The big woman pulled away. “I can’t!”
Yolanda Rodriguez had had all she could take. She charged across the courtroom and grabbed the woman by her thick shoulder. “I’ve heard enough of this shit.” She dug in with her fingers and the woman bent to the pain. “They have to be nice to you, but I don’t. Get on the damned ladder or I’ll throw your ass out this window myself.”
Maribelle deflated. “I’m afraid.”
“You better be afraid of me!”
She took one last look at the woman warrior and swung one leg over the frozen sill, yelping at the frozen rungs. With Chief Barker’s assistance, she turned around and backed out of sight as nimble as a teenager.
Still growling, Yolanda touched knuckles with Kelly. “Motivation.”
Kelly gave the room one last glance to make sure all the kids were gone before following.
I touched Mr. Beck on the shoulder. “You’re next.”
He handed the .45 back to me. “Told you I’d take care of your grandmamma. Y’all don’t dawdle up here, son.”
I glanced through the clear handle to see a thick line of stacked rounds and dropped it back into my empty holster. The weight was reassuring. “We won’t.”
The school administrators went next. The rest of the responding team took turns, leaving Perry Hale and Yolanda, who remained fixed on the door.
Perry Hale backed in my direction. “You next.”
“I’ll take you up on that.”
“What I’ve always heard about you guys is true. Good job, Ranger.”
That was the only acknowledgment I needed.
Instead of answering, I slapped Perry Hale on the shoulder, caught Yolanda’s wink, and left.
Chapter 94
The armed, snow-covered adults were trying to sort things out, sending the students to the Posada while others kept watch. They worked to clear the street so the fire truck could get to the burning house.
A couple of the kids didn’t have anyone to meet them. The chances were some of their folks lay still under the snow. The courthouse, which had been the center of so much attention, sat silent and full of death.
Ethan held Gillian close with one arm, issuing orders while cautioning everyone that the situation was far from over.
Deputy Malone appeared at my elbow with a hat in his hand. “You’re standing kinda funny.”
“Got hit in the back. The vest stopped it, but it aches like the devil.”
“My daddy always said it’ll feel good when it quits hurting.”
“Mr. Beck’s already told me that one, and it wasn’t that funny then.”
“Um hum. Well, since you’re still alive, you might need this. One of the boys kicked this hat out of the snow over there under the window. Your name’s in it.”
The dented and stained hat was cold when it slid down over my wet hair. The crowd parted and I was shocked to see Arturo talking to his principal. He should have still been in the attic, safely stowed away until I went back to get him, or sent others to bring him back.
“Come over here, knothead. You should have been under this instead of it layin’ out there.”
Arturo rubbed his frosty hair. “I lost it.”
“How’d you get out?”
He seemed embarrassed. “I used an extension cord.”
I couldn’t help myself. I gave him a hug, intending to ask him later for a detailed explanation. He pushed himself back. “I need to tell you something.”
“Can it wait?” I saw Kelly and the twins in the flow of former hostages headed to the Posada.
“No.” Arturo grabbed my shirtsleeve and pulled me back inside what was left of the station. When we were out of earshot, he pointed toward the west. “Something’s up.”
“And what’s that?”
“I saw a guy get away.”
“From where?”
“Out of the courthouse.”
I could tell the kid was worried. “Go ahead on.”
“He crawled out of one of the downstairs windows.”
“Probably just someone else who was hiding.” I chewed a lip, weighing his statement. “How was he dressed? Did he have his face covered or anything?”
“No. He looked like a rancher. He hung around that truck over there and headed off that way.”
A connection snapped awake in my mind. I recognized the long drift of snow as the truck and cattle trailer that belonged to Burt Bowden, and remembered seeing him drive past that morning as I talked to Andy Clark in front of the Posada. He had no business parking a trailer beside the courthouse.
It dawned on me how so many terrorists had arrived at the same time. “How long ago?”
“Just before y’all started down the ladder. I thought it was you, but I changed my mind when I saw his hat was one of those cheap truck-stop felts.”
Arturo’s story was odd enough to raise the hair on the back of my neck. There could have been a citizen hiding inside while the terrorists had control of the ground floor. He could have stayed out of sight until he figured it was safe enough to slip out of a window and escape. Was it the chaos and shoot-out that rooted him from whatever hole he’d crawled into, or was it something else?
I wondered if one of the last terrorists decided dying for his cause wasn’t the way to go after all. The idea of a murderer on the loose in my town was too much for me to quit right then.
“Gimme my coat and stay here.” He handed it over. I saw Kelly and the twins peel off and head my way. “Better yet, run your little self to the Posada with Kelly where it’s warm and safe.”
I slid my arms through the sleeves, feeling the boy’s delicious heat push at my cold, damp shirt.
He hunched his shoulders and shrank without the oversize coat. “Yessir.”
I gripped his shoulder. “You did good, kid.”
He grew a couple of inches as Kelly stepped close for a hug. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and she still had dried blood in her hairline and one ear. I gathered the kids in close and held them while the heavy snow gathered on our heads and shoulders.
