by J. A. Kerley
I felt a splashing of cold water followed by a wiping with a towel. “Thanks,” I said. “How?… what?”
Novarro leaned over me like a cloud radiating light. “Merle was just over the rise, Carson. He shot Escheverría from six hundred feet away and atop a horse. But Ramon pulled the trigger when he got hit.”
I closed my eyes and saw again what I had thought would be the last thing I saw: a tiny and faraway cowboy on a horse.
I said: “It wasn’t a mirage.”
“Mirage? What?”
I waved it away. “Nothing. Escheverría … is he, is he—?” My mouth was too parched to continue. Novarro handed me the water.
A wry smile. “The infamous El Gila didn’t wait until nightfall to release his grip on life, Carson. He kicked the bucket on the way to the hospital. A good day for the gene pool.”
“Is Candace Klebbin in custody?”
“Candace is in the morgue.”
My head jerked up to face her. “What?”
“Easy, pardner,” She eased me back to the pillow. “When we got to her apartment she’d been shot in the head at very close range. Ballistics has already determined that the slug is from the same rifle used to kill Jeffrey Cottrell.”
“Who killed Klebbin? Do you know?”
“It could only have been her daughter, Rosa.”
My mouth drooped open. It was beyond words.
Novarro continued. “After killing Mama, little Rosa phoned an anonymous message to Maricopa County SD informing them that one Ramon Escheverría was in the south county desert whacking people. Rosa even gave map coordinates.”
It didn’t make sense. “Why the hell would Rosa send in the cavalry?”
“Money, of course, Carson. Rosa figured the cops would run into Escheverría on his way out of the desert and Mr Macho would go down fighting.”
Ah. “Leaving the full $20,000,000 to Rosa,” I said.
Novarro winked. “What Rosa didn’t know was that Merle and four DEA agents were already in the south county looking for smugglers. They got there a lot faster than little Rosa planned. Merle rode over the ridge, pulled up the binocs, and realized Escheverría was two eyeblinks from executing you.”
I’d been there before, having to make a snap decision followed by a snap gunshot, and suddenly realized there was more to Merle Castle than I had thought.
“I owe your former boyfriend my life,” I said.
“Yep … former boyfriend, which I think he’s starting to realize. Maybe you thumped some sense into him. Anyway, just buy Merle a steak dinner and a case of beer and he’ll consider it even.”
“I will,” I said, meaning it. My mind returned to the case, to Rosa Klebbin. “Killed her own mother?” I said, disbelief in my voice. “Cold as it gets.”
“Remember Dr Meridien’s last words regarding Rosa, ‘what does Rosa’s future hold?’”
I nodded. “She became a wind-up toy for Mommy. One even Mommy could no longer control. Where’s Rosa now?”
“In the lockup. We nabbed her on her way to the Cayman Islands. It’s a long story and it’ll wait. I want you to meet someone.” She turned toward the door. “Adam?”
I canted my head to see a skinny kid in a white tee with an Apple logo, grubby brown cargo shorts and blue skateboarder shoes, one untied. He looked as goofy and awkward as a hobbled flamingo.
“So you’re the mysterious Adam Kubiac?” I said.
He hemmed and hawed toward me. “I uh, want to thank you for what you did to save my money. Did they tell you the Feds got it back?”
“Not yet. But good. I’m glad.”
“I got suckered,” he said, having a hard time meeting my eyes. “Twice. Especially with Cat – I mean Rosa. It was like she was me. I felt … I felt …”
Novarro nodded. “Like I explained yesterday, Adam, she and her mother studied all of your sessions with Dr Meridien. Rosa Klebbin knew how to press all your buttons. She created a fake father to mimic your father, a way to gain your empathy and your trust. In a way, she became you.”
The kid kicked at the floor. “Well, yeah, y’know … like, thanks again.” He flicked a quick wave, turned and was gone.
I looked at Novarro who sighed and shook her head.
“The kid’s about twelve emotionally. Another reason Cottrell and the Klebbins were able to yank him around like a puppet.”
“I’ve met toasters with more charm,” I said, hearing the kid’s retreating shoes squeak down the hall. “Where from here?”
Harry moved closer. “I’m heading back to Miami directly. You’re here until you get released from rehab, when Roy demands you take a minimum six weeks of vacation. Real vacation this time.”
“Do I have any choice?”
“No,” Novarro said, standing above me like a beaming sun. “When you leave here you’re coming to my place. Ben’s re-registered in school, but he’ll be home for several hours each day and able to care for you until you can.” She winked. “And, of course, I’ll be there at night.”
“Settled.” Harry clapped the huge hands. “I’ll be heading back to Miami this after—”
We heard a fierce whining sound from outside, then a scream of tires on asphalt.
“Jesus,” I said, looking toward the window. “What the hell is that?”
Harry went to the window and looked down on the parking lot two stories below. “It seems Adam Kubiac is taking his leave in what looks to be a brand-new Ferrari.”
Novarro went to the window and watched. When the engine whine and screeching tires faded in the distance, she turned to me. “Te’aho’u’nona’ odango,” she said, the dark hair flowing as she shook her head.
I thought a moment and translated. “The world is one screwy place?”
She patted my hand and leaned to kiss my forehead.
“You’re getting good at this.”
Keep Reading…
If you enjoyed The Death File, why not try the previous book in the Carson Ryder series:
Only he will hear them beg for mercy…
Click here to buy The Apostle
About the Author
J. A. Kerley spent years as an advertising agency writer and producer before his wife demanded he quit work and write a novel, which he thought a fine idea. The result was The Hundredth Man, the first in the Carson Ryder series. An avid angler, bicyclist and hiker, Kerley has traveled extensively throughout the South, especially coastal regions such as Mobile, Alabama, the setting for many of his novels. In addition, he enjoys hiking in Arizona’s Sonoran Desert, its spare and rugged beauty forming the backdrop for The Death File. He has a cabin in the Kentucky mountains, which appeared as a setting in Buried Alive. He lives in Newport, Kentucky, where he enjoys sitting on the levee and watching the barges rumble up and down the Ohio River.
@jackkerley
Also by J. A. Kerley
The Hundredth Man
The Death Collectors
The Broken Souls
Blood Brother
In the Blood
Little Girls Lost
Buried Alive
Her Last Scream
The Killing Game
The Death Box
The Memory Killer
The Apostle
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
2 Bloor Street East - 20th Floor
Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
Lo
ndon, SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
