by Carolina Mac
The big surprise was Jesse sitting at the table with the rest of the crew. “Hey, Jesse,” said Blaine with a big grin, “didn’t know you were coming into the city today, but I’m glad you’re here. We’ve got a lot to do.”
“Travis updated me on the Bromwell case, and I’m not happy that Mrs. Bromwell has been gone so long.” Jesse tapped the table. “It’s too long. I don’t think we’ll find her alive.”
“We’re waiting on DNA results on the blood at the limo guy’s duplex,” said Travis. “The blood type matches Barb Bromwell’s according to the lab. They requested hers from her doctor.”
“But that doesn’t mean she was ever in that house,” said Jesse. “Blood type could be anybody.”
“Whoever it turns out to be,” said Travis, “is dead. If it isn’t Mrs. Bromwell, then we have another body somewhere.”
“Jesus,” said Blaine. “We don’t need another murder.” To Lily: “Lil, look into the limo service, see who owns it. As soon as you have something on the owner, Travis and Fletch follow up in Dallas.” To Hammer: “See the junkers in the carriage house. They have work for you.” To Jesse: “You and I will report to the Chief and then take a run down to the lab to see if they came up with anything else in Reg’s house we can use.”
Everybody stood up to start their day and Travis’ phone rang. “Yes, I do remember you, Mrs. Anderson. Uh huh. Another car across the street. Sure, let me write it down.”
Lily handed him a pen and pushed her yellow pad towards him.
Travis wrote the number down and ended the call. “The lady who lives straight across from Barb Bromwell said a car parked in her driveway yesterday and a man knocked on her door. This is the tag.”
“Could have been a salesman or somebody,” said Lily.
“Run the tag, would you Lil? Trav and Fletch can check it out while they’re in Dallas. Right after the limo owner.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
JESSE AND BLAINE drove separate vehicles to DPS. Both had things to do after the visit to the Chief’s office. Cat need to see Blaine for lunch, and Jesse had another appointment with his naturopathic doctor.
Blaine set a Starbuck’s tray on the Chief’s desk and handed out the containers while Chief Calhoun shook hands with Jesse.
“Nice to see you, Jesse. Feeling better?”
“I am, Chief. I’m able to do more every day.”
“This Bromwell thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” said the Chief. “Don’t see how we’re gonna find the bastards that did it. Now the woman is gone—has to be the same people—and I’m not holding out much hope for her.”
“I said the same thing,” said Jesse. “Been too long.”
“Exactly.” The Chief pulled the tab on his coffee and took a sip.
Blaine placed a folder in front of the Chief. “I sent this by e-mail, but I printed a copy in case you wanted to go over it while we were here. Basically, it says, Reg Bromwell’s murder is unsolvable. In my opinion, a mob hit. Hired killers. No trace left behind.”
“And the brother in Vegas?” asked the Chief. “I don’t have details from LVPD on that one yet. Same thing?”
Blaine nodded. “Same. The money was the motive, but its still a mystery where or who the money came from.”
“Wonder if they’ll try for the seven fifty in the evidence locker?” asked the Chief.
“I hope you’re joking,” said Blaine. “That would be a bold move, wouldn’t it?”
“I was joking when I said it, but it would cause a fuckin shitstorm if they tried it.”
“They better not try,” said Jesse.
“Best scenario,” said the Chief, “you solve Mrs. Bromwell’s kidnapping and possible murder, and you solve all three.”
Hampton Inn. Yuma. Arizona.
ANNIE AND FARRELL enjoyed breakfast together at the Hampton Inn. They’d slept late after their long drive south from Vegas the night before and had the day to put in while they waited for the meeting to take place.
After breakfast, they worked on the guns, gave them a good cleaning, tightened the scopes and loaded them with the .223’s Annie was especially was fond of. The hotel suite smelled strongly of Hoppes gun oil when they were finished.
Annie zipped the rifles into their cases and said, “Let’s check out the truck stop, baby boy.”
Farrell nodded. “I’m for that.”