“Y’all get to the hotel where it’s warm and get that eye looked at. Arturo’s going with you. I have something to check out.”
The expression on her face hurt my heart. “Can’t you let someone else go? You’ve done enough.”
“Ethan and the guys need to make sure everything’s buttoned down here. They’ll have their hands full.”
“Take someone with you.”
I glanced around, but saw no one I could trust, or a life I could risk, other than my own. “I’ll be all right.”
She kissed me on the cheek. “They say your daddy was in the middle of all this. He was in the fighting on the other end of the building.”
I looked in that direction like I could see through the snow. “Well, it don’t surprise me. Is he all right?”
“Ethan said he was. Him and Gabe and the Mayo brothers were the ones who blew the doors in.”
I wanted to laugh, but my back was hurting too much. “I’ll be back pretty quick.”
She put her arms around the twins. “Come on, Arturo. Let’s go.”
Jerry shrugged her arm off. “I want to go with you, Dad.”
I stopped him. “Hold your horses. Give that gun up to one of the deputies and stay close to your mother. I’ll be back soon.”
“I need to do my part.”
“You’ve done it.”
“No, Dad, you know what they did up there.”
“I know, but you’re not.” I gave him the look reserved for when I was pissed, and it worked. His shoulders slumped.
Kelly kissed my cheek and took a measure of my bloody, dirty clothes. “Do what you need to do, but be careful, cowboy.”
Mary hugged my neck and took her brother’s hand. They followed Kelly toward the Posada with Arturo in tow.
I trotted across the street and down the sidewalk toward the dually pickup and trailer. Tracks crisscrossed the street. A fresh line of footprints cut south past th
e truck and came back, overstepping the first. A distinctive third line trailed away.
Then I found a body in front of the truck.
Chapter 95
It may have been a mistake to come back and kill the man. Nonetheless, DeVaca was pleased with how easily the knife had severed his spine. It helped make up for the lost containers of gas and sated the Demon for a while.
A dull roar followed by the shriek of a train whistle filled the air. He broke a path through the undisturbed snow, hurrying down the sidewalk past houses and a brick church. The surprising weight of the canister slapping his back with every step slowed his progress. Worried that he was leaving a distinctive trail, he increased his pace to a slow jog.
The silent houses ended at the practice field behind the high school. His footing felt different as he reached a wire fence, telling him that a secondary road led around the schoolyard and behind a neighborhood. He picked up his pace, circling the campus in near-whiteout conditions, and threaded his way through side streets clotted with abandoned cars.
His chest swelled with excitement at how much terror their takeover had inflicted on the town and ultimately the nation. He knew it was spreading in ripples like a stone thrown into a still pond.
He slowed and stopped, sucking frozen air and considering the idea of cutting across the practice field to the school. On a normal day, it would be full of parents concerned about their kids.
His heart fluttered at the thought of slipping in one of the back or side doors and opening the gas. The attraction of still another attack was as exciting as the lost prospect of Dorothy in his arms.
If I had a little more time, he thought. But his time was up. The shriek of an approaching train whistle said he needed to hurry.
With another earsplitting whistle, an eight-thousand-foot coal train materialized through the snow. The heavy storm hadn’t impacted its speed as much as DeVaca expected.
Ducking his head, he fought the knee-deep snow as the rumble of steel wheels on the tracks roared louder. DeVaca passed the last of the houses and broke into an open field. Though the wind swept the open area, the snow was still deep enough to slow his progress.
Gasping, he forced his aching legs higher to fight the snow’s resistance, relieved to see the rails were level with the surrounding landscape and not on a higher grade.
It would be easy to swing aboard.
Chapter 96
One thing about snow, you can’t go anywhere without leaving a trail.
You don’t need a lot of skill to follow fresh tracks neither, which was right up my alley. I could tell right quick which ones were his. The deeper, sharper prints led southwest, toward the edge of town. I wondered if the guy had it in his head to try and get away in the wide-open ranch country that bordered our town. It would have been idiotic. A man would freeze to death in no time out there.
I wasn’t afraid I’d lose him, but there was a good chance he intended to hole up somewhere ’til the storm cleared. I doubt he knew anyone was after him, but a guy like that would watch his rear to be sure.
Seeing him wouldn’t be easy through the storm. He could be anywhere, behind a parked car, or around the corner of a house. I caught the distant whistle of a train and stopped, looking at the trail leading toward the tracks.
“Son of a bitch.”
He had an escape plan after all, and that was to hop the train as it slowed down through the city limits. It became obvious that I was following the head of that snake I’d been fighting all day.
Chapter 97
Sheriff Ethan Armstrong barely registered the train whistle.
Fire Chief Jack Barker joined him at the door of the shot-to-pieces sheriff’s office that was fast becoming a frigid secondary CP. “Ethan, we have more than two dozen people hurt or dead out here.”
“I was afraid of that. How many civilians?”
“I don’t have an accurate count yet.”
