Backwater

by Carolina Mac

  “What the hell is it, Jesse?” asked the Chief, “You sounded stressed on the phone.”

  Jesse took a couple of minutes to calm his breathing. “Yeah, I guess it hit me hard after everything else that’s been going on. Let me make a copy for y’all and I’ll take the original down to the lab.”

  He made a quick photocopy touching only the edges of the paper and placed it in front of the Chief.

  Chief Calhoun adjusted his glasses and stared at the words. “Jesus Christ. What the hell are we going to do?”

  “How did you get this, Ranger Quantrall?” asked Special Agent Gene Wyman.

  “Someone drove right into my ranch and placed it on the doormat.”

  Blaine nodded. “One of Royce’s messengers.”

  “How many in his little army?” asked the Chief.

  “Let’s put pressure on Caldwell,” said Blaine. “Has he been transferred out or is he in our infirmary?”

  “Let me check,” said the Chief. He phoned downstairs. “Yep, he’s here.”

  “Are we telling the Governor about this?” asked Wyman. “She’s nervous as a cat after the guy was killed at the back door. I’ve added a lot more security, but I don’t think the added bodies are making her feel any safer.”

  “I better go over there,” said Blaine. “Maybe we should move her.”

  “If we do that, the press will find out and the whole mess will be public,” said the Chief. “We can’t let them think the Governor isn’t safe in her own house. What kind of a message does that send?”

  Jesse went to the door. “I’ll take this downstairs and see if Sue can pick up a print.”

  BLAINE followed Jesse downstairs and tapped on the door of the infirmary. He showed his creds and the nurse on duty showed him where Jason Caldwell, Attorney at law, was chained to his bed. Mr. Caldwell had been wounded in the leg in a raid on his hunting lodge where he had amassed a huge quantity of illegal weapons and explosives. The purpose of his cache had not been divulged.

  Caldwell was sitting up reading the Sunday paper and ignored Blaine standing next to the bed.

  “You’ll soon be transferring to Travis County to await your trial, Mr. Caldwell.”

  “Like I’ll ever come to trial. That will never happen.”

  “Have you thought about a plea?” asked Blaine. “I’m sure you have, you being a lawyer n’all.”

  “And what would I offer the esteemed Mr. Leighton?”

  “Senator Royce. You could deliver Royce.”

  “In return for what?”

  “For a lot less than you’ll get by protecting a man who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about what happens to you.”

  Caldwell went back to reading the paper and Blaine left.

  Once Royce is dead, Caldwell will get the max. His choice.

  WHILE he waited for Jesse in his truck, Blaine called Cat. “Are the good times rolling over on Colorado Street?”

  “Jeeze, I’m like a caged animal with a dozen keepers watching me through the bars. Are you coming over?”

  “Are you making me and Jesse coffee and a snack?”

  “You’re hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  “I’m all over it.”

  Jesse hopped in the passenger seat a little out of breath. “I hope the lab comes up with something. We need a solid piece of evidence.”

  “I told Cat we were coming over and to make us some food.”

  “I was in the middle of breakfast when I left the ranch,” said Jesse. “I could eat.”

  “Gene is worried,” said Blaine. “You can see it in his face.”

  “If somebody broke into her office with no trouble,” said Jesse, “Gene has be thinking an inside man. Someone who works inside the Capitol is on Royce’s payroll. There’s no other way.”

  “That means one of his own security people,” said Jesse. “That’s unsettling.”

  “And Fletch discovered the tape the night of the break-in had been tampered with.”

  “Did Gene question the inside team at the Cap?”

  “Yep, he did. Every last one of them.”

  “I guess if one of them is a good liar Gene wouldn’t be able to tell. There’s so goddam many security people at the Capitol.”

  “They were all vetted when they were hired,” said Blaine.

  “Not hard to put a ringer in,” said Jesse, “using some other asshole’s creds.”

  Blaine parked, and as they ascended the front steps one of the men on the security team opened the door. Catherine was waiting for them in the foyer. Her face was pale, and Blaine was sure she’d lost more weight.

