Perdido County- Dark Road

by Larry Darter

  “Okay, Owen,” Judy said. “I left paperwork on your desk that needs the sheriff’s signature.”

  “Where is Bud?” Wolfe said.

  “At home packing,” Judy said. “He’s leaving for Houston in the morning. Said to tell you he will see you when he gets back.”

  “I thought he had a meeting with the county commissioners this evening.”

  “He took care of that last week,” Judy said. “He only needed to get you sworn in this morning to make it official.”

  Wolfe shook his head. “Figures,” he said.

  Judy laughed. “Bud always was a confident old cuss.”

  Wolfe went back to his office. It looked like Bud had cleared it out. There was a rifle rack on the wall holding a Winchester carbine and a Remington 870 12-gauge pump shotgun. Wolfe sat down at the desk and started on the paperwork. After about fifteen minutes Alvarez walked in.

  “Nothing on Roberts in the files,” she said. “But I found his Facebook page. He was married. His wife’s name is Melissa, and it looks like they still live in Barajas.

  “Okay,” Wolfe said. “I guess I’ll drive over and do the death notification.”

  “Want me to go with you?” Alvarez said.

  “No, you better stay here to take calls until Riggs and Carpenter get back from the CM,” Wolfe said.

  “Okay.”

  Wolfe got up, grabbed his hat, and went out.

  ◆◆◆

  Barajas was a small town. Wolfe had no trouble finding the Roberts’ house. He climbed the steps to the porch and knocked on the door. A nice-looking woman in her mid-thirties with short sandy blonde hair and clear blue eyes answered the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Mrs. Roberts? I’m Sheriff—”

  Wolfe stopped talking, realizing he knew the woman.

  “Owen? Owen Wolfe?”

  “Hello, Mel.”

  “What in the world are you doing here? I thought you were in Dallas.”

  “I was. Uh... I’m here in an official capacity. Can I come in?”

  “Oh yes, please come in,” Roberts said. She stood aside. Wolfe went in and closed the door quietly behind him. He removed his hat and followed the woman into the living room.

  “Won’t you have a seat?”

  “I can’t stay long,” Wolfe said.

  “You’re with the sheriff’s department here now?”

  “Yes, long story,” Wolfe said trying to grin, but not really pulling it off. “You know where Glen is?”

  “San Saba. Working. He’s a tool pusher on a drilling rig. They are starting a well there. Why? Is he in some kind of trouble?”

  “How long has he been in San Saba?”

  “He left two days ago, early.”

  “You know if he had any business in Kimble?”

  “Kimble? No. Now please, Owen. Tell me what’s going on.”

  Wolfe twisted the brim of his hat nervously in his hands. He was quiet for several moments trying to think of the words to say.

  “Owen, you’re making me real nervous.”

  Wolfe grimaced. “Mel, I’m afraid I have some very bad news,” he said. He felt a knot growing in his stomach.

  “What is it, Owen? You’re frightening me. Has Glen been hurt?”

  “Your husband—uh—”

  “What is it, Owen?”

  “I’m truly sorry, Mel, he uh—”

  “Jesus, God, Owen. What is it? Tell me!”

  Wolfe struggled for words.

  “What’s happened!”

  “I’m sorry, Mel, Glen is gone.”

  Roberts stared at him wide-eyed, her mouth open.

  “No!” She screamed and burst into tears.

  ◆◆◆

  A few miles out of Barajas, Wolfe overtook a green Honda. He could see the driver and two passengers in the car. They looked like teenagers. A beer bottle flew out a window on the right side of the Honda and landed in the bar ditch. Wolfe switched on his overhead lights and pulled the car over. He approached on the passenger side. He saw a six pack of beer on the floorboard between the feet of the front seat passenger. Wolfe ordered the three teenage boys out of the car and then sat them down on the grassy embankment. He retrieved the six-pack from the car.

  “It's against the law in Texas to drink until you’re twenty-one,” Wolfe said. “It’s against the law to drink anytime when you’re in a vehicle riding down the highway.”

  The boys stared at him nervously. “You going to arrest us?” the driver said. “My dad will kill me.”

