Keller had written down the street address of the Church of Elohim. The town was small, even tinier than Frey, with only the one main street. The address they eventually located was a storefront on a side street, without signs or any evidence of occupancy. The front plate glass was covered with paper on the inside so they couldn’t see in. They got out of the car and stood looking at the building. Keller walked over and tried the door. The place was locked.
“Maybe they closed down,” he said.
Oscar shook his head. “The website is being maintained. Last posting was three days ago.”
“So this address is a front.” He was walking back to the car as a brown and white Sheriff’s patrol car pulled in behind them. He tensed as the officer inside put on his flashers and activated the blue light bar on top. “Let me do the talking,” Keller said.
“Not a problem,” Oscar said.
The officer who slowly unfolded himself out of the front seat was a tall and lanky, light-skinned African-American. He had the rawboned look and big hands of a farm boy, and the slow amble to match, but his eyes were shrewd and appraising as he looked them over. “Mornin’, fellas,” he drawled. The nameplate over the pocket of his short-sleeved khaki shirt read CASTLE.
“Morning,” Keller said.
“You gentlemen new in town?”
“Here on business,” Keller said. “Mind if I take my card out of my back pocket?” The deputy nodded. His eyes never stopped moving between Keller and Oscar, who sat in the car.
Keller handed over the card. Castle took it and studied it. “Bail Bonds,” he said. “Y’all are a ways from home.”
“So’s the guy we’re looking for,” Keller said. “My boss here,” he nodded at Oscar, “has some serious cash on the line.”
“Your…” he looked at Oscar sitting in the car, who smiled. Castle looked back at the card. He walked around to the passenger side and motioned for Oscar to roll down the window. Oscar complied. “Oscar Sanchez?” the deputy said. “The business is yours?”
“Mine and my wife’s.” Oscar’s smile grew wider. “So I guess I am only the boss when she’s not around.”
That brought a ghost of a smile to the deputy’s lips, but it quickly vanished. He slid the card into the pocket of his uniform shirt, straightened up, and looked at Keller. “License and registration, please.” Keller slid into the car and pulled the bill of sale out of the glove box. “We just bought the car,” he said, handing it to Castle along with his driver’s license.
Castle’s brow furrowed. “In Texas?”
“I’m telling you,” Keller said, “this guy’s led us all over the damn place.”
“What’s his name?” Castle said.
“Hager,” Oscar answered. “Jefferson Hager.”
“We’d heard he might have joined up with this Church of Elohim,” Keller said, watching the deputy’s face closely. “This was the address we had for it.”
Castle shook his head. “They moved out of town,” he said. “And the land where they moved is posted. No trespassing.”
“Okay,” Keller said. “I understand.” He tried another tack. “Maybe you’ve seen Hager around. He sometimes uses the name Rance Colton.”
There was still no reaction. “Never heard of him. Wait here.” Castle took the license and registration back to his car.
“Jack,” Oscar said, “if he looks in the trunk…”
“We’re just working stiffs trying to do our job,” Keller said, “and exercising our Second Amendment right to bear arms.”
“Would that include the rocket launcher?” Oscar said.
“It’s South Carolina,” Keller said. “You never know. They probably hunt deer with the damn things down here.”
The deputy came back with his slow amble, but his eyes no longer held that watchful wariness. “License checks out,” he said, handing the license and bill of sale back to Keller.
“Any idea where we might find our bail jumper?” Keller asked.
Castle shook his head. “Like I said. Never heard of him. But I will tell you this.” He looked directly at Keller. “Stay away from that church’s property. Like I said, it’s posted, and they don’t like trespassers. I or one of the other deputies gets called out there, they will press charges. Understood?”
Keller nodded. “Understood.”
“You fellas have a nice day, now,” Castle said.
As he turned away, Keller caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the deputy’s bicep, peeking out from under his short-sleeved uniform shirt. It showed a shield with a black silhouette of a horse’s head in the upper left corner. “Hey,” he said. The deputy stopped and turned back. The wariness was back in his eyes. “First Cav?”
Castle nodded. “Yeah.”
“Me, too,” Keller said. “Desert Storm.”
“That so?” Castle said. “Bosnia for me, then the second go-round in the Gulf.”
“Fallujah?”
Castle nodded.
“Bad as it looked?”
“Worse.”
“Sorry,” Keller said.
Castle shrugged. “Embrace the suck,” he quoted.
“Heard that,” Keller replied.
“Have a good day,” Castle said, a little more pleasantly this time.
“You, too.” Keller got back in the car as Castle climbed back into his. He waited for the deputy to start his car before he turned the key.
“That was close,” Oscar said. “Have we made a friend?”
“Maybe,” Keller said, “or maybe he’s calling those Elohim assholes right now.”
“Unlikely,” Oscar said. “Given he’s a black man.”
“Stranger shit has happened.”
“So what do we do?” Oscar said.
“We move forward,” Keller said. “We need to check out the farm.”
“That officer said…”
“That they don’t like visitors. That they’re really insistent on keeping people away. Wouldn’t you do that if you were holding people as slaves?”
Oscar nodded. “Do you think that is where they are?”