On the drive across town Farrell asked if she was sad about Dougie.
“I’m a little sad, but he’s a gun runner, a drug dealer who sells to kids or anybody else with a dollar, a killer for sure and he’s my assignment. That means, somebody knows things about Dougie—a lot more than we know—and he is on the wanted list. A list of people that pose a threat to our country in some way.”
“I wonder what the man knows about the Dog that we don’t know?” asked Farrell.
Annie shrugged as they turned into the truck stop parking area. “Above my pay grade.”
The Capitol Building. Austin.
CAT WAITED impatiently in her office for Blaine to arrive. She’d had a busy morning, arguing with a couple of bull-headed legislators about the wording of a bill all three were working on for the next session. She hadn’t calmed down one iota, convinced she was right and they were wrong.
Men were so goddam frustrating.
She stepped out of her office and asked Mrs. Warburton about the lunch order. “Any sign of the food, Penny?”
“Not yet, Governor. Let me phone down and give them a push.”
“Thanks. Blaine’s always so short of time, I don’t want him waiting around to eat.”
She went back inside, and Blaine was on her cell. “I’m late, but I’m on my way.”
“Don’t rush, you’re fine.”
He has too much to do for a kid.
Five minutes later and a little out of breath, he was there, his long black hair hanging in his face. He tossed his leather jacket on a chair and sat down across from her wearing a short-sleeved Harley t-shirt, a shoulder harness with a big gun sticking out of it and ripped jeans.
He’s comfortable with me now. This is the first time he’s taken his jacket off.
She sucked in a breath at the sight of his arms. Every inch of them inked from the wrist up as high as she could see.
“This is the first time I’ve seen your arms, sweetie.” She leaned closer for a better look. “That’s intricate artwork, and the colors are beautiful.”
“Thanks.”
Mrs. Warburton knocked once, then opened the door for the waiter from the Grille downstairs. “Sorry we’re a bit late, Governor Campbell. The kitchen got behind.”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
Blaine stood up, reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumpled bill. He tipped the young man then looked under the lids. “I’m freakin starving.”
Cat giggled. “I thought you might be.”
After they ate, Blaine filled her in on Bromwell’s brother in Vegas. He spared her the details of Harry’s murder and reported the facts of the case as he knew them. He stopped, poured a coffee and then sat down with a little sigh.
“I know you well enough to sense you’re going to tell me something horrible, Blaine. What could be worse than Reg’s brother being murdered? I can’t imagine.” She inhaled a breath and readied herself. “Go ahead and tell me.”
“While I was in Vegas, I had men on Mrs. Bromwell in Dallas—just in case.”
“In case of what?”
“The money. I thought the thugs might pressure her to give back the money.”
“Oh, my, God.” Cat put a hand over her mouth. “And… did they?”
Blaine was on his feet and pacing, chains clanking on the motorcycle boots. “She’s gone, Cat. She’s fuckin gone. Snatched from her house in Dallas.”
Cat let out a little squeal. “Are people looking for her?”
“Fuck, yeah. Travis tracked the limo that picked her up to a dumpy duplex in another part of town, a
nd the whole front room of the house was saturated in blood.”
Cat clamped hand over her mouth and felt her stomach churning. “She was picked up in a limo?”
“Weird, ain’t it?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve got all my men in Dallas searching for her, and I’m heading up there now.”
“What about Misty? Could she find her?”
Blaine grabbed Cat and gave her a hug. “Jesus in a handcart, Cat, I was so fuckin worked up, Misty never crossed my mind.” He grabbed his jacket and ran out of the office.
Lucky’s Truck Stop. Yuma. Arizona.
FARRELL parked in front of the restaurant at Lucky’s and he and Annie got out of the truck for a look around. “Not much height anywhere, Annie.” He pointed. “A couple of big trees over there by the picnic tables.”
“Let’s check the sightlines from there.” Annie sauntered over, stood at the base of the tree and fixed her gaze on the door of the restaurant. “What if they don’t go inside. They meet in a car in the parking lot or something?”
