by Brent Towns
“No!”
The deputy looked at Barrett and shrugged. “OK. Have it your way.”
“And Buck ain’t pressing charges against him either.”
Cleaver raised his eyebrows. “What was that?”
“You heard.”
“It’s a good thing I don’t need you then, isn’t it?”
“He won’t testify, and it’ll get thrown out of court.”
Cleaver shook his head. “Christ.”
Out in the back room, Cleaver stared at the mess of drugs and injured gang members. He fixed his stern gaze on Barrett. “Get this cleaned up.”
“What about the drugs?”
“What drugs? Like I said, get it cleaned up.”
Sonora
For the second time that day Montoya received a call from Cleaver. “Yes?”
“We have another problem.”
“It seems that problems are all you bring me. What is it this time?”
Cleaver told him about what had happened.
There was a long silence as Montoya digested the news. Then, “What is it you wish for me to do?”
“I thought you might be able to make them both go away.”
“Can you not do it?”
“No. They need to disappear and never be found.”
Montoya sighed. “OK. Keep him in jail and have the woman watch him tomorrow night. You will receive a text before it happens. The team will be in and out and leave no trace.”
“Tell them to be careful. He’s no ordinary man.”
Montoya looked at Salazar who sat on the white sofa across from him. “This I am aware of.”
Montoya disconnected.
Salazar stared at his boss. “More problems?”
“Sí. The gringo you tell me about. It seems he is a bigger problem than we can afford.”
“I will go.”
“No. I have something else for you to do. Pick four men and send them to me. I will tell them what is to be done.”
The sicario nodded. “Sí, El Hombre.”
Retribution
Cara pounded the steering wheel with the palm of her right hand. “Fucking asshole!”
“Who me?” Kane asked innocently.
“No, that other son of a bitch, Art,” then she glanced sideways at him. “Yes, and you, damn it. What on earth were you thinking, Reaper? You were meant to meet me at the Rose for a drink. Then I get a report about a damned riot over at Sully’s when I was on my way home because you stood me up.”
“Sorry about that,” he apologized.
“You want to tell me what happened?”
Kane told her about finding Druce and calling for the paramedics.
“That was you? Why didn’t you call it in?”
“He didn’t want me to. He was scared.”
“So, you took it upon yourself to deliver justice to those responsible?”
“Kind of.”
“Shit, Reaper. You can’t do that. Look what happens when you do.”
The Tahoe pulled into the parking lot outside the jail. Cara ripped the handbrake on and climbed out. She walked around to the other side and opened the door for Kane to get out.
He gave her a wry smile. “Why, thank you, ma’am.”
“This is serious shit, Reaper. You’re looking at hard time.”
Once inside, she sat him in a chair at her desk. She took the cuffs off and grabbed a pad from her drawer to make notes. Cara slammed it onto her desk and stared hard at him. “OK, Gunny, start from the beginning.”
Kane had only just finished telling Cara about finding Druce when Cleaver arrived back. On his own.
“Where are the others? Barrett?”
“There was no need to arrest them.”
“What about the drugs?”
“There were no drugs. Your friend there was trying to save his own skin.”
“Horseshit!” Kane snapped. “There was a whole desk covered in it. People were marching in and out of the back room to buy them.”
“If they had been, they weren’t when I went to check it out.”
“What about the gun and knife they tried to kill me with. It was all self-defense.”
Cleaver shook his head. “Nothing. And there is one other thing. Buck isn’t going to press charges for you shooting him. But don’t get too excited. There will be charges of some sort, count on it. Until then, you will be locked up in the cells.”
“Can’t get rid of me one way so you’ll try another, is that it?” Kane snapped.
“What the hell are you on about?”
Kane turned to Cara. “Your boss here tried to run me out of town. Took me for a ride and dropped me about a mile from town and told me not to come back.”
“But you did come back, didn’t you,” Cleaver pointed out. “And look what happened. You’re trouble, and you’ll get what you deserve. Lock him up, Cara. I’m going home.”
Once Cleaver was gone, Kane said to Cara. “There were drugs there, Cara. One of Barrett’s men tried to knife me, and Buck tried to shoot me. Hell, if I’d wanted to kill them, they’d all be dead.”
She nodded. “Then what happened to them?”
“How well do you know him?”
“Cleaver? I’ve known him ever since I started to work here. You aren’t saying that he’s up to his neck in this, are you?”
“He wouldn’t be the first to go bad.”
Cara shook her head. “He may be a stubborn, mule-headed, chauvinistic son of a bitch whom I can’t stand, but I don’t think he’s bad.”
“Well, what about the drugs? He should have found them right where they were.”
“I’m sure if they were there he would have, Reaper.”
“Don’t you believe me?”
“I’m a deputy sheriff. I have to believe the evidence.”
“Damn it, Cara. Go back and check. Look for yourself. You’ll see. Talk to Brenda.”