  He tried to be upbeat. “Hey, no Sunday afternoon party going on here?”

  “Nope. Life is boring in the big house.”

  Blaine chuckled. “We’re here now and Jesse is every inch the party animal. He’s been in more bar fights than you can imagine.”

  Jesse shook his head. “That was when I was younger.”

  “That was three weeks ago.” Blaine laughed as Catherine led them into the sitting room.

  An oval silver tray sat on the coffee table laden with coffee fixings, a platter of sandwiches and a fancy glass dish overflowing with pecan tarts and lemon squares.

  Blaine helped himself to a sandwich. “Roast beef. Looks good. I missed breakfast and it was a big one too. Annie and Neil slept over and there was stuff in the oven when I had to leave. Pissed me off huge.”

  “Where did you have to go?”

  Blaine shrugged it off. “Oh, a shooting. We had it covered.”

  The Governor glanced at Jesse as he took a pecan tart from the plate. “Tell me why y’all are here in the middle of your Sunday off. I know it’s not just because I’m lonely and freaking out over Royce.”

  “Umm…” Jesse started. “A threat was delivered to me today by hand, and I didn’t want to frighten you, but also I don’t want to keep you in the dark because then you won’t be on your guard.”

  Cat stood up and paced over to the window and back. “I’m freaking now, Jesse. What did this threat say?”

  “Not much, in fact it was only four words on a blank sheet of paper.”

  “Okay, tell me.” Cat stood with her hands on her hips.

  “The redhead is dead.’ That’s all it said.” Jesse sat the Governor in a chair, strode over to the sideboard and poured her a glass of wine. “The lab has the original and we’ll know more tomorrow.”

  “Royce,” said Cat. “That fucking Royce. He’s off his rocker.”

  “That could very well be true,” said Blaine. “Each move he makes is bolder than the last. He’s a psychopath and he’s sure he won’t get caught.”

  “He seems to have no fear of it,” said Jesse. “But he’ll make a mistake and his life will be over. Guaranteed.”

  Giddings.

  JESSE arrived back at Quantrall and had time for a quick shower before Jamie arrived for Sunday dinner. When he’d invited her, he’d had no idea he’d be working all day. A rest was what he desperately needed, but there was no time.

  He and Tyler walked outside onto the porch to have a beer and there she was. Jamie jumped out of her pickup looking gorgeous in tight black jeans and a frilly white blouse. Her blonde hair hung down long and wavy—she never wore it like that for work.

  Jesse walked down the steps to meet her and held her in a hug. “You look fantastic,” he whispered. “I’m thinking bad thoughts already.”

  “Maybe those are good thoughts in my book,” Jamie said, then she giggled. “Am I on time?”

  “You’re perfect. It’s me running behind because I had to work all day. We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I want to get you a drink and show you my beautiful little girl.”

  “Can’t wait to see her,” said Jamie. “She walked up the porch steps and sat in one of the wicker chairs. “Hi, Tyler, how are things going for you?”

  “Good. Uh huh. Real good.”

  Jesse came out moments later with a beer for Jamie. He held the door open
and waited while Charity navigated the step down onto the porch. Jesse had dressed her in one of the outfits Annie had bought the last time she was in Vegas.

  “Here she is,” said Jesse. “Say hi to Jamie.”

  Charity toddled straight to Tyler, gave Jamie a look and said, “Ty, mine.”

  Tyler picked Charity up and cuddled her on his lap. “Are you being shy today?”

  She buried her face against Tyler’s chest and wouldn’t look at Jamie.

  Austin.

  AFTER DARK, Farrell headed downtown to look for Kamps or any of the other guys on his down-low payroll who happened to be working the streets. He had a stable of them now, but some were off and on. Most more off than on. Wanting the money he offered, but not trusting him because he was a cop. It was a thin line. Depending who was watching when he was in their territory, they would either talk to him discretely and disappear with his cash or pretend they didn’t know him.

  Farrell picked Grady’s pub to start. A run-down bar in one of the oldest areas of Austin. How Mike Grady managed to stay in business was a mystery.

