“There she is,” Jack said. A redhead was limping past the pickup, using a cane for support. She made her way to the building and disappeared under the cover where her father was. “Fox, we’ve seen enough. Thanks for your help. You can go back to patrolling the border.”
“My pleasure, gentlemen. Let me know when I can be of service.”
“It may be sooner than you think,” Walt said. “Colonel, can you burn a DVD of what we’ve seen today before I leave?”
29
Jack called a meeting of the heads of the local law enforcement agencies along with Walt and Colonel Burnside who agreed to fly to Fort Worth for the meeting. He scheduled it for his house because he wanted to confirm the understanding that he was in charge and had the last word. They arrived one by one for the two o’clock meeting. Jack greeted them at the front door and introduced them to Colby who led them into the media room where she had set up a side table with coffee, tea, water and soft drinks.
Colonel Burnside was the last to arrive. So the others talked TCU football as they stood around the table.
“Helluva season we’re having,” Joe said.
“Any chance we can be in the final four and contend for the championship?” Lance asked.
“Jack, you’re the inside expert. What’s your take?”
Jack shook his head. “All I know for sure is that J.D. is healthy. Beyond that, what you guys read in the newspapers is about what I know.”
“Then, we best win out and see what that damn committee does,” Roger Culbertson said. “Don’t like to leave it up to the subjective decision of the committee, but that’s what we have to live with. They should have put eight teams in the championship round. After all, we have sixty-five teams in March Madness.”
“I see Walt’s Crown Vic pulling up. He went to pick up Burnside at Meacham field. You guys take a seat. Controls on those fancy chairs are on the right arm rest.”
Walt and Colonel Burnside were met at the door by Colby who led them into the room.
“Sorry I’m late, gentlemen. Had to circle around a storm over Waco.”
Walt and Burnside both asked for iced tea from Colby and took two seats that had been left for them on the front row.
When they all were seated and Colby took a seat on the second row, Jack started. “Thanks to all of your efforts, we have identified the killer and tracked her to a compound in Loving County, about forty miles north of Pecos. You’ve seen the reports. She’s now a redhead. Still walks with a limp after one of Walt’s men managed to wound her. Here’s footage, compliments of the DPS, of the compound and specifically identifying her.”
He pushed a button on the remote and the footage started with images leading up to the compound, showing the gate, the Alamo, the shooting range, the ropes course with the weight shed beside it and the trailers. The footage went blank and then showed Miriam’s trailer with the pickup beside it and her walking with a cane to the building.
“Based on what we found in the motel room, she died her hair the morning after the attack,” Jack said. “No doubt she’s our gal. So, how do you propose to proceed?”
Silence filled the room as each of the men weighed the options.
“Colonel, is this one of those militia outfits that’s armed to the teeth?” Randall Meacham asked.
“We don’t know for sure. Only, we have to assume that they are well armed, assault rifles, grenades, probably a couple of snipers.”
“Then, Colonel, I have an idea,” Lance White said. “I’ve run across the sheriff out in that county a time or two. He’s reasonably honest. Why don’t I call him and see if he’ll serve the warrant on Ms. Van Zandt?”
“Suppose he agrees and she refuses to surrender. He can’t pull his gun. He’ll be outmanned about forty to one.”
“He’s not going to get involved in a gun fight. He either brings her back or he leaves.”
“I suppose it’s worth a try,” Walt said.
“But, we’re tipping her off,” Jack said. “What’s she going to do?”
“I don’t think she’ll run for it,” Colonel Burnside said. “She’s going to feel safer there than anywhere else. If we don’t at least try, we’re in for a fight, risking lives. Chances are slim, but it’s worth a shot. Still, I think I better alert the DPS SWAT team. And there’s one other potential benefit. If we have to raid the place and there are a bunch of casualties, we can at least tell the media that we tried to arrest her without force.”