“OK. I’ll do it on my way home. First I have to make a call to get someone to babysit you.”
“Good. Thank you. You’ll see.”
Thirty minutes later a large man with a thick white beard walked in.
“Where’s this desperado you want me to keep an eye on?”
“Out in the cells, Bear,” Cara informed him. “He won’t give you any trouble.”
Bear was a special deputy. Smythe had called on from time to time if he needed a hole filled for whatever reason. Even though he was retired, Bear was always willing to lend a hand.
Bear nodded. “OK. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you then.”
“By the way, I’m sorry about Walt. I liked him.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Sully’s place was empty when Cara returned. She walked inside and wrinkled her nose at the smell of fresh puke. Brenda was behind the bar cleaning up. Of Sully, there was no sign.
She crossed to the bar, her boot-heels making a loud clunking sound on the timber floorboards. In the background, the jukebox played a slow Martina McBride song she’d never heard before.
“You get the good job, huh?” Cara said as she leaned on the bar. “Smells like someone puked a wet dog in here.”
Brenda nodded. “Thanks to your friend, things kinda dried up around here, so we shut up early. Sully had a headache, so he left me to do the shit.”
“Can I ask you some questions about that?”
The look of apprehension on Brenda’s face was obvious when she said, “I ain’t sure I can help you any.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“The feller came in, we talked, and then he went crazy.”
Cara nodded. “What did you talk about?”
“Not much. Just about how he used to be a soldier. Hey, you don’t suppose he has that PTSD shit, do you?”
Cara shook her head. “What else, Brenda?”
“Not much. He saw some of Barrett’s gang come in and flipped out. He grabbed the pipe we use to keep the rowdies under control and stormed off into th
e back room. Sully tried to stop him, but he got put on the floor as quick as spit.”
“Where was the pipe he took?”
Without thinking about her answer, Brenda pointed under the counter. “Down there.”
“So, he got it from down there?”
“That’s right.”
“How?”
“What do you mean?”
“Kane was on this side of the bar, and the pipe is on the other. How did he get it?”
“He leaned over and took it.”
“Uh huh.”
Cara jumped up and leaned across the bar top. She gazed down at the other side and said, “Show me where?”
Brenda pointed at a shelf close to the bottom. “We keep it there.”
Cara let her arm dangle down, but it came up short.
Too late, Brenda realized her mistake. “Ah – no, maybe it was this shelf.” She pointed at the one above it.
Cara pushed herself off the bar and stared into Brenda’s eyes. “He didn’t take it, did he? You gave it to him.”
Brenda’s head shook furiously. “No, no. He took it.”
“No, he didn’t. It was you.”
Her face fell. “Ok, I did it. I thought he might be able to get rid of Barrett and his gang. Please don’t tell Sully. He’ll kill me.”
“Were they selling drugs from the back room?”
The anguish on the young woman’s face told Cara what she wanted to know.
“Is there anyone out there now?”
“No.”
“Good. Come with me.”
Both women went out to the back room. Brenda turned the light on, and the first thing Cara noticed was the prominent bloodstains on the floor. Brenda saw her looking at them. “I tried to get rid of them, but it’s in the timber.”
Cara walked the room and looked it over with a practiced eye. She stopped, went down on one knee, and touched the floor with her finger. She pulled it back and stared at the traces of fine white powder stuck to it.
“How long have they been selling out of here, Brenda?” Cara asked.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The deputy came to her feet and asked again, “How long have they been selling drugs from here, Brenda, and don’t give me any shit about you not knowing.”
“Months.”
“Is Sully in on it?”
“Yes.”
Cara hesitated, then asked, “What about Art Cleaver? Does he know about it?”
Brenda nodded.
A million thoughts rushed through the deputy’s head as she tried to process it all. It looked as though Kane was right, and Cleaver was in it up to his neck.
“I’ll come by your place in the morning to pick you up,” Cara said.
“What? Why?”
“Because I’ll need you to testify against Art. The only way I can be assured of that is to keep you safe. You’ll be fine until I come back.”
She gave her head a furious shake. “No – no way!”
Cara wasn’t about to take no for an answer. “Yes, you will. And don’t try to run. If you do, I’ll put the word out that you talked anyway, and they’ll come looking for you.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Can and will. I’ll see you around eight.”
Before Brenda could protest any more, Cara was gone.
Brenda walked back out to the bar and started cleaning where she had left off when Cara came in. Her mind reeled as she tried to think of what she could do. She dropped the rag and bent down to pick it up. Hearing the door open, she called out, “We’re closed.”
Footsteps got closer, and she straightened up. “I said –”
Cleaver gave her a mirthless smile. “Hello, Brenda. How about you tell me what Cara wanted.”
The Desert
The Saguaro County sheriff’s SUV slid to a stop in the desert ten miles from anywhere, surrounded by a silvery landscape of giant, unrecognizable shadows.
