El Gavilan

by Craig McDonald

  She had told the woman she already thought of as a sister-in-law everything.

  Salome listened and said, “It’s only about two hours’ drive, Patricia. If Tell’s going to be long away, and you think this guy Shawn might really try something through others—because clearly in his present condition he’s going nowhere himself for a long, long time—Chris’ll be eager to come over and keep you company. He’s having a hard time not inviting himself over there as it is. Chomping at the bit to try and nose into this investigation of Tell’s.”

  “Will do, but for now, I’m okay,” Patricia had said.

  Salome had then quizzed Patricia further about her bouts of sickness. Salome asked, “Any sequels?”

  “No, none,” Patricia had said.

  “It’s after one o’clock,” Salome had pressed further. “Day’s gotten on into afternoon … morning’s far over. You hungry?”

  “A bit.”

  “What sounds good to you? What do you have a taste for?”

  Patricia thought about that, then said, “Chinese. Chinese sounds real good.”

  She could hear Salome’s resulting smile in her voice. “Tonight, when Tell finally gets home, whenever that is, you two go hit a Walgreens or CVS, yeah, Patricia? Go and get yourself a home pregnancy test.”

  Patricia had been delighted. “You think?”

  Salome had hesitated, then said, “I’m not saying. I’m just … saying. You know?”

  Patricia looked for a few moments at the phone she had just hung up. She took off her jeans and panties and T-shirt and bra. Naked, she walked to her bedroom, dug out her black bikini and made herself a tall glass of iced tea. She stepped out onto her deck and folded down a chaise lounge. The increasingly seedy neighborhood was quiet for the afternoon so she felt safe doing it: those who had jobs were at work; the others were probably still sleeping off hangovers and highs. She settled in with her iced tea and a copy of Tell’s cousin’s first novel.

  The deck was in the shade of the rooftop for the first hour, so Patricia read, resting on her back. When the sun reached the back of the building, she rolled onto her belly and undid her top so there wouldn’t be a tan line. She slipped on her sunglasses and sipped more tea from her sweating glass, its beaded surface slippery in her hand. She was reaching out to set her empty glass on the table, rising up a little so her breasts were exposed, when she suddenly had the sense she was being spied on. She settled back down, her breasts pressed to the lounge chair, and angled her book up and looked over its top at the parking lot.

  A red Dodge Ram pickup truck was parked below, its hulking mass blocking Patricia’s view of her own car parked alongside.

  Tell was right; the Ram was massive. It screamed of the compensatory purchase of an insecure, self-esteem-challenged asshole.

  A thin man with a shaven head sat in the pickup, trying to look as though he was reading a newspaper in his car in the 95-degree heat and 65-percent humidity. The price of gas had impelled the man to shut down the engine and he had both windows down, his sweating arm dangling out the window. Very little hair on his arm. There was no jewelry, not even a wedding band, on his long-fingered left hand.

  Patricia pretended to read her book for a time, studying him, committing things to memory. She guessed he was probably in his late forties or early fifties. He had a wormy, graying mustache. Patricia could only see the last three digits of his license plate; an ornamental shrub obscured the rest. The last three digits of the Ram’s plate read “3-7-8.”

  She waited another few minutes, turning pages she wasn’t reading here and there, staring at and studying the man from behind her black sunglasses. She put down her book and reached around behind her, refastening her bikini top. She stood and stretched and collected her book and empty glass and walked back inside.

  Patricia locked the sliding glass door to her deck and pulled shut the drapes, then called Tell on his cell phone. Five rings later he picked up. She told Tell about the red Dodge Ram parked outside and described the man sitting inside it in close detail. “It may be nothing,” she said.

  “You wouldn’t have called me if you believed that,” Tell said. “I was heading over to the station to meet Able Hawk. I’m five minutes from home. Stay inside and keep the doors locked. Don’t answer the door except to the sound of my voice.”