“I think it’s the next place we look,” Keller said. He put the car in gear and pulled away. “But I want to find a library first.”
“A library? Why?”
“If we’re going to find a way in,” Keller said. “We need a map. And where’s the best place to find a map?”
“The library?”
“Maybe. But also, online. But we’ll need a printer.”
Oscar nodded. They were pulling out onto the main street. “There.” Oscar pointed to a small, older building, set back from the street and surrounded by trees. A sign out front read HEARKEN PUBLIC LIBRARY.
“Great,” Keller said. He pulled into a parking space in front.
RAY CASTLE steered his patrol cruiser through the streets of Hearken, eyes moving over the familiar homes and storefronts of the town where he’d grown up. All quiet today. He smiled to himself. Quiet was good. He’d had enough excitement over in the Sandbox to last a lifetime. He’d come back with a Silver Star, a Purple Heart, and a deep desire never to leave his hometown again. The first two had given him enough local fame to ease his way into a job in the Sheriff’s department despite the prejudice that still existed. It never hurt a politician’s chances to be seen giving a break to a serviceman. Sheriff Cosgrove had even invited Castle to a few of his fundraisers and campaign stops, especially those at AME Churches and Black Community Centers. He knew he was being used as a prop, but he tried hard to let it go. For all the bullshit, this place was home. His whole family was here.
The radio crackled with static. “All units, base.” He recognized the voice of Sheriff Cosgrove. His brow furrowed. That was odd. He keyed his mic. “One-seven,” he responded. He heard the four other units on patrol in various sections of the county call in.
“All units,” Sheriff Cosgrove said over the channel. “Be on the lookout for any unfamiliar or strange subjects in or around Hearken. Particularly subjects show
ing interest in the Church of Elohim or its properties.”
“What the…” Castle whispered to himself. He keyed the mic again. “Sir, this is one-seven. I just talked to a couple of subjects outside the church’s old headquarters. The place they had before they moved out to the farm.”
There was a brief silence. “One-seven, meet me back at the substation.”
“Ten-four,” Castle said. He wondered if he’d screwed up by letting the two men go. Still, there’d really been nothing to hold them for. He began to sweat, even with the air-conditioning turned up high.
Cosgrove was standing by his personal vehicle, a white Cadillac Escalade, out in front of the small sheriff’s substation on Main Street. He still had the broad shoulders and massive build of the star middle linebacker he’d been at the University of South Carolina, even though his brush cut shock of hair had gone gray and his face was lined from years in the sun on his family farm. The Cosgroves had done well for themselves for generations in Hearken, which is how Castle figured the Sheriff could afford vehicles like he drove on what the county paid him.
“What’s up, sir?” Castle said as he got out.
“Castle,” the Sheriff said, “tell me about this stop you just made.”
“Yes, sir,” Castle said, nearly snapping to attention by sheer reflex at the commanding tone. He gave the Sheriff the full story, trying to keep it as straightforward as possible, as if he was giving testimony in court.
“A white guy and a Hispanic?” Cosgrove said when he was done. Castle nodded. “Good,” Cosgrove said. “Find them. Pick them up.”
“Sir?”
A scowl appeared on Cosgrove’s face. “Do I stutter, son? I said pick their asses up. Bring them here.” He gestured at the substation. “And let me know. But use your cell phone. Stay off the air.”
“Yes, sir,” Castle said. This was making less and less sense. The tiny substation had been the old Hearken police department until the town had decided their money would be better spent if they let the county Sheriff pick up the slack. Officers joked that the place reminded them of the Sheriff’s office in the old Andy Griffith show: A couple of desks, an ancient computer, an even more ancient radio that was a relic of the 1970s, and a pair of old cells in the back. There wasn’t even a magistrate on duty. Which reminded him. “Sir?”
Cosgrove had been turning away toward his car. Now he turned back, the scowl deepening. “What now?” he snapped.
“What’s the charge?”
The Sheriff stared at him incredulously, as if the question were the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “Charge?”
“Yes, sir,” Castle said. “Why am I bringing them in?”
“Questioning,” the Sheriff said.
“Questioning,” Castle repeated.
“Yes. Questioning. They may be material witnesses in an ongoing Federal investigation. Any more dumb-ass inquiries, son?”
“No, sir,” Castle said. Other than what bug has got up your ass.
“Good,” Cosgrove said and turned away again. “Now do your damn job.”
“Yes, sir,” Castle said and got back in the patrol car. He took a moment to get his anger under control as he watched the Sheriff drive off. Then he started the engine.
“JACK,” OSCAR said. He was making no move to get out of the car.
“Yeah?” Keller said.
“When we find this place,” Oscar said, “what are we going to do?”
“We’re going to go in and get your boys,” Keller said.
Oscar shook his head. “I do not think that will work.”
Keller’s grip tightened on the wheel. “Why not?”
Oscar looked at him sadly. “You really haven’t thought this through, have you?”
Keller felt a brief stab of frustration. “What are you…”
Oscar nodded. “Think, Jack.” He gestured toward the trunk of the car. “We’ve seen what kinds of weapons these men have. And we know there will be more of them at this farm.” He shook his head. “I have known you for years now. I have worked with you. I know your first thought is to kick down doors and start grabbing people.”
