by Robena Grant
Henry finished the juice, took off his sweatshirt, and then pulled a t-shirt over his head, revealing white wrinkled skin that puckered in the early morning chill. He put the tee shirt between his thighs and wriggled back into the sweatshirt.
“What are you doing?” Michael whispered.
“Need to release that tourniquet. Then rewrap your arm.”
Henry proceeded to tear at the shirt with his teeth. Once he’d made a hole big enough he tore the material into strips. “Never did say who you are,” Henry said. “But I think I got it all figured out.”
Michael watched as the old guy removed the bandana, and carefully cleaned his wound.
“I’m Detective Michael Delaney,” he said softly, trying not to wince at the throbbing wound that pained in his arm.
“Younger said you’re shacking up with my girl.”
“Did he?” Michael raised an eyebrow, and watched Henry closely as he began to apply the bandage. The pressure of the new bandages made him feel better, even though Henry’s pale blue gaze turned steely. He figured he owed him an explanation. But what exactly could he say?
“He said he’d kill you both,” Henry said. “If I didn’t talk.”
“And you didn’t talk because…?”
“Because I didn’t know anything,” Henry said, and then shrugged. “I figured it was better to listen. To wait and see what would go down.”
“Thanks,” Michael whispered, when the last bandage had been applied.
“No problem. It’s gonna be all right. You’ll survive. Bullet went right out the other side.”
“Good to know.” Michael had imagined a bullet lodged somewhere, shattering bone, destroying nerves and blood vessels. He’d get medical care soon, if they survived. Intravenous antibiotics, and replace the blood loss and the electrolytes, get a shot of morphine, and all within a few hours. That is, if Big attempts an escape. Maybe he’d be lucky and an infection wouldn’t have time to set in by then. If Henry could hold out for two weeks with the Suarez brothers, he could survive a flesh wound. “Want to tell me your story while we wait?” Michael asked Henry.
“Want to tell me what’s going on between you and my girl?”
Michael smiled. He was a crafty old fox. “I’ve grown very fond of your granddaughter. I’d put my life on the line for her.”
“Good.” He mulled that over for a few minutes. “My story is gonna take a while.”
“We’ve got time.”
“Where do you want me to start?”
“How about why you were taking photographs of Jack?”
Chapter Eighteen
Rachel, Manuel, Jack, and Ralph picked their way carefully toward the river. On the opposite bank they could see four Latino men hiding beneath the low lying Tamarisk trees. They immediately took cover themselves, and Rachel put her hand over Ralph’s mouth.
“No bark,” she whispered. “Good dog.”
“They’re well-armed,” Jack whispered, and shot Ralph a look of part fear, part silent prayer.
It was too late now. They’d have to trust that Ralph would not alert anyone of their hiding place. Rachel watched the men. About five minutes later, one guy picked up what looked like a rifle. She looked over at Jack.
“AK-47’s. Assault rifles,” he whispered. “Same babies that shot up Henry’s cabin. Manuel informed me.”
She let out the breath she’d been holding. Of course, and she knew Manuel was a good guy. They’d already been over that. She wouldn’t have let him anywhere near Michael if he wasn’t of decent character. “What do we do?”
“Wait,” Jack said. “They look like they’re getting ready to move on. If they do, we’ll cross the river. It looks shallow here.”
Rachel nodded. The gang member who’d remained standing pulled something out of his pocket. She couldn’t tell what but thought it might be a cell phone. He waved his rifle, and gave the other men the sign to move forward. Then he strode ahead. The three men stood and followed. One went to either side and slightly behind the front man. The third man took up the rear, stopping every few feet to look behind him. Once they’d moved deeper into the trees, Manuel reached over, touched her arm, and indicated they should follow them.
Jack stood for a moment and eyed them both. “Here’s the plan. I’m tracking them. If things get sticky, you guys take off. I’ll find my own way back. You two go that way, up onto that ridge and wait.”
