Dark Money

by Larry D. Thompson

  When she saw a road sign advising that Big Spring was fifteen miles away, she had to make a decision. It was four in the afternoon. She was tired and her temperature now had to be at least 101. If she stopped at a motel, her infection was going to get worse. She made the decision to get a large, black coffee and continue driving.

  She stopped at the compound gate and hobbled to unlock it. She drove through and continued to her father’s trailer. He could send someone back to lock it. When she parked, she stumbled from her truck and pushed open the colonel’s door and collapsed in a chair. Pa was in the back and came rushing to her.

  “You don’t look so good, baby girl.”

  He felt her forehead. “Temperature must be a hundred and three.”

  The medicine cabinet was kept in last of four bedrooms in his trailer so that he could know when anyone in the compound was sick enough to need it.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He came back with a bottle of Ancef and one of hydrocodone. He poured a glass of water and shoved two of the Ancef and one hydrocodone into her hand. “Now, drink the whole glass of water. Doesn’t have to be all at once, but you’ve been sweating and I suspect you’re dehydrated.”

  Miriam drank about half the water. “Thanks, Pa. I think I told you that the mission went off without a hitch, at least until I got shot. I killed Hale and wounded the governor and that other guy just as you planned.”

  Van Zandt nodded his approval. “I knew you would do it right. Now, stand up and pull those jeans down to your knees. I want to have a look at that wound.”

  20

  It was Saturday afternoon, a crisp, sunshiny autumn day in Fort Worth. A cold front had blown through, leaving blue skies and temperatures in the upper forties. Perfect football weather for a Big Twelve battle between TCU and Oklahoma. Just a few years before, such a match-up would never have been considered by the mighty Oklahoma Sooners. TCU was considered a non-conference early season warm-up game by the football powers.

  It hadn’t always been that way. The Horned Frogs were original members of the old Southwest Conference, a major in every way until it collapsed in the eighties. Most of the bigger schools in the Southwest Conference joined with similar schools from the Big Eight to form the Big Twelve. TCU was left to wander the back waters of college football until Gary Patterson became coach. TCU and Fort Worth committed to rebuilding the Frogs to a major power, and Patterson did it. After Texas A&M left for the SEC, TCU was invited to join the Big Twelve and fought its way to the top. This year the Frogs were five and one, sitting atop the conference with another religious school, Baylor, and were playing for a berth in the final four. It was a long shot, but the number of undefeated schools in the country was down to two.

  J.D. Bryant had barely made it out of high school in Los Angeles where his mother moved him after divorcing Jack. In a bar fight where J.D. busted the heads of three guys who assaulted him. To keep him out of jail Jack flew to Los Angeles and struck a deal with the assistant district attorney: Drop the charge to a misdemeanor and Jack would get J.D. to join the Marines, never to be seen in Los Angeles again. Four years and two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan later, J.D. mustered out, now six feet four inches of chiseled stone. He announced to his dad, then a Beaumont plaintiff lawyer, that he was going to walk on the TCU football team. When J.D. made the team, Jack took his last big plaintiff verdict and retired to Fort Worth to watch his son play football.

  That was three years ago. J.D. now was a likely All-American tight end who had pro scouts drooling. A slightly smaller version of the Houston Texan’s J.J. Watt, he was fast, determined, focused and smart, carrying a 4.0 in computer science. Jack had not missed a game, at home or away, in the past three and a half years. Today was no exception. The investigation could be put on hold for a few hours.

  Jack and Walt were sitting on the back patio, waiting for Colby to finish dressing. Jack had been looking for an opportunity to bring up an issue. This was the time. “Look, I wasn’t there when the shooting started. You sent me to the front. Only before that I was watching what was happening on the stage. I saw your eyes darting around the room. I saw you reach for your gun. What were you thinking?”

  “Nothing,” Walt said without hesitation. “I’m always studying the room in that kind of situation. I don’t stop moving my eyes unless there is a reason. That’s how I was trained.”

  “What about reaching for the gun?”