  Inside, Irish music blasted out of the wall speakers at a high decibel level. No live music ever. Farrell took a booth not far from the door, ordered a pitcher of Shiners’ and waited to see if any of his contacts showed. He requested two glasses but emptied the first pitcher by himself.

  Mike the owner doubled as the barkeep. Heavy, slow and not too friendly, he trudged over to Farrell’s table, set the second pitcher down and was walking back to the bar when Kamps stumbled in.

  Kamps must have tripped or missed his step because he was a slinger, not a user. Before moving away from the entrance, Kamps took stock of the room. He spotted Farrell, nodded his bald head and swaggered over.

  “Any food?” Kamps sat down across from Farrell and reached for the empty glass.

  “Could be food,” said Farrell, “if you ordered some. You hungry?”

  “No time to eat since yesterday.”

  “Why? Business that good?”

  “Moving around a lot,” said Kamps. He filled the glass from the pitcher and drank half down.

  “Oh, yeah? Who’s on your ass?”

  “Those fuckin Thirteens are trying to take my alleyway and those mean bastards are hassling me day and night.”

  “Maybe you should hassle them right back,” said Farrell.

  “Can’t man. That would be a death wish. I’m an independent. Nothing I can do against them.”

  “Want me to do something?”

  “What the hell can you do?”

  Farrell shrugged. “You’d be surprised what I can do.” He motioned Mike over and pointed at the menu. To Kamps: “Tell the man what you want to eat.”

  “Burger and fries is good.”

  Mike nodded and walked away.

  Farrell leaned in closer. “What’s the word on the drive-by at the State hospital this morning?”

  “How much?” Kamps was all about the money.

  “Umm… let’s see,” said Farrell, “food plus beer. I guess I could do fifty.”

  “You’re shitting me, right?” Kamps flashed a grin and showed his gold incisor. “I need a Ben. Low as I can go.”

  Farrell pulled his wallet out of his jeans and took out the cash. “Okay. A hundred. I have to work for my money too, just say’n.”

  “Calling bullshit on that. I know that’s Super’s money and he ain’t gonna run out any time soon.”

  “You his financial manager?”

  “Could be if the job was open.” Kamps grinned. “My job is all about the math.” He reached for the hundred and Farrell kept his finger on it. “What I heard, okay? And that don’t make it the gospel. A guy walks up to Teddy and says he’ll lay a thousand on him for a quick drive-by at the hospital.”

  “Teddy Garza?” Farrell grimaced. “The Black Angels did it?”

  Kamps shrugged and waxed philosophical. “You only hear if you’re listening.”

  “Fuck that,” said Farrell.

  “Why do you care? You ain’t a brother.”

  “Don’t care. Didn’t figure them, that’s all.”

  Mike sauntered over with a burger and fries and set it down in front of Kamps. The big guy ate like he was starving.

  Giddings.

  WHEN it was Charity’s bedtime, Jamie followed Jesse upstairs to see the baby’s room and to watch Jesse put her to bed.

  “You’re such a good daddy,” said Jamie. “You must have learned a lot since she came into your life.”

  Jesse chuckled. “Ty and I were nervous at first. Nervous doesn’t really cover it. We were petrified. We panicked every time she cried.”

  Jesse sat in the rocker and read Charity a story before he put her in her crib. She pointed at some of the pictures and jabbered away in baby talk.

  Once she was tucked in and Jesse had kissed her half a dozen times, he and Jamie moved next door into Jesse’s bedroom.

  “Can you stay over?”

  “We both have work tomorrow,” said Jamie.

  “I thought I could lure you into an all-nighter,” said Jesse.

  Jamie smiled and sat down on the bed. “No, I didn’t bring my uniform, but I can stay for a while.”

  Jesse closed the door, locked it and turned out the light.

  Austin.

  ON THE WAY home to the Agency, Farrell took a detour to Kamps’ turf and it was just like the big guy said. Two or three Latinos in his alleyway and at both ends taking his customers. Farrell turned on the strobes and cruised in close. He hopped out of the truck with a shotgun in his hand, fired a shot in the air and the gangers ran like hell.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Monday, June 22nd.