Cleaver climbed out and stomped angrily towards the back of the vehicle and opened it up. He reached inside and dragged Brenda out by her hair. Muffled screams sounded from behind the tape he’d placed across her mouth. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she hit the ground hard. Tears ran down her cheeks from terrified eyes.
It hadn’t taken Cleaver long to extract the information he wanted. A few well-placed blows and she’d told him everything, and in doing so, had become another problem in the equation that seemed to be unraveling before his eyes.
This one, however, he could fix.
Cleaver dragged Brenda around to the front of the SUV and placed her in the beam of the headlights. She stared up at him, eyes begging him to let her go. He took out his sidearm and placed the cold barrel against her forehead.
Cleaver hesitated.
She closed her eyes.
He pulled the trigger.
Chapter 8
Retribution
For the fifth time, Cara pounded a clenched fist on Brenda’s door. It was eight o’clock, and already hot which meant the deputy was losing patience fast.
“Come on, Brenda. Open the damned door!”
The bartender from Sully’s lived in a small, rundown, L-shaped, timber-built home with a tin roof and fallen down carport on the left side. It had once been white but was now a dirty light-grey color from years of neglect.
Cara banged again. “Brenda!”
“She ain’t home, deputy.”
Cara turned and stared at the elderly man who stood on the other side of a half-fallen down wire fence which separated his property from the one Brenda occupied.
“Are you sure?”
“The door.”
“Pardon?”
“The door,” he said pointing at the rusted gate type screen Cara had been pounding on. “Screeches like a bastard every time she goes in and out of it. I may be going deaf, but even I can’t escape that thing. I didn’t hear it last night, nor again this morning. Which means she ain’t home.”
Cara looked at the door and then back at the man. “Thanks.”
“Is she in trouble or something? She may look a little rough around the edges, but she’s a nice girl.”
Cara shook her head. “No, she’s fine.” Then softer, “At least I hope she is.”
“What?”
“Nothing, I was just talking to myself.”
He raised his hand and turned away from the fence. Cara stood on the doorstep for a few moments more and then walked back to the Tahoe. She climbed in and turned the vehicle around. Two minutes later she was outside of Sully’s Bar.
“Get out! We’re closed!” Sully said without turning around.
“I’m looking for Brenda,” said Cara, looking at the bloodstained plaster on the back of his head.
Sully turned and frowned. “It’s you. What do you want with her?”
“I want to talk to her.”
“Me too,” he growled. “The bitch never finished cleaning up last night.”
Cara frowned. “Does that happen very often?”
“Never.”
Where the hell is she?
“If she shows, let me know.”
“Yeah. Right. Are we done?”
“Yeah. You might want to clean up the drug residue you left out in the back room.”
Sully stared after her as she strode from the room.
The Desert
The large, black birds circled lazily in the sky above the desert floor. Already, there were some on the ground, and they walked around, waiting. One moved in close and then backed away. Another did the same.
A dark shadow seemed to fall from the sky and landed heavily. Two of the vultures already on the ground moved in closer to the new arrival to chase it away. But the bird would not be moved. It was bigger than the others.
It moved forward and climbed onto the tattooed arm. The vulture studied the body. The exposed flesh was a mottled color, the tape was still in place, and the hole in the forehead was dried and crusted. The large eyes that ha
d been brown, now milky and staring sightlessly upward.
The bird walked along the arm and up onto the corpse’s chest. It stopped and looked down at the exposed flesh of the midriff, the piercing at the navel. Its head came down, and the wicked curved tip of the beak picked at the shiny metal.
Nothing happened.
It tried again. This time the object came away. It dropped it in the sand beside the corpse and turned back.
Suddenly startled by something, it flew away, while beside the body a cell vibrated in the dust.
Retribution
“Shit!” Cara cursed and slammed the phone down on its cradle.
“You have a problem, Deputy?” Cleaver asked.
She glared at him and shook her head. “Nope. No problem.”
“Any news from the M.E. at all?”
“Nope. Shouldn’t one of us be out there doing something, Art?”
“Do what? The culprit got away. There are no witnesses, and I’m still waiting to hear back from the FBI. The rest don’t want to hear about it because it is cartel related.”
“We don’t know that.”
“So, we’re going to do nothing?”
“We shall wait for results and go from there.”
Cara climbed from her seat.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going to check on our prisoner that you haven’t charged yet.”
“That won’t be far away.”
Cara walked out through the back door to the cells. The department had two of them, and Kane was their sole prisoner. She opened the door to his cell and walked in. It consisted of a cot, four walls painted an institutional gray, and a door.
Kane studied her face and said, “Morning.”
“Have you eaten this morning?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“I’ll see that you get something.”
“Did you check out my story?”
Cara nodded. “I did. You were right. I found traces of the drugs. And I also had a witness who was going to testify to Art’s involvement in whatever it all is.”
“Had?”
“She’s disappeared. I swung by her place this morning, and there was no answer. The neighbor said she never came home. So, I went to Sully’s …”