With Ralph tucked inside her jacket, Rachel stepped lightly across the rocks. Jack gave one last signal for them to move up the river bed a little way, and then to go up the rise. Then he disappeared. She understood this was better than following exactly in the bad guys’ footsteps. They reached a rocky part of the rise and continued down it, sticking to the heavier undergrowth and larger boulders. She could see the back of a cabin, and in the distance, the helicopters and the Humvees.
Halfway down the rise they heard sounds and stopped. They lowered themselves to the ground and waited. Rachel scanned the area and pointed to the heavy footprints in the sandy soil around them. Manny nodded. Looking down she noticed the sheen of blood on several rocks. Had one of the bad men been injured? Or could this be from Stanton, or Mantis…or Michael?
Manuel saw what she was looking at and raised his eyebrows. Then she realized the bad guys hadn’t walked in this direction, and her heartbeat raced in fear. She put Ralph on the ground and he sniffed and ran around a little. His tail wagged and then he tried to follow the trail. It looked like someone had been dragged through the sand toward the cabin.
Rachel scooped Ralph up, and buried her face in his fur. Please God, oh please, don’t let Michael be dead.
****
“See, it was like this,” Henry said. “I knew some drifter had holed up in the bait shop.”
“Did you see him?” Michael asked.
“Yeah. Younger ventured outside, on occasion. He’d hidden his car way down the beach, between my place and the neighbor’s date palm ranch. My neighbor is in rehab, so nobody detected it. But, hell, I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“Take your time.” Michael eased up, and peered across to the cabin. The door stood open, but there was no movement from within.
“Well, I know Jack Fischer. He’s a friend of my granddaughter’s. I went to his wedding ‘cause he married a local gal. But I knew his history. He works now as a private eye.”
“Yes. I’m aware of that.”
“So anyway, I saw him down in Desert Scapes—great name that—makes me think of desert escapes.” Henry laughed softly. “Like anyone would vacation in that hellhole. Then he showed up peering in the bait shop windows.” Henry stopped talking every few sentences and inched up to look across the space toward the cabin.
The morning sky was getting lighter and Michael worried that they might soon be visible. The grave wasn’t deep. And neither man wore a hat, or had a hoodie, and both had light hair.
“It was early morning, somewhere around five,” Henry continued. “I like to watch for the Canada geese, and of course the white pelicans. Those birds arrive regular as clock work, but I knew I was a week or two early, so I figured I’d poke around a bit and see what else I could photograph. Am I going to slow?”
“No. Not at all. Tell me everything,” Michael said, trying to maintain his patience.
“When I saw Jack, I hollered. He didn’t hear me. Then I saw he had a gun drawn, and he kinda slid along the side of the bait shop, like he was on a case, or something.
“Well, I knew the guys had guns, because I’d seen Younger with one. I hollered again, and still Jack didn’t hear me. I jogged up the beach, but I can’t run too fast these days. Bad knees. So I stopped and started to shoot pictures. Figured if the men came out, I’d get evidence.”
“And did you take their photographs?”
“Nah. They thought I did. That’s why they took me hostage. They wanted the film.”
Michael twirled his fingers. “Go back a bit.”
“Jack saw me. I waved him
away, and put a gun, you know like two fingers to my head. He got the message, and took off, and both brothers came out, and I made a run for it. I knew one would chase me.”
“I’m not quite able to understand something here,” Michael said. “If Jack saw you taking photos, and then you disappeared that same day, why didn’t he come forward to the cops?”
“Nobody would have found me missing for a couple of days. Rachel checks in with me, but not every day. Probably did.” Henry shrugged.
Michael nodded. Jack was doing his own investigation. “So what did you do when the gunfire started that day?”
“No, they never fired. I took off in the other direction. I went to the cabin, hid the film, because to be honest, I didn’t know what I’d captured on those shots.”
“And then what, Younger followed you?”
“Yeah. Tied me up, blind-folded me. Dragged me to his car, and took off.”