  Austin.

  BLAINE was on his second pot of coffee by the time the crew arrived. They loitered in the foyer, petting the dogs for five minutes like they always did before settling in with mugs of caffeine for the meeting.

  Lily had started her list and was ready to rock. She was the best assistant a man could possibly have. Blaine paid her well and she was worth every penny.

  “Shit happened over the weekend and we’re gonna cover all of it and bust some heads today,” said Blaine.

  The boys grinned. They loved action.

  “Farrell, go first.”

  “Yep. Got a tip from one of my guys that the Angels were the ones gunned down the patients at the hospital. Might not be true but we have to check it out.”

  Blaine nodded and pointed the end of his pen at Carlos. “You and Farrell go find Teddy Garza and bring him in.” To Lily: “Get a list of known Angels from the gang squad and mugs if they have them.”

  Lily wrote it down.

  Before he could move on to the next item his cell rang, and the cat was on the screen. The Governor was crying, and she wasn’t a crier. “Slow down and tell me what happened.”

  “There’s a note on my desk from Royce.”

  “Did you touch it?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Don’t touch it. Leave it exactly where it is. Was your office locked?”

  “Yes, it was. I unlocked it when I got here five minutes ago.”

  “Did you call Gene?”

  “I called you first.”

  “I’m coming over. Don’t touch anything. Lock yourself in the office—you and Mrs. Warburton. Nobody else until I get there.”

  “I understand.”

  Blaine pressed end and shook his head.

  “What is it, boss?” asked Luke. “More mayhem coming down on the Governor?”

  “There’s a note on her desk and her office was locked,” said Blaine. He jumped up and grabbed his keys. “You guys stock up the unit and go back to surveillance on the penthouse.”

  “Is Royce back from his ranch?” asked Luke.

  “Go find out.”

  “We’re gone,” said Fletcher.

  “Call me with anything,” said Blaine. “This bullshit is gonna end.”

  Carm handed him a travel mug full of coffee and a t
aco wrapped in a napkin as he headed for the door.

  He slid behind the wheel of his truck and called Calhoun. “Morning, Chief. I need a forensic crew at the Capitol right now.”

  “What the hell happened, son?”

  “There’s a note on Cat’s desk and her office was locked.”

  “Fuck that,” hollered the Chief. “I’m sending Sue now.”

  “Thanks, I’m on my way over there.”

  FARRELL drove into Angels’ territory searching for Teddy Garza. He’d seen the big guy a couple times on the street, but never come face to face and never had occasion to arrest him—until now. “That’s their clubhouse.” He pointed at a store front that still had a bakery sign above the window.

  “Back exit?” asked Carlos.

  “I’d bet on it.” Farrell looked for a spot large enough to park his truck and didn’t see one.

  “Let me out and I’ll check the back.” Carlos put his earbud in and hopped out when Farrell slowed down. He disappeared down the alley between the two stores.

  Farrell parked half a block away and jogged back to the store. The front window was painted black and a hand-painted sign on the door said, Private. Fuck off.

  Farrell knocked and announced himself, knowing they would ignore him. “Police. Open the door.”

  He took a step back onto the sidewalk and fired a brick that he’d brought for the purpose through the front window. He drew his gun and ran to the door and as soon as one of the punks opened it, and he was in. He pushed past the kid who was hollering and cursing about the broken window.

  “I’m in,” he spoke into his mic to Carlos. To one of the punks sitting on the broken-down sofa: “Where’s the boss?”

  “I’m right here, Dead-Eye. What do you want?” Teddy Garza appeared out of a back room and he was high. Big guy, as tall as Farrell with a huge ‘fro that made his head look three times as big.

  “Need to talk to you downtown, Teddy. News says you did the drive-by at the hospital.”

  Teddy laughed. “News is wrong. Wasn’t us. We ain’t that stupid.”

  “Tell me who hired you, Teddy. That’s what I want to hear.”

  “Can’t tell you what I don’t know.” He backed up a couple of steps and three of his boys moved in closer.