  Walt’s eyes flickered. “I don’t remember doing that. I may have subconsciously done it when one of those damn balloons popped.”

  Jack leaned forward in his chair. “Walt, I’ve known you for over twenty years. I was there at the barracks. I know that you suffered from PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, you name it, for years. Were you having another flashback? Look, you can tell me. It won’t go any farther.”

  Walt sighed and hesitated. “I hadn’t had a flashback or any other post traumatic problem for more than ten years. That night when I looked at that mass of people in costumes, it happened again. I, I don’t know why.”

  “You tell the DPS psychologist?”

  “Can’t. He’d put me on indefinite leave. I can deal with it.”

  Before Jack could respond, Colby came from the back door. “Okay, you two, let’s get going.”

  Jack looked at Walt, nodded at Colby and they rose to join her. Jack concluded that he was going to have to be Walt’s sounding board and confidant. He knew that the worst thing that Walt could do was to keep his feelings bottled up. He would have to watch for other opportunities to continue the conversation. Jack, Colby and Walt loaded into the Bentley. Colby insisted that Walt take the front passenger seat.

  “So, you think that the investigation can get along without the two of you for a few hours,” Colby asked.

  “Yeah,” Jack replied. “Even if it couldn’t, you know I don’t miss a game. So far, we’ve come up empty-handed. We’ve expanded the search. Today, we put teams to canvassing motels and hotels as well as shopping centers. If they have cameras, we’re going to get their feeds for the week before the shootings and a couple of days after.”

  “Some people may think that surveillance cameras are infringing on their privacy, and maybe they are, but they have proved to be a giant help in tracking criminals,” Walt said. “Now, who’s favored today?”

  “Frogs by four. That’s mainly because of home field advantage. We’ll have time to go by the Frog Club and then head to our seats. I can pretty well size up how J.D.’s going to do, just by watching him warm up.”

  Jack parked the Bentley in a space with his name on it and led the way to a room fronting the end zone with twenty foot windows looking out onto the field. As they entered, he said, “It was right here that I first began to learn a little more about Colby. Folks kept asking her how Rob was. She brushed them off and changed the subject.”

  Colby blushed. “Rob was my late husband. He had an aneurysm and had been in a vegetative state for ten years when I met Jack. I didn’t want to tell him I was married.”

  “Someone killed Rob and a grand jury indicted Colby,” Jack added. “J.D., Colby and I eventually proved that he had been murdered in his bed at the nursing home by a serial killer who will go down in the criminal history books as The Dead Peasants Killer. That’s a chapter in our lives we’re glad is behind us. Hey, I see Joe over there.”

  Besides being a great trial lawyer, Shannon was an outgoing, gregarious sort, a born politician, who enjoyed mingling in any crowd and pressing the flesh. When he saw Jack, Walt and Colby approaching, he excused himself.

  “Let’s step over here by the window. Give me an update. By the way, Colby, you look beautiful as usual.”

  Colby smiled her thanks.

  “Sorry to say that we’ve struck out so far,” Jack said.

  Joe shook his head. “Damn frustrating. Three people get shot with two hundred others standing around and the shooter gets away. She has to be a pro.”

  “Good a guess as any,” Walt sa
id. “She had everything planned perfectly. Even when she got shot in the leg, she scaled the wall and managed to get away from the dogs, most likely by wading in the creeks. Probably not the first time she has done something like this.”

  “When the game’s over, I’ll have someone run all available data bases, looking for a woman who’s a hired gun. Should have thought of it before. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s former Mossad or KGB. Now we better get to our seats. I want to see J.D. score today. Go Frogs!” When they entered the stadium, Jack was focused on Walt, looking for any reaction to the crowd and noise. Fortunately, there was none.