It’s all I have. The thought came to Keller unbidden. Oscar saw his look and nodded again. “I know that is what you live for. What keeps you feeling alive. But I don’t think it will work this time. And it might get my sons killed.”
“So what do you suggest we do?”
“We look. We see what we can see. And then we do what we should have done a while ago. Alert the authorities.”
“Who?” Keller said. “Local cops?”
“No,” Oscar said. “I think the locals may be protecting these people. Certainly they do not seem to want to know what is going on out there. But the FBI, even the Immigration…” he shrugged. “We let enough people know that someone is practicing slavery, here in America, in the twenty-first century, someone will do something.” He sighed. “If nothing else, they will come once they know illegals are here.”
Keller tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. He didn’t entirely succeed. “Maybe it’s you who hasn’t thought this through, Oscar. Best-case scenario is, they believe you, and being the Feds, they hem and haw and take forever to put something together. Who knows what happens in the meantime? Worst case is, they don’t believe you, don’t do anything, and they figure out you’re not here legally, and they lock you up, then they deport you. Actually, in any scenario, they lock you up and send you back to Colombia. And your sons. If those crazy racist fucks don’t kill them first.”
Oscar nodded. “I know that. I have decided I’m going back anyway. With my sons.”
“You’ll…what?”
“I can’t keep living like this, Jack. Outside of the law. It’s making me crazy.” He looked at Keller. “I came here to be safe. So my sons could be safe.” He threw up his hands. “Look at this. Am I safe? Is my family safe? Since I came to America, I have been kidnapped and shot by drug dealers, I’ve had crazy men try to kill me, and now this. Mierda, I was safer in Colombia, teaching school, than I am in this place. Than I am with—” He stopped.
“Than you are with me,” Keller said.
“Jack, I didn’t mean—”
“No, no, you’re right,” Keller said. He thought back to another man’s words: You bring death, and hell follows with you.
“You are not responsible for what has happened to my boys,” Oscar said quietly. “Without you, I wouldn’t be this close to finding out what happened to them. I thank you for that. But we’re going to do this my way.”
Keller still felt the burn of his frustration. But Oscar was right. He knew that a head-on attack was probably suicide, for him and for Oscar. Still, something in him clamored for, as Oscar said, kicking down doors and grabbing people, even if it would get both of them killed. He took a deep breath.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll do it your way.”
“Good,” Oscar said. “Now let’s go see what we can see.”
SHE HADN’T gotten breakfast that morning. The only way she could even tell it was morning was by the sounds outside. That worried her. If they’d stopped feeding her, then whatever reason they had for keeping her alive might have gone away. She wished she knew what was going on. She wished she knew what time it was. And she really had to pee again.
When she heard the locks working again, Angela got up off the bed and stood behind the chair, grabbing it with both hands. If someone came through that door with a gun, she was going to pick it up and try to club him with it. The chair might be flimsy, it might not be much of a weapon, but she wasn’t going without a fight.
It was Esmeralda, and she wasn’t carrying a gun. She was dressed in black jeans and a white blouse with ruffles on the front. She wore dark glasses. Angela couldn’t see the usual guard behind her. She stood inside the opened door, not speaking.
“Hi,” Angela said. “I was wondering if you’d be back.” It was then she noticed the marks on Esmeralda’s wrists, ugly blue bruises that looked fr
esh.
Esmeralda saw her looking and her jaw tightened. She took off the dark glasses to show a blackened eye. “So, I guess you were right.”
“It doesn’t make me happy,” Angela said. “And no, I’m not going to say I told you so.”
The girl shook her head, her face a mask of fury. She wiped her glistening eyes with the back of her hand. “You still want to get out of here?”
“Yeah,” Angela said. “What about the guard?”
The girl gave her a savage smile. “Come see.”
The guard was stretched out full length in the hallway, snoring, with and an empty tray next to him. Next to the tray was an equally empty bottle of beer lying on its side.
“I put pills in his food…and in his beer. He’ll sleep for a while. I had to wait till Miguel and the others were gone.”
“Where did they go?”
Esmeralda shrugged. “Something to do with their big plan. Against the boss.”
“Miguel is making some sort of move against Mandujano?”
Esmeralda nodded. “He works for the fat man. Zavalo.”
“So Mandujano has nothing to do with bringing me here.”
“I don’t know why you were brought here. I hear about some things. Not others. Do you want to leave or not?”
“Oh, yeah,” Angela said. “But first things first.” She gestured at the guard. “You get his guns. I’ll be back.”
When Angela exited the restroom, Esmeralda was standing in the hallway looking impatient. She was holding the guard’s submachine gun in one hand, a 9MM Beretta in the other. “You know how to use either of those?” Angela asked.
“The pistol. A little.”
“Okay,” Angela said. She held out her hand for the machine gun. It was an H & K MP5.
“You know how to use this?” Esmeralda said.
“A little,” she said. She retracted and released the bolt with the charging handle. “Okay. Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“You know where the American consulate is?”
“I think so.”
Devils and Dust Page 16