  Wolfe stared back at him for several moments. “I could do that,” Wolfe said. “Then I’d have to impound your car.”

  The driver swallowed hard.

  “Or you boys could pour the rest of the beer out, and I could let you off with a warning this one time,” Wolfe said.

  “Yes sir, we’ll pour it out,” the three boys said almost in unison.

  “Be a good idea,” Wolfe said. “Get to it.”

  The three boys got up. Each took a bottle from the carton. After twisting off the caps, they poured the amber liquid on the ground. Once they had poured out the five bottles, the driver said, “You want us to take these and throw them in the trash?”

  “No, then you would get arrested for having open containers in the car if you got pulled over again,” Wolfe said. “Just put the bottles back in the carton, and I’ll take care of disposing of them.”

  The boys did as he had told them. Wolfe wrote down the names of the boys in his memo book, along with the vehicle tag number.

  “Don’t let me catch you boys with beer again,” Wolfe said. “If I do, you will wish you were in hell with broken backs.”

  “Yes sir,” the three teens said.

  “Okay, get out of here,” Wolfe said. “Stay out of trouble.”

  The boys nodded sheepishly and climbed back in the Honda. The driver started the car, and they drove away. Wolfe smiled as he watched them drive away. It reminded of the time years ago back in high school when he and his best friend, Carlos Sosa, got stopped with beer by a Texas DPS trooper. The trooper had given them the same speech and made them pour it out. Wolfe was confident throwing a scare into the boys had been more effective than taking enforcement action. He picked up the empty bottles and went back to the Tahoe. He set the carton in the passenger side floorboard then got in and headed on toward Kimble.

  Three miles from Kimble, Wolfe topped a hill. There was a black car in his lane passing a semi-trailer truck coming at him head-on. The truck driver blasted the air horn. Wolfe jerked the steering wheel to the right to avoid colliding with the car. The Tahoe went into a skid, and he lost control. He went off the shoulder into the bar ditch. A front wheel caught, and the Tahoe went over onto its right side. It continued to slide forward for about another two hundred feet before the vehicle screeched to a stop. Wolfe was hanging sideways in the seat, suspended by the seat belts. The cab was full of dust and the white powder from the airbags. The impact had broken out the right front window. Wolfe tried to get the seat belt loose, but his weight was working against him. He hung helplessly in place.

  After a few minutes, a man’s face appeared at the driver’s side window above him.

  “You okay?” the man shouted.

  “Yeah,” Wolfe said. “But I’m stuck in the seatbelt.”

  “Can you get the window down?”

  “Hang on.”

  The engine had died, but the ignition key was still turned on. Wolfe reached over and found the window control on the door and lowered the glass.

  “I’ve got a pocket knife,” the man said. “I can cut the belt.”

  “Do it.”

  The man reached in and sawed on the shoulder belt until it parted. Wolfe now dangled at even a more precarious angle. The man worked on the lap belt. When it came loose, Wolfe fell down against the front passenger door. The crash had broken the empty beer bottles and a piece of glass sliced open Wolfe’s right hand. He stood up, put a foot on the center console, and hoisted h
imself up and out of the Tahoe. The man was already standing on the ground when Wolfe jumped down.

  “You sure you’re okay? Want me to call an ambulance?”

  “No, I just have a small cut on my hand,” Wolfe said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You have a cut over your left eye too,” the man said. “I’ll run back to the truck and get my first aid kit.”

  “Okay,” Wolfe said. “He sat down on the ground with his back against the Tahoe undercarriage.

  The man who had helped him was the driver of the semi-trailer truck. He told Wolfe the car had passed him on a hill, and after the wreck, it had kept going. Wolfe couldn’t find his phone, so he borrowed the truck driver’s phone to call Judy. He told her to send a wrecker to him. The truck driver patched up Wolfe’s hand and put a bandage on the cut over his eye. He waited with Wolfe until the wrecker arrived.

  Once the wrecker driver hooked on and pulled the Tahoe back over on its wheels, Wolfe got inside and found it started right up.

  “It’s driveable,” Wolfe said. “I can get back to Kimble. I’ll see about getting it fixed in a day or two.”

  The truck driver and wrecker driver left. Wolfe drove slowly back to the sheriff’s office.