  Oklahoma took the kickoff and marched down the field until the Frogs line held and forced a field goal. TCU returned the favor, only for seven points. At halftime the score was 28-24 in favor of the Frogs. The Frogs had the ball to start the second half. Coach Patterson called an end around, but it was not a wide receiver on the play. The Oklahoma defense and nearly everyone in the stands watched as J.D. dropped back to block, swiveled and ran behind Samuel Killen, the fifth year senior quarterback, who faked a pass long down the field, before slipping the ball behind his back to J.D. With 4.45 speed, equivalent to most wide receivers, J.D. ran for the left hash mark and turned up the field. He sidestepped one tackler and was on the move, all 250 pounds of muscle, barreling down the field. The Sooners had backs equally as fast, but fifty pounds lighter. J.D. stiff armed one of them and kept rolling. As he neared the goal, the safety dived in front of him in a last ditch effort, but to no avail. J.D. jumped the defender and stepped into the end zone. J.D. scored once more on a pass to the flat from the twenty. Final score: TCU 49, Oklahoma 38. TCU was now number four in the nation.

  21

  Jack retrieved his cane from behind the seat as Walt exited the passenger side of Lucille in the Harris Methodist garage. They punched the elevator button for the ninth floor and rode in silence. When they got off the elevator, Ranger Willis was still at the desk, partially blocking the corridor leading back to the governor’s room.

  “Morning, Sergeant. I hear that Governor Lardner is feeling better.”

  “Yep. He’s about to kick the door in. Doc says another twenty-four hours and he can probably head back to Austin. You can go on down there. He’s expecting you.”

  When they got to the room, two agents, obviously known to Walt, were sitting on either side of the door. “Morning, Walt. You doing okay?”

  “Hanging in there. This is Jack Bryant. He’s the special prosecutor and a longtime friend of mine.”

  Both of the agents rose to shake Jack’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Jack. Walt was telling me about you when he called to set up this meeting. Investigation turning anything up?”

  Jack grimaced slightly. “Dead ends, so far.”

  “Walt, just knock on the door. Wolf’s expecting you.”

  Walt tapped on the door with the knuckle of his index finger.

  “Come on in,” the governor said.

  They entered the room to find Governor Lardner sitting in a lounger, pushed back to a reclining position with the Wall Street Journal on his lap and the television turned to CNBC. Susan was sitting in a straight back chair on the other side of the bed, a book in her hand.

  “Come in, Walt. This must be Jack Bryant.”

  Jack walked over to shake the governor’s outstretched hand. “My pleasure, Governor.”

  “Have a seat. I convinced the hospital to get me a few extra chairs. Let me mute the volume on this program. First, Walt, I want to thank you for getting Susan and me out of that ballroom.”

  Walt shook his head. “I’m sorry, Governor. I was supposed to take that bullet. I was wearing a vest.”

  “Nonsense. In hindsight, I was a damn fool for even being there. I should have listened to you and put my mug up on a big screen. Nothing you could do about that first bullet. Your fast action probably saved my ass. A second bullet would have done me in. Not to mention that you guys got Susan out of there safely. Now, tell me about the investigation. By the way, I’m trying to convince my doctor to discharge me in time to make Edward Hale’s funeral tomorrow morning. They postponed it because so many Republicans are coming from all over the country.”

  “Governor, I just told this to the agents in the hall,” Jack said. “All dead ends, so far. We’ve got a big task force working. I’m still hopeful that we’ll get a break.”

  “Is it true that the killer is a woman?”

  “Yes, sir,” Walt said.

  “I suppose that made it a little easier for her to go unnoticed. No one expects an assassin to be a woman.”

  “Governor, did you see anything, see her, maybe? She was dressed as cat burglar.”

  Lardner scratched the several day old stubble on his face. “I’ve been thinking about it. All I really remember was this sea of costumes that we walked through and that I looked down on from the stage. I understand that she was shooting from over near the patio doors, but nothing caught my attention.”

  “Not a surprise, Governor. I was right there with you. It was my job to spot her and I was no help. Speaking of the funeral, I’ll be there tomorrow, too. You know that I’ve been placed on suspension until the Rangers do their investigation. So, it will be in an unofficial capacity.”

