieg. Move.”

  “You’re full of shit.” Krieg sneered. “You don’t have the balls. It’s murder.”

  “Not murder,” Sole said. “Justice.”

  Reggie’s pistol caught Krieg across the jaw, opening a bloody gash. “Move.”

  Reggie prodded Krieg in the chest with the barrel of the Glock, backing him to the storeroom door. “Inside.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing.” Confusion replaced the usual fierceness in Krieg’s eyes. “You can’t do this.”

  Reggie pushed him through the door and closed it behind him.

  “I’ll make you a rich man,” Krieg pleaded, fear replacing the confusion. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I do,” Reggie said.

  As they unshackled Sandy and Jacinta and helped them to their feet, three sharp cracks sounded through the closed storeroom door. A moment later, Reggie stepped from the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

  “It’s done.”

  “Let’s get everyone out of here.” Sole looked at Claire. “You too. Get up.”

  They helped Sandy and Jacinta across the yards and lawns, up the hill and back to their vehicles where they managed to climb into Sole’s pickup. Claire rode with Reggie.

  “Don’t go back to Sherm’s place,” Sole said leaning in to speak to Reggie. “If they’ve found him, they’ll drag you into the investigation.”

  “I know. Don’t worry. I got someplace I can go. Won’t nobody come looking for me there.” Reggie looked at Claire in the seat beside him. “What about her?”

  “Here’s some money.” Sole pulled out the roll of bills he carried. “Use it to get her on her way or settled somewhere. Sorry to put that on you, but …” He looked at the others waiting in his truck. “I’ve got other things to take care of.”

  “Understood, brother.” Reggie held his hand out, gripping Sole’s firmly. “You take care, Marine.”

  “You too, Army.”

  The two trucks bounced their way across the prairie and over the back roads until they hit the county road. Reggie headed north, Sole turned toward Creosote.

  Isabella had said little since finding her son alive. She was awed and a bit fearful of the man she now called John. In the space of a few hours, he’d rescued her son and Jacinta, decided the fate of Tom Krieg, and given his assent to his execution.

  He was an enigma. The words he said to Krieg rang in her ears.

  Not murder. Justice.

  72.

  Odds

  “Who found him?” Sheriff Paul Dermott knelt beside the body of Emmett Brewer, sprawled in the mud along the Rio Grande.

  “Couple of boys out fishing.”

  The deputy responding to the call nodded in the direction of two sixteen-year-olds who had figured today was a good day to cut class and cast a line into the river. They stood watching the deputies do their work, securing the crime scene, and gathering evidence. Dermott walked over to them.

  “Tell me what you saw boys.”

  Dermott noted that both were pale and green around the gills. Decomposition was well underway, and Brewer’s body bore the signs of scavengers feasting on tender morsels they pulled from his eyes and mouth.

  The taller and paler of the boys spoke first. “Not really anything, Sheriff. Just out walkin’ the bank, lookin’ for a place to set and fish, we come on the …” The boy hesitated, searching for a polite word for a corpse. “We come on him … the dead man … and called you right off.”

  “See anyone else around?”

  “No, sir, not a soul.”

  “Touch anything? Touch him?”

  “Oh, hell no.” The boy looked like he might gag at the idea of touching a dead man. “I mean, no sir, we didn’t touch nothing.”

  “How close did you get to the body?” Dermott surveyed the surrounding ground for footprints.

  “Not too close. Say about ten feet or so, just close enough so we could tell it was a dead … I mean it was the smell that got our attention right off.”

&n
bsp; “Yeah, it’s an aroma you won’t ever forget, son.” He nodded at the boys’ feet. “Let me see the soles of your shoes.”

  They lifted their shoes. Dermott waved a deputy over. “Photos of their shoes top and bottom.”

  “Right.” The deputy nodded and took the pictures with a digital camera.

  “What’s that for,” the boy asked nervously. “You think we done somethin’?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Dermott replied. “Just pictures so we can tell whose footprints are whose. You say you were about ten feet away, so we can eliminate any prints that match your shoes farther than ten feet out.”

  “Eliminate?”

  “Yes. We want to find the killer, and he might have left footprints around here somewhere. If he did, we might be able to track him down from the type of shoe.” He smiled. “Of course, we need to eliminate yours right off, don’t we?”

  Dermott left out the part about verifying their proximity to the body and that while, for the moment, they weren’t suspects, that could change.

  “Oh.” The boy nodded at the explanation, but the expression on his face showed he doubted the reason.

  “Okay.” Dermott nodded and looked at the other boy. “How about you? See anyone? Touch anything?

  “No, sir.” The boy shook his head solemnly.

  “Okay. The deputy here is going to take your names and addresses and write up your statement.”

  Dermott turned away.

  “Sheriff?” the shorter boy called out.

  “Yes, son?”

  “We gonna be in trouble for cuttin’ class? My Dad’ll beat the hell out of me if he finds out.”

  Dermott repressed a smile. “We can keep it between us for now, as long you’re telling me the truth.”

  “Oh, yessir, it’s the truth for sure.”

  Dermott walked back to the river bank and gazed down at the Border Patrol agent who had been his friend and colleague. He didn’t have time to grieve. That would come later.

  “What were you doing here, Emmett?” He scanned up and down the bank. “What did you find?”

  His portable radio crackled. “Dispatch to unit one.”

  “Go ahead, Sally,” he responded.