  ◆◆◆

  When Wolfe walked into the sheriff’s department, Judy waved him over.

  “I looked for the missing person report on the Garcia girl,” Judy said. “I couldn’t find it. Also, Mrs. Roberts called and asked that you call her.”

  Wolfe nodded. “Is Carpenter and Riggs back from the CM?” he said.

  “Yes, they are in the back working on reports,” Judy said.

  Wolfe took the phone message and walked back to where the deputies shared an office. Carpenter looked up and smiled.

  “You find the ATV?” Wolfe said.

  “No, but we found this,” Carpenter said. He picked up and waved a brown Western hat.

  “Where?”

  “Out on the range close to the murder scene,” Carpenter said.

  “That looks like a two-hundred dollar hat,” Wolfe said.

  “More like three-hundred,” Carpenter said. “It’s handmade at a place in El Paso. The same place I get my dress hats.”

  “Any idea who it belongs to?”

  “Yep, I know exactly who it belongs to,” Carpenter said. “Charlie Godwin. The place in El Paso embroiders your name in the hatband. That’s how I know where it came from.”

  “He works on the CM. I spoke with him this morning.”

  “He sure does,” Carpenter said. “Can’t imagine what his expensive dress hat was doing blowing around out on the range.”

  “Be nice to know,” Wolfe said.

  “Want me to run out there and ask him?” Carpenter said.

  Wolfe shook his head. “You remember taking a missing person report on a juvenile named Zoe Garcia, Chase?”

  Carpenter’s eyes became wary, and his cheeks flushed red.

  “I talked to her mother about it a while back,” Carpenter said. “She didn’t want to make a report, and she never came back.”

  “Not what she told me,” Wolfe said. “Her mother said you took the report and told her you would enter her daughter’s name in the computer as a runaway.”

  “Owen, you know how that goes,” Carpenter said. “You spend time entering those reports on the Mexican kids, then they show up at home the next day. You have to write another report to take them out. It’s a complete waste of time.”

  “Listen, Chase,” Wolfe said. “By state law, we’re required to enter all reported missing juveniles in NCIC and TCIC. You ignored the law by being too lazy to take a report. If it ever happens again, I’ll fire your ass. Understand?”

  Alvarez and Riggs watched Wolfe and Carpenter intently.

  “Okay, Owen,” Carpenter said. “I understand.”

  “You still have the girl’s information?”

  “Yes, her mother gave me a photo,” Carpenter said. “I wrote down her information on the back. It’s here in my desk.”

  “Good, that will save you the embarrassment of going out to see her mother again to get the information,” Wolfe said. “Now, drop whatever you are doing, write the damn report, and get the girl entered in the system.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Wolfe turned to Riggs and Alvarez. “You two go back out to the CM and get Charlie Godwin and bring him in for questioning. While you’re out there see if he has access to a hunting rifle. If you have any trouble finding Godwin, the foreman’s name is Jay Adcock. Get him to help you.”

  “Okay, sheriff,” Alvarez and Riggs said together. They got up and left the office.

  “You didn’t have to embarrass me like that in front of them,” Carpenter said.

  “Do your damn job Chase,” Wolfe said. “Then I won’t have any reason to embarrass you.”

  Wolfe turned and walked out of the door and went to his office. Alvarez was waiting for him at the door.

  “Olivia, what are you still doing here?” Wolfe said.

  “What happened to your truck?” Alvarez said. “And your hand is hurt. What happened to your eye?”

  “I hurt it. You don’t miss a thing do you, Olivia?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Good observation skills,” Wolfe said. “You might have a future in law enforcement. Now get out to the CM like I told you.”

  Alvarez glared at him a moment and then turned and left.

  1.3

  It was almost five in the afternoon when Wolfe drove out to the highway on his way to the collision repair shop. On the highway, he saw a huge sign on the right of way. It read: “Elect Chase Carpenter Perdido County Sheriff.”

  “Sonofabitch,” Wolfe muttered under his breath. It seemed Carpenter wasn’t wasting any time getting his campaign started he thought.