“Any of my men?”
“Yessir. Deputy Malone told us about Eric Goodlett getting shot down at the outset. We have his body. Todd Calvert’s, too. Two more wounded, one critical. We found Ben Carerra dead not far from Burt Bowden’s truck.”
Ethan knew the heavyset man with a thick girth. “Ben’s the owner of Big Bend Pizza.”
“That’s him.” Barker’s eyes filled. “He was a good friend, and someone stuck a knife in the back of his neck.” Gathering himself, the chief cleared his throat. “There’s more bad news. Burt’s behind the wheel with his throat cut. Lots of tracks around there, and two sets leading away.”
Ethan’s heart sank with understanding. “All right. Get a couple of badges to follow those tracks.” He shot a glance toward the filtered glow over the Fire Chief’s shoulder. “Y’all gonna get that fire under control?”
A hundred yards away down West Charles Street, the house was fully engulfed, but visibility was so bad neither could see those fighting the blaze.
Barker slipped both hands into his coat. “It’s far enough away from the others that we don’t have to worry about it spreading.”
Once again, the sheriff relied on the deputy who’d been at his elbow throughout the entire ordeal. “Frank, see if you can find half a dozen men to go in the courthouse. I want to make sure it’s secure before we do anything else. There may still be civilians inside.” The unflappable deputy hadn’t slowed one whit. “These boys are still charged up, so that shouldn’t be too hard.”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. This one’s volunteer.”
“I’m in.”
Wish I wasn’t, Ethan thought.
Chapter 98
DeVaca felt light as a feather when he drew close enough to the tracks to see the train through the whiteout, but his sprits sank at the sight of nothing but a mix of boxcars and flatbed container cars. The weather had impacted the schedule up and down the track, stalling the car haulers he was expecting.
His composure slipped as he stared at the passing rail cars with an unfamiliar sense of failure. The Demon screamed in fury. DeVaca stopped himself from clawing his face in frustration.
A car hauler would have provided the perfect escape. It would have been easy to hop aboard, break into a vehicle to hot-wire the ignition, and ride in warm luxury to El Paso.
The mixed cargo train was heading south at a much higher rate of speed than he’d anticipated. He rushed forward and ran alongside, hoping to swing aboard. The thundering steel wheels filled the air with a cloud of ice crystals that blended with the falling snow, making it even harder to see. DeVaca soon slowed, realizing that even if he’d found something to grab onto, the velocity would have jerked his arms out of their sockets.
He stopped, panting great clouds of white vapor. True to form, the terrorist studied the passing train without expression. “Puta tu madre.”
Chapter 99
Footprints through the deepening snow led past scattered houses at the edge of town. Drifts caught in the branches of the bare cottonwood trees. In the summer, the houses and trees looked lonesome and dispirited, but with thick snow, yellow kerosene, and candlelights in the windows, they were living Thomas Kinkade paintings.
I followed the trail around a tall yucca and past a snow-covered pickup. At first it looked like I was mistaken about the train and thought the guy was headed for the house beside it. My neck prickled at the thought of still another hostage situation, but the prints followed a pipe fence that disappeared into the falling clouds and wound back toward the tracks.
The familiar area off Oak Street was a gravel road, and I knew it dead-ended at a corner fence post on the edge of an open lot. I was close enough to see the vague shape of Ballard’s defunct feed mill and its four tall steel silos connected by the long, angled transfer augers. A train growled past in a long blur in front of the silos.
I stopped to study on it.
That was his escape plan!
I plucked the cell phone from my back pocket and thumbed it to life. A warning popped up.
&n
bsp; Low Battery
10% Remaining
Hoping that infernal device had enough juice to send at least one more text, I thumbed a message to Ethan.
Terrorist on south bound train.
Eight percent left.
No more time.
I had a train to catch.
Chapter 100
Deputy Malone and Mr. Beck Terrill described what they’d seen inside, including Sonny’s report of what he believed to be nerve gas. Ethan sent one deputy and three war veterans in Hazmat gear to the south entrance of the courthouse with strict instructions to enter only if they heard from him. He planned to lead the final squad through the north doors.
“Boys, we’re not going to touch those containers. Whoever gets here first’ll take care of that. We’re clearing the building and gathering up any other hostages. That’s all.”
Since there hadn’t been any action from the east and west entrances, he placed two-man teams at a distance to act as sentries.
Ethan studied the faces of the men and women around him—people who worked hard every day to get to heaven but found themselves in a situation where they might have to take even more lives. Others had seen war in Vietnam, Iraq, and Afghanistan, but something about fighting on home soil put a different look in their eye, one that was full of white heat.
Chapter 101
DeVaca stood in two storms, one delivered by nature, the other blown upward by the passing cars. He was rooted to the frozen gravel ballast, feeling the weight of the gas container on his back and a deep vibration in his chest.
He studied the flashing cars through foggy glasses. His attention focused on a flickering image between them, reminding him of a black-and-white silent film.
Another train idled on the shoofly.
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