  Patricia hung up and sat down on her couch and looked at the clock. Edgy, she turned on the stereo, settling on Lucinda William’s “Sidewalks of the City.” The song’s refrain was a plea of assurance for the safety and sanctity of one’s private world. Patricia was startled by the ring of the phone. “I’m parked in the spot where the bastard was parked,” Tell said. “He’s gone. Gone before I got here. Probably gave up when you went inside and closed the drapes.”

  She said, “You will come up a moment won’t you?”

  “I’m running late already, but sure. I could use a quick lunch.”

  She looked down at her bikini, half-smiling. “Sure. We’ll keep it quick.”

  FORTY FOUR

  Able Hawk said, “You’re late, Lyon.” He was sitting at Tell’s desk, the chair tipped back and his feet crossed and resting on the corner of Tell’s desk.

  Tell strove for a nonchalant tone. “Something happened at home, Able. Had to swing by and make sure everything was okay. And I needed a shower after poking around that creek’s bed.”

  Able pulled down his feet and leaned forward. “What was up?”

  “A red Dodge Ram pickup truck was parked outside my place. It shook up Patricia. I think with good reason.” Tell related Patricia’s description of the man inside the truck.

  Able said, “A red Ram like on the tape you told me about.”

  “That’s right,” Tell said.

  “There are no coincidences,” Able said.

  “My thought too,” Tell said.

  “And the truck driver in question fled?”

  “Yeah, but not because of me. I think he left when there was no more to see.” Tell thought of Patricia in her black bikini. “He was gone by the time I got there. Patricia’s with her parents for now. I’m thinking of sending her east to stay with my cousin. She’ll be safe there.”

  “A fine idea,” Able said. “Particularly given your cousin’s spooky damned reputation. I’d urge action on that notion, Tell. At least maybe for a day or two. Until we get a firmer handle on the scale and dimensions of this thing.”

  “Probably will do that.”

  “Yeah, let that formidable cousin of yours see to her safety. Free you up to ride shotgun with me a few days. We might could wrap this damned thing up fast, working in tandem.”

  “I will, then.”

  “Good. Don’t suppose Patricia got a license number from that truck?”

  “A partial.”

  Able turned to Billy Davis. “What have you got for us?

  Billy said, “Shoot me what Patricia got from the plate, Chief. I’ll see if it matches anything I have here.” Billy was being cagey. Tell figured he either was hesitant to trust Able and share information, or shaky over something his license registration searches had turned up.

  “Three-seven-eight,” Tell said. “Those are the last three digits, Billy.”

  “It’s a match,” Billy said. “I have one here that’s AJL-378. Registered through Vale County. Boy. I really hoped it wouldn’t be that one of the eight possibles we’ve got here and the four that checked out as real license plate combos.”

  Able said, “Stop jawing, Billy. Give us the damned name that plate is registered to.”

  “Luke Strider,” Billy said. His voice was full of tension.

  “Name doesn’t speak to me,” Tell said.

  Able whistled low. “It does to me. Volumes. Fucking hell. Luke Strider is one of Walt Pierce’s veteran deputies.”

  Frowning, Tell took the report from Billy and looked it over. “Luke owns a 2003, red Dodge Ram pickup truck. Damn.” He said to Able, “You know this Strider at all, Able?”

  “Met h
im a few times briefly,” Able said. “I have no real sense of the bastard, though. Unremarkable. Didn’t impress me, but so few do. I will say that he meets the description of the man your lady said was spying on her.”

  Tell said, “You think he’s capable of murdering these women?”

  “Whoa, Tell.” Able shook his head. “Let’s not get ahead of our facts. I’m still trying to grasp this identification. Given the near misses with Shawn and with Amos, I don’t want to go off half-cocked, you know? Don’t want to tear off on some witch-hunt worthy of old Walt. I’m still trying to get my head around the fact our trail has led to Strider. He and Pierce go way back.”

  “So we do need to slow down and step careful,” Tell said. “I agree with that. If this is the guy, and if the guy we saw on tape with him is another Vale County deputy, this is going to turn into something wicked.”

  “You’re pretty grossly understating that,” Able said. “And even if it’s just Strider, it’s already something wicked and thorny as all hell. The politics of this are going to be lethal.”