30
Jim Bill Davis parked his white Ford F-150 pickup in front of the courthouse in Mentone. It had a red and blue light rack on top and a siren. Both were little used. Mentone wasn’t even really a town. No one had ever bothered to incorporate it. Besides, there wasn’t all that much to incorporate. At the last census its population was fourteen. The town consisted of a small café, a run-down filling station, an ancient post office that somehow had survived the postal service downsizing, a handful of houses, beaten up by the desert sun and wind, and a boxy, yellow brick courthouse that looked as if it had been designed with a child’s building blocks. Each of the buildings was dusted with a thick coating of sand. The courthouse contained the county clerk’s office, the sheriff’s office and a holding cell that was rarely occupied. On the second floor was a courtroom that was occasionally visited by the judge from Pecos, The town lined maybe a quarter mile of Highway 302. Beyond it on either end was the vast expanse of the desert.
Davis was a lean man in his fifties. He retrieved a straw cowboy hat and climbed from his pickup. He wore his usual attire of faded jeans and a blue denim shirt. On his chest was a badge. If one got close enough, he could see that Davis was the sheriff of Loving County. Strapped to his side was a Colt 45 that hadn’t been out of its holster except for cleaning in more than twenty years. With only eighty-two permanent residents, there wasn’t much need for a gun. Still if you were a sheriff in West Texas, you had to have one visible to residents and strangers alike. As he walked into the courthouse, Davis took a toothpick from his shirt pocket and put into his mouth. He started chewing on toothpicks when he quit smoking years before, and now a toothpick was as much a part of him as his badge and gun.
Davis stopped by the clerk’s office. Standing in the doorway, he said, “Ruth Ann, this is the first time I’ve seen your office empty in a while. No land men checking through the deed records?”
Ruth Ann looked up from her desk and smiled. “The day’s young. You know what that fracking has done in the Permian Basin. We’re on the far west side of it, but those oil guys are checking mineral rights and trying to dig up information on some of those old wells that haven’t produced in thirty years. Course it may be that the drop in oil prices is having an impact.”
“You know, I even had to give one of those guys a speeding ticket the other day. First time I’ve done that in a couple of years. Mostly, I just let people ignore the speed signs. Only a damn fool would drive seventy on a vacant, stretch of paved road around here. This guy was pushing a hundred; so, I figured I better rein him in a little. Wasn’t sure my old pickup could still go that fast. I’m going back to my office and then head over to the café for lunch. You know where I am just in case someone tries to run off with one of your land books.” He laughed at his joke and shifted the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other.
The sheriff walked down the white marble corridor, his steps echoing in the empty hallway. The marble had been installed to upgrade the interior of the old courthouse during the last oil boom in the seventies. His office was small, just big enough for a desk, a bookcase and two guest chairs. The windows had a view to the south and east, if sand and sagebrush and a rolling hill or two constituted a view. The desk was usually empty except for a phone and an old computer that could be used to very slowly dial up the internet. On a middle shelf of the bookcase was an old printer, connected with a cord that snaked down the bookcase, across the floor to the desk and climbed to the computer. Sometimes it worked; sometimes not. Beside it was a fa
x machine that Davis used a little more often. In fact, he dug into his own pocket to have it replaced recently.
Davis sat at his desk, propped his feet up and stared out the window, wondering how he would spend the afternoon after he had lunch and went home for his afternoon siesta. He was about to doze off in his chair when the phone rang.
“Sheriff Davis, here.”
“Sheriff, this is Lance White over in Fort Worth. You keeping busy out there in West Texas?”
“Lance, nice to hear from you. I think we last talked at that meeting in San Antonio four or five years back. Yeah, things are picking up out here. Got a little oil boom underway. More cars and trucks than we’ve seen in years. Most of them stay in the motels in Pecos or commute from Odessa. They’ve already poked a few holes in the ground over on the east side of the county. I keep hoping that the oil companies will decide they need to put up a cell tower so I can get service here. I’ve got a cell phone but it’s only good when I get over toward Pecos. What can I do for you?”