“You hear anything?”
“Heard a lot of cursing…in Spanish.” Henry chuckled.
“Oh yeah,” he continued. “Also, a few cell phone calls about a gang needing to get down there pronto. A relocation plan. A sweep of the bait shop to make it look unlived in.”
“Was Big with you?”
“We made one stop. I knew someone else got in the car, but he didn’t speak much. We were in a cabin for a couple of days. They wanted to lie low, but they never trusted hotels, motels. They used a few torture tactics to get me to talk.”
“How did they stay in contact with the gang?”
“They visited late at night. They kept them informed. I’d hear bits and pieces of information. One of them wanted to kill me off.”
“It must have been hard on you,” Michael said.
“Tell me about it. We stayed in a freezing cold cave for a couple more nights, and then a tent in someone’s back yard for another. So glad when they figured it was safest to go back to the Salton Sea, a few days ago. Not because it was closer to home, and my Rachel, but because I secretly suspected that Jack could be watching the place.”
“Why do you think they kept you alive?” Michael asked.
“Good question. I think they were going to bump me off. That Arturo guy said it might be good to hold onto me. He’d said if they couldn’t discover the identity of the agent they were out to murder, I could be used to barter, if they were ever surrounded. And then Rachel turned up with a camera. And then you showed up.” Henry gave a short soft laugh, and took another look toward the cabin. “Barter. Like my life would be worth anything.”
“It is.” Michael touched his shoulder. “None of us want a civilian stuck in the middle of a drug war. We do everything in our power to get the citizen out safely. I know you went through hell—” Michael paused, cocked his head. Then he put a finger to his lips, and listened again. “You hear that?”
Henry pursed his lips and nodded. He pointed toward the rise. Then he turned his gaze to the cabin. Michael eased up, and looked back to the trees along the river. In the short distance, he saw a guy waving a rifle slowly, back and forth. He thought there were other men in the shadows but wasn’t certain, a slight movement here and there.
“We’ve got company. How many guys are in the Suarez gang?”
“Four.” Henry stuck a finger into Michael’s thigh, and then indicated the cabin. Michael took a quick look. Big stood on the back verandah for a second, and then he made a dash toward the river. He couldn’t run fast because of a limp. Michael let out his breath, realizing he had to let him go. He didn’t have the ammunition. He couldn’t risk Henry’s life.
Big stopped, turned, and stared at the grave, and then limped back toward it.
Shit. Michael raised his gun, fired, and felled the Kingpin. One clean shot.
Then all hell broke loose as four men ran out from the trees, and shots were fired from behind them. The gang ran across the sand toward the grave and their fallen hero, and all were firing with abandon. Michael fired, and missed. Then he slid in the last magazine and prayed. Then one gang member fell, and another. There must be a SWAT member, up on that rise.
Michael pushed Henry down. Then he eased up, and continued to fire. Someone fired from within the cabin. Gunshots rang out from the side of the cabin, and he took a quick look. Mantis leapt up onto the verandah, and disappeared inside. Seconds later, more gunshots were fired from a cabin window. Then someone up on the rise began firing at the gang members again. Michael held his gun steady, and aimed at the lead guy. Copters zoomed in. Humvees tore up the road, followed by emergency vehicles.
Michael got off his last shot. Arturo landed in a heap, beside his fallen hero.
****
Rachel held her breath. Jack had tossed her a gun before he left. Manuel aimed and fired. She followed suit. One of the four gang members fell. Had she shot him, or had Manuel? Either way the guy didn’t get up or fire back. A shudder ran through her body. She raised her gun again.
She thought it might be Mantis at the side of the cabin, but couldn’t be certain. Whoever fired and then ran inside gave back up. But there was a lot of gunfire coming from within. Maybe a SWAT team member had hidden in there? More gang members fell. She wondered who could be in the hole in the ground. Whoever it was had stopped firing.