  “I’m not ready to approach this bastard yet,” Tell said.

  “I’d counsel against it if you thought you were,” Able said. “It’s not time yet. Any way we decide to go, we have to factor Pierce and his possible reactions and actions into our plans. We have to have a firm handle on what his response might be. I’d predict scorched earth.”

  “There’s also the question of what his own culpability might be,” Tell said. He was aware now of Billy’s wide-eyed gaze roaming between Tell and Able. Tell said, “This has to stay between the three of us for now, right, Billy?”

  “Damn better believe it, skipper,” Billy said, wetting his lips. “I wish I didn’t know. Way I figure it, Sheriff Pierce might try to fuck this up for us on principle. Or, angling to protect his own, he might fuck us over, whether it’s the right or wrong thing to do in terms of justice for these women. He’s got a reputation for an extreme temper, Chief. He comes by that rep honest enough.”

  “Bill’s right that Walt’s well capable of lashing out in pique,” Able said. He smoothed his mustache over and over with his thumb and forefinger’s tip. “We push ahead quietly and carefully, like you say, Tell. What we have now isn’t nearly enough. All we’ve got is a blurry image and license plate—a half plate from Patricia and a full plate extrapolated by eggheads from that fuzzy film you found. It’s all real, but it ain’t nearly enough.”

  Tell nodded. “So we try to learn more about Luke’s movements. See if we can tie him to the other killings, which I’m now convinced are linked.”

  “And we stay in close touch, the three of us,” Able said. “This is cocksucking treacherous. I’d urge none of us to do any damned thing without consulting first with the other two. Walt or his gets wind we’re looking their way, it could be a bloodbath. Us looking to Strider and leaving fingerprints of our looking? Well, Walt could misconstrue our intent. Walt might realize the fact we’re looking to him as a suspect. That happens, I’d hate to predict his response. That’s why I say you should get your lady out of town, Tell.” Able looked at Billy. “You a single fella, Bill?”

  “I’m not married, if that’s what you mean.” Billy said, ashen.

  Able stood up and his knees cracked. “I gotta get on to elsewhere. Let’s convene again, but not here. Let’s plan on lunch tomorrow. Say Patricia’s folks’ place, Tell. Somethin’ like sanctuary. What do you say?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Tell said.

  “Think hard on this boys,” Able said. “Let’s have some ideas for action next time we meet.”

  THEN

  A cantina they used to drink in when they were peers. Springsteen’s “My Beautiful Reward” on the jukebox and sweating glasses of margaritas splashed with amaretto.

  Tell had been after Seth to allow him to place Seth’s name in the pool for possible promotion. Some stalwarts were retiring; opportunity, Tell said, loomed.

  Seth balked.

  At first Tell feared there might be jealousy or resentment bound up in Seth’s resistance.

  But that didn’t seem right or possible. While originally insisting he had no interest in climbing the ladder himself, Seth had urged Tell into accepting a bump upstairs. Seth figured time might have changed his friend’s mind about his own career path.

  But Seth still insisted he had no ambitions running that way. He craved, he claimed, no more than he presently had. “I just don’t want to think that hard for one thing,” Seth said.

  Tell persisted. Seth just shook his head. “I’m no family man like you, Tell. I like women too much and I don’t like bosses, not at all. I can follow orders only up to a point and I do it best at a distance. I like being alone out there on the road. Even with all that shit we see and endure, I’d rather be out there alone with my tunes, doin’ my job, than sitting behind a desk.”

  Despite the difference in their positions now, the two men had stayed friends. That had required a tightrope walk. Tell was just politic enough to know how things could be made to look—or how they might be perceived. You just weren’t supposed to fraternize with “subordinates.”

  Seth got that too. At the HQ they were cordial. After hours, they still drank in the same obscure little hole-in-the-wall cantina they’d chosen when all the usual, better-known watering holes on the other side became too crowded with the too familiar faces they’d caught and sent back across the line.

  The waitress plunked a bowl of oily nachos down between them. They tapped glasses and toasted Tell’s pending fatherhood.