“You familiar with an outfit called The Alamo Defenders?”
“Sure. I’ve known old man Van Zandt since he bought that land thirty years ago. He doesn’t get off his property very often, but I run across him in Pecos occasionally. Most of the boys that live there have gotten jobs in the oil patch.”
“You ever have any problem with them?”
“Nope, can’t say as I have. I hear that they’re preparing for the government to attack them. I suspect that they have some illegal weapons stashed somewhere, but they stick to themselves and don’t bother anyone; so, I prefer just to leave them be. Why are you asking?”
“I’m sure you saw that the governor was seriously wounded and a billionaire named Edward Hale was killed here in Fort Worth a few weeks ago.”
“Yep, saw it on television. Governor’s okay, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s making a full recovery. Here’s why I’m calling. We’ve tracked down the killer. Name’s Miriam Van Zandt. You know her?”
Davis took his feet off his desk and sat upright. “Sure. She’s the old man’s daughter. Works at a convenience store in Pecos.” He paused. “I don’t recollect seeing her in there lately.”
“Sheriff, we’ve got a warrant for her arrest. You think you can serve it?”
Davis stood and turned to gaze out the window. “Shit, Lance, you’re asking for damn big favor.”
“Look, I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to do. I also don’t want to put you in danger. Can you get in the compound?”
Davis nodded his head. “I suppose I probably can. I can talk to the old man. If she won’t surrender voluntarily, there’s not much I can do.”
“That’s all we’re asking. If she won’t go peacefully, we did what we could. Next step will be that we’ll have to take her by force.”
“Whoee. You’re not saying the half of it. They’ll be armed to the teeth.”
“So, what do you say?”
Davis took the now-shredded toothpick from his mouth and replaced it with one from his pocket. “I’ll give it a try. Fax me the warrant. And, one more thing. If I fail, I’m the sheriff here and I decide who can try to take her. I won’t have any of the feds, no FBI, no DEA. We ain’t having another Waco or Ruby Ridge around here. I know the DPS has a damn fine SWAT team, made up of Texas men, most of whom served in the military. I’ll let only them into my county. Understood?”
“You got it, Sheriff. Look for the fax in the next few minutes.”
Davis turned on the fax machine and walked across the street to the café for lunch. He greeted the few people who sat at the plastic covered tables, calling each of them by name. After all, he was a politician and was up for election the next year. He placed his hat on a scarred wooden rack and took a seat at the same table where he lunched every day. Mable, the owner, cook and waitress, brought him black coffee. He sipped it quietly until she returned with the day’s special, meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans. While he ate, he thought about Miriam Van Zandt, her father and the men in the compound. He definitely would not cause a ruckus. He would just call Richard and ask him to get the front gate open so he could discuss a matter. He knew in his gut that he would fail, but he would give it his best shot, and it might as well be this afternoon. No use in stalling.
When he returned to his office, the fax was waiting. He sat at the desk and studied it. Miriam was charged with murder, attempted murder and assault with a deadly weapon. He visualized the attractive, petite young woman who always had a smile for him in the convenience store and couldn’t imagine her doing something like that. Still, the warrant was in his hand. He picked up the phone and called his wife.
“Hon, I’m going out to Van Zandt’s compound to serve a warrant. Just wanted to let you know. If I’m not home by dark, call the DPS.”
“You going to be okay?”
He chewed on his toothpick a few moments. “Should be.”
He clicked off the phone and found Van Zandt’s phone number in a listing in his desk drawer of everyone who lived in the county. He slowly punched in the numbers and the phone rang. After seven rings he was about to disconnect when a voice said, “Yeah.”
“Colonel, this is Sheriff Davis.”
“What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“That’s what you’re doing. Go ahead.”
“No, Richard. That’s not what I mean. I need to drop by for a visit. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Can you get someone to unlock the front gate?”