  Lardner frowned. “You okay with that? Not your damn fault.”

  Walt dropped his gaze to the floor and hesitated before he looked again at the governor. “I don’t like being suspended. It eats at me every day, but I don’t have any choice. That’s our protocol. Hopefully, everything will come out all right in the end.”

  Jack looked at his friend, knowing that he was keeping his emotions pent up. He could only hope they could wind this up quickly so Walt could get back to his work and family before they erupted.

  The next day Jack and Walt drove to the First Methodist Church just west of downtown. They got there early and took positions, standing at the back of the church where they could watch the mourners arrive. The church filled rapidly, as if those attending worried that they might not get a seat. Of course they were correct. Thirty minutes before the service was to begin, the sanctuary was at capacity and the later attendees were shuffled off to an adjoining room where they could observe by closed circuit television. The exceptions were dignitaries, politicians and billionaire friends of the Hales as well as family. The first fifteen rows were cordoned off for them. Governor Lardner arrived in a wheelchair just before ten. He and Susan were escorted to the third row. He remained in his wheelchair and Susan took an aisle seat that had been reserved for her. Jack noted that somehow Kevin O’Connell had an aisle seat in the fifth row. Four members of the protective detail took positions along the wall, vigilant to make sure that nothing more happened to the governor. Jack and Walt studied each person who entered. After the overflow room opened, Jack moved there and took a similar position at the back.

  The organist stopped, and the minister came from the right to take a seat. He was joined by two other men. Last, Edward Hale’s family came from an anteroom to occupy the first two pews. When the service began, Jack slipped out the front door and saw various law enforcement officers. He recognized a couple of them from the investigation.

  “Morning, officers. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Just your average goat roping.”

  One of them smiled at Jack’s description of the funeral. “No, sir. Looks routine to us. We’ve got Greenwood Cemetery locked down for now. No one will get in until Mr. Hale is buried. We also got permission to set up temporary cameras at the entrance and in the trees around the grave site. We’ll remove them and take them to the station as soon as the service ends.”

  Jack’s cell sounded. “Jack, Lance White here. I figure you’re probably at the funeral. I couldn’t make it. Can you talk? I think we may have something.”

  “Go on.”

  “We’ve had a bunch of officers from all of the services checking motels, Ridgmar, other shopping centers in the area that might have cameras. We’ve found two th
at have images that may be useful, one at Ridgmar and one at that Hampton Inn on I-30.”

  “How quickly can I see them?”

  “You name it.”

  “Walt Frazier is here with me. Shannon is inside. He may want to see what you have. I figure the service will be over and the church will be clear in about an hour. Doesn’t sound like I’ll be any help at the cemetery. Let me suggest that you bring them to my house. I’ve got a giant television with the best clarity available. Here’s my address. The gate will be open. Pull around to the back when you get there.”

  22

  Jack and Walt were sitting on the front porch when Joe turned into the driveway, followed by Sheriff White. They pulled to the back. Jack and Walt walked down the driveway to greet them. As they approached, the sheriff opened the back door of his car and pulled a backpack from the seat.

  “Never liked carrying around a briefcase. Backpack serves me fine.” The men shook hands all around.

  “Come on in,” Jack said. “Colby’s home today. I asked her to make us some sandwiches.”

  Colby was placing a platter of ham and turkey slices on the kitchen table. Jack introduced Lance to her.

  “Now, Colby,” Joe said, “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

  “Come on, Joe. Cold cuts from the fridge, bread, mustard and mayo, a little lettuce and tomatoes with a bag of chips. Yeah, I really slaved for you. Help yourselves. Who wants tea and who wants water?”

  The men loaded plates. Jack led them into the media room and showed which button to push to have a tray pop out when they took seats.

  Lance looked around the room. “Boy, you’re right about that television. I saw one that size in a sports bar a while back. I may need to borrow it on another case some day.”

  “It’s yours,” Jack replied. “Just give me a little notice. If you’ll hand me whichever video you want to start with, I’ll load it.”