  Seth scooped a heaping pile of salsa onto a sodden tortilla chip and said, “You should hand off this Angel Valenzuela thing, buddy. They don’t call him El Muerte for no reason at all, Tell. This is a bag of shit that can bring nothin’ but grief, brother. I mean it, buddy. Those assholes at the top have been after Angel for years. They call him the Angel of Death—our so-called superiors. The only one of us who ever supposedly came close to laying hands on the son of a bitch ended up getting himself killed. And it wasn’t slow by all accounts. Think on that last, Tell. Think on it hard. You’re the only friend I’ve got from the day job, and I don’t want to lose you. I’m pretty sure Marita feels the same way.”

  Tell just smiled and shook his head. “More so, I hope.”

  “Anyway, even if some lucky bastard does take Angel down, it won’t change anything in the long run, Tell. Not a lick.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Seth helped himself to another chip. “The Mexicans want to be on our side of the line. Every damn one of ’em, I expect. And people on both sides want their next fix or cheap-as-dirt illegal worker. So there’ll always be more of Angel’s kind to see to those wrong desires. There always have been, and there always will be. Short of building a wall a hundred feet high and ten feet thick along the border, end-to-end, there always will be ones like Angel. That’s just the way it is and nobody, least of all you and I, can change it.”

  FORTY FIVE

  Patricia hugged Tell hard. “It’s been my long day this time,” she said.

  Over dinner, she told him about Luz. She confessed about Shawn’s note and the photo he sent her. Tell looked grave and then, to Patricia’s eyes, angry.

  Patricia didn’t know that after she had confided Shawn’s note and e-mail to Salome, and Salome had told Chris, that Chris Lyon, fearing for Patricia and afraid she might keep it from Tell, had already tipped his cousin to Shawn’s threats. Tell had already promised himself a “chat” with Shawn in the morning.

  Tell said, “I want you to go to Cedartown for a few days, Patricia. I’ll drive you halfway. Chris will meet us in Morton Springs. He’s got business there, anyway. He’ll take you the rest of the way to his place.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said. “I don’t want to step on sensitive ground here, but not every case you handle is going to put me in danger, Tell.”

  “Stop right there,” Tell said. “We had this guy parked under our window watching you today
. This is a done deal. You’re going to Cedartown. I’m not going to risk having happen again—” He brought himself up short.

  Patricia knew where he was headed, of course. She wet her lips, nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll go there. I just hate you being alone.”

  “I’ll frankly be safer alone,” Tell said. “You’re a major distraction, Patricia.”

  She managed a smile. “I sure hope so.”

  He combed her hair with his fingers. “So that’s settled. You go and hang with Salome and Chris. Take a good look at that land they offered us to build on. Think about where the rising sun might fall on windows. Bedroom windows, particularly.”

  She nodded, smiling. “Have you thought more about that? Because, I have. I want to do it. I want to live there.”

  “I haven’t been here a month,” Tell said. “Seems wrong to be looking for another job already.”

  “But think of the fringes,” Patricia said. “You’d go in commanding a force that’s staffed with pros, according to Chris. You’ve spoken with Atchity. Did he impress you?”

  “Very much,” Tell said. “He’s like Able Hawk with a conscience.”

  Patricia didn’t know how to respond to that, so she said, “And we’d have Chris and Salome as neighbors. I like her very much. She’s like the cooler older sister I never had. Their kids are great and who better for our children to grow up around? I mean, if we have any.”

  Tell said, “And Chris?”

  His fiancée hesitated. “He’s scary in some ways. I read one of his books today.”

  “Yeah? Which one?”

  “The first, Parts Unknown. How much of that one is made up?”

  “He pretty much just changed some names. In terms of fiction, he didn’t have to make up a lot in that one. It was all tied to stuff from his reporting days. The Occam Butcher case was all too real. The killer really came after Chris, and after the women he knew at the time.”

  “Oh …” Patricia bit her lip and stroked a wing of hair behind her ear. “Like I said, Chris is scary. But strangely appealing. And I do feel safe around him. Don’t know how Salome lives with him though. The intensity that comes off the guy is exhausting.”