  Wolfe pulled off the highway onto the gravel parking lot in front of Sosa Collision Repair. He got out and started for an open overhead door. A compact, muscular Latino with a big grin, wearing coveralls stepped outside.

  “I’ll be damned,” the man said. “Owen Wolfe, in the flesh.”

  “Hello Carlos,” Wolfe said.

  “You’re with the sheriff’s department now?” Carlos said. “What the hell, bro?”

  “Yeah, Bud Frazer had to take some time off with a medical issue,” Wolfe said. “I let him talk me into filling in as acting sheriff.”

  “You left Dallas?”

  “Yeah, I’m back in Kimble,” Wolfe said.

  “Let’s hear the story,” Carlos said.

  “Another time,” Wolfe said. “I’m here on official business.”

  “Okay.”

  “The first thing is I had a little accident, and I need the Tahoe fixed,” Wolfe said.

  “Let’s have a look.”

  The men walked over to the Tahoe.

  “Just this side?”

  “Yeah, I tipped it over on the highway. Oh, and I need a seat belt and the air bags replaced, along with the passenger side front window.”

  “Okay, I can get it done in two or three days. You leaving it now?”

  “No, I guess I’ll drop it off in the morning.”

  Carlos nodded. “What’s the other thing?”

  “I’ve been gone for a while,” Wolfe said. “Heard anything lately about prostitution in the county?”

  “Not my thing, Owen,” Carlos said with a grin. “Never had to pay for it.”

  “I’m looking for a fifteen-year-old Latina runaway,” Wolfe said. “Her brother heard a rumor. It involves her and an older Latina friend working in prostitution.”

  “Doesn’t mean it’s happening around here,” Carlos said. “Sheriff Frazer was pretty tough on prostitution. Two guys from El Paso tried to get a half dozen working girls established out at the truck stop. Frazer put a stop to it fast, quick, and in a hurry.”

  Wolfe nodded.

  “If the rumor is true, they might work across the border in Ojinaga,” Carlos said. “I know they have whorehouses and strip clubs th
ere. But with the drug cartel activity, it would be pretty risky for them to work down there.”

  “Okay, I guess you know most people in the county because of your business,” Wolfe said. “I thought you might have heard something through the grapevine.”

  “I know a lot of people,” Carlos said. “I’ll ask around and let you know if I hear anything.”

  “Appreciate it,” Wolfe said. “Let’s get together and have a beer sometime soon. We can catch up.”

  “Ready when you are, bro,” Carlos said.

  The men shook hands. Wolfe got back in the Tahoe and drove back to the sheriff’s office.

  ◆◆◆

  Alvarez and Riggs had Charlie Godwin in the interrogation room. Godwin’s foreman, Jay Adcock was there too. Wolfe introduced himself to Adcock.

  “Did you have Charlie checking the fences down south near the border this morning?” Wolfe asked Adcock.

  “No, Charlie was supposed to be over on the east range checking on how the calving was coming along,” Adcock said. “But your deputy told me you saw him down south this morning.”

  “We did,” Wolfe said. Wolfe turned to Godwin who was staring down at the table.

  “Charlie, you want to explain what your dress hat was doing near a murder scene?” Wolfe said. “You were wearing a hat when I talked to you this morning. So your dress hat had to get there another time. Like maybe last evening when someone shot a fellow named Glen Roberts on the CM.”

  Godwin looked up at Wolfe. “I didn’t kill that fella, sheriff,” he said. “Honest.”

  “He’s an idiot a lot of the time,” Adcock said. “But, I think he is telling the truth on that. He doesn’t have a gun I know of. They aren’t permitted in the bunkhouse. Haven’t been for years. Someone got shot over a card game one time. The boss has prohibited weapons in the bunkhouse ever since.”

  Wolfe nodded. “Okay, Charlie, then tell me about the hat.”

  “I was trying to get laid,” Charlie said. “The other boys dared me.”

  “Get laid?” Alvarez said. “You planning on having a date with a cow?”

  Godwin’s face turned beet red. “No, ma’am, it wasn’t like that at all. Some fella brings girls around in a big Jeep. They put up a tent. They move about from ranch to ranch and sometimes drilling sites to cater to ranch hands and roughnecks. It was on our south range for a couple of days.”