Silence.
“I suppose. You understand I don’t like cops on my property. You best make it brief when you get here.”
The phone went dead.
Davis got in his pickup and drove slowly west on 302. He slowed to let a tumbleweed blow across the highway. He saw the gate in the distance. A red Chevy pickup was parked beside it. When he drove closer, he saw a young man with a long black beard leaning up against it. He was holding a shotgun, but the gate was open. He stopped beside the pickup and lowered his window.
“Okay for me to go on in?”
“That’s what the Colonel said. Just follow the road.”
Davis did as he was told. He noted the embankment and the entrenchment behind it that appeared to surround the property. He passed the Alamo façade on his right. At the shooting range two other men turned when he approached, rifles at the ready. The last time he visited the compound must have been twenty years ago. Back then, the Alamo and shooting range didn’t exist. And he didn’t remember the shed beside the range. The encampment then consisted of three or four trailers. Now he estimated there were around twenty. The building in the middle also had been added.
He saw two men, leaning against posts on either side of the building’s front porch. Each had a rifle slung over his shoulder. Van Zandt was sitting in a rocker in the middle, shotgun across his lap. As he parked, he made a decision. Having a weapon would not change the outcome. He pulled his revolver from the holster and laid it on the passenger seat.
When he exited his truck, he said, “I’m not armed.”
Van Zandt motioned him to the porch with an almost imperceptible movement of his head and pointed to the rocker beside him. Davis sat on the edge of the rocker.
“State your business,” the colonel said.
Davis eyed the old man and the two guards. “I’m here to serve this on Miriam.” He handed the warrant to Van Zandt.
Van Zandt took it and slowly read to the end. Then he ripped it into small pieces. “She ain’t here.”
“I’ve been told otherwise.”
Van Zandt rose to face Davis. “Then whatever you were told is wrong. So’s them charges on that paper. You did what you came for. Now you need to get out.”
Without another word Davis walked back to his pickup and retreated the way he came. After he was off the property, the man at the front closed and locked the gate.
Van Zandt watched him go, then spoke. “Boys, when the rest g
et back from work this evening we need to have a meeting. Looks like trouble’s coming.”
31
Jack heard from Lance that evening that the attempt to serve Miriam Van Zandt had failed. He told Lance that he wanted to confer with Joe Shannon since it was his warrant. He clicked off the phone and found Colby in the media room, watching NCIS.
“That’s who we need. Get Gibbs and his team to Texas. They could handle this in an hour.”
Colby paused the television. “I heard you talking to Lance. The high sheriff of Loving County failed in his effort to serve the warrant.”
“Not only that, the place was crawling with armed men. Colonel Van Zandt ripped the warrant into little pieces and told him he better get his ass off their property.”
Colby rose from her chair and walked to the bar. “Sounds like we both could use a drink.” She poured two 10th Mountain bourbons over rocks and added a splash of water, then handed one to Jack who nodded his thanks before sipping it.
“I need to call Joe.” He pulled the cell from his pocket and punched in the D.A.’s number.
“You got any good news?” Joe immediately asked.
Jack recounted the events as described by Lance. “What do you want to do now?”
Joe’s voice was hard. “We don’t have any choice. We’re going to have to assault the damn compound and take her by force. That’s my warrant and she’ll damn sure obey it one way or the other.”
Several men and two women, dressed casually but all with sidearms, filled the room where Colonel Burnside, Jack and Walt had watched Fox fly the drone just a few days before. They sat in the chairs and lined the walls. Jack introduced himself to the SWAT team members while they awaited Colonel Burnside. Jack counted twenty-two. Walt had met all of them at one time or the other. They seemed remarkably relaxed, talking about the Texans and Cowboys and their kids in school. When Walt asked Jack a casual question about J.D., a group surrounded him to get his thoughts about TCU making the playoffs. An outside observer would never have concluded that they were about to launch a military mission where lives would be at stake.
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