Bedlam ensued down below. SWAT team members arrived, helicopters hovered, and emergency vehicles roared up the main drive. Men ran everywhere, and everyone shouted. A couple of ambulance medics came with a stretcher, and pulled someone out of the hole. She figured all the bad guys were dead or injured. She grabbed Manuel’s arm.
“I think that might be Michael on the stretcher.” She dug into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. It would be okay to call now. She got no answer. Manuel nodded, and tried to whisper something to her. Her thoughts were going in so many different directions, and they seemed so loud, like they were clamoring for attention. She couldn’t hear what Manuel said. Or she couldn’t concentrate or something. “Which hospital would they take Michael to?”
“I don’t know,” Manuel said, finally, and stood. He pulled her up to stand beside him, and he checked on Ralph. “Poor little guy. He’s shaking like a leaf.”
Rachel noticed Manuel’s hands were shaking when he reached out and patted Ralph’s head. Her entire body shook with the rush of adrenaline from the shootout, and now from the need to find out who had survived. She let Manuel support her weight for a few moments. Then he touched her hand that held the cell phone.
“No more calls,” he whispered.
“Michael works in Indio. He lives there. Maybe they’d transport him to JFK Memorial Hospital. Would it be the closest?” She kept her voice low, like his, but her panic rose, and her words were tripping over each other, and she felt tired and thirsty. And damn hungry. But she had to find out. She began to move, as if to run to the cabin. Manuel pulled her back roughly.
“They don’t know we’re here. They might think we’re with the gang.”
His eyes were filled with pain. Rachel pulled in a deep breath. Something was wrong. She’d been so caught up in her own thoughts his distress hadn’t registered. “What? What is it?”
He let go of his hold, and scuffed the toe of his sneaker at the soft ground. “I have a record.”
“A what?”
“Record,” he said. “Police record. Assault and battery.”
Such a big guy, and so strong, Rachel knew if he’d fought with someone the other person had not come out of the assault too well. But Manuel…her gentle giant? He looked so ashamed. “Did you do time?” she asked gently.
He shook his head. “The charges were dropped.”
“Well, that’s good,” she said, and took a couple of steps. “So, no problem.”
“I’d rather not go.” Manuel grimaced. “You don’t know how it is to be Latino in these parts. They don’t hear your story. And Arturo was my roommate. I’m going back to the car.”
Rachel nodded, and noticed how dispirited he sounded.
He shoved the gu
n inside his jacket. “I wouldn’t shoot anyone, except to help and protect you. And Michael had no chance against those assault rifles.” He began to walk away.
Ah, so that’s what his mood is about. She totally got it now. He tried to justify his actions. He’d probably never shot a human being before. Not even in self-defense. That had to be horrible to think about. And she knew she’d have nightmares about this for months, maybe even years. She hurried to catch up to him. Would their car still be there? Would it be surrounded by police vehicles?
Chapter Nineteen
When the ambulance arrived, Mantis yelled to the SWAT team that he worked with Michael and Stanton. Michael nodded his agreement, although he couldn’t find his voice, and nobody could see him anyway. Stanton rushed to Mantis’ side and seemed to be confirming that, although Michael watched it all from a distance, he could catch an occasional word, or a gesture.
He was a bit winded, needed to stay still and catch his breath before he tried to climb out of the hole. A tall, dark-haired civilian came out onto the verandah. He stood next to Mantis and they talked and gesticulated. Michael smiled. In a minute he’d wave his hand, and call out. Henry was already struggling to do that.
“Give them another minute,” Michael murmured. “Too confusing.” What a mess it was out there, bodies and emergency people and cops everywhere. He figured it was exactly like Mantis to have solicited the help of another civilian. Still, it looked like Stanton had a handle on who were the good guys, and who were the bad. Then it hit him. That was Jack Fischer. So who had been on the rise? Jack loped across the driveway, and then jumped into a vehicle as it prepared to take off. He must be happy to know his assassins had been dealt with. Probably he wanted to check out that Pedro had been captured or killed.