“That could happen,” said Farrell, “Caranza won’t be strutting around in the open too much, you can count on that.”
“Dougie will have an entourage. A bunch of bikes will give away the meeting place quicker than anything else.”
“The bikers will come down early,” said Farrell. “They’ll check the whole place beforehand, just like the cartel assholes will.”
“Maybe we won’t wait for the meet,” said Annie. “We could be done before the meeting ever gets off the ground.”
“You need cover, and there ain’t much of it here,” said Farrell. “Darkness will give you an advantage too.”
“What’s across the road?” Annie turned around, shaded her eyes from the ever-present Yuma sun, and visually searched. On the other side of the service road was a two-storey office building with an add-on. A makeshift one-storey manufacturing plant attached at the back. Annie pointed. “Let’s cross over and see if there’s a maintenance ladder on the side or the back of the building.”
Big-D Limo. Dallas.
TRAVIS AND FLETCHER chased down the owner of the limo operation and arranged to meet him at the rental place they’d already been to. The owner said he had a manager in place and he rarely stopped by the rental location unless there was a problem.
The boys drove up to Dallas and met him at ten thirty. Mr. Ron Izzard was a giant of a man, six feet seven with broad shoulders and a slim waist. He might have shot some hoops thirty years earlier. His face was tanned but badly wrinkled, his left hand yellowed from nicotine. A heavy smoker.
“Come into the manager’s office,” said Izzard, “we can talk in there.”
Fletch sat in one of the guest chairs while Travis stood behind him and leaned on the back of the chair. “Do you know Swayze Palmer?”
“Never heard of him,” said Izzard.
Travis thought Izzard answered a little too quickly and pressed him. “You’re sure you never heard of him?”
Izzard nodded his head. “Yep, I’m sure.”
“You don’t want to be an accessory to kidnapping and murder, do you?”
“Sure don’t.”
“I’d like you to come with me to Dallas police headquarters and take a lie detector test, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind. I have plans for today.” Izzard stood up. “If that’s all you’ve got, I have work to do.”
“Thanks for your time, Mr. Izzard,” Travis said politely.
BACK in the truck, Fletcher asked Travis, “Do you think he was lying?”
“I do, but with no plausible reason and not a speck of evidence saying he’s involved, I can’t force him to take a lie detector test.” His cell rang, and it was Blacky. “On my way to Misty’s place to pick her up. Meet me at Mrs. Bromwell’s house in two hours.”
“We’ll be there, boss.”
“What’s up?” asked Fletch. He lowered his window and lit up a smoke.
“Boss is coming and bringing Miss Misty.”
“Why’s he bringing his girlfriend?”
“She’s a psychic or one of those clairvoyants. She can find stuff when nobody else can.”
“Can I watch her?”
Travis shrugged. “Sure, I guess. First we have to check out this lead that Pauline Anderson gave us.”
“That the old lady who writes down tag numbers?”
“That’s her,” said Travis with a smile, “Lil ran it through DMV and this tag belongs to a guy named, Jacob Simms. He’s a lawyer.”
Capitol Parking Lot. Austin.
BLAINE CALLED Misty from his parking spot at the Capitol and asked if she would be willing to go to Dallas with him.
“Of course, I’ll try to help you, sweetheart. And it will be a chance for us to get caught up. I missed you while you were away.”
“I missed you too, Mist. I’m spoiled with you sleeping at my place most of the time. I hate waking up when you’re not beside me.”
“Are we staying overnight in Dallas?”
“I don’t think so, but it wouldn’t hurt to pack a small bag in case something comes up and we do decide to stay.”
“I’m getting ready now.”
“Fifteen minutes.”
Simms and Simms Attorney’s at Law. Downtown Dallas.
TRAVIS AND FLETCHER arrived at Jacob Simms law office and asked for him at reception.
“Have a seat, Mr. Simms will be with y’all in a moment,” said the dark-haired girl with a turquoise streak across her bangs.
It was more than a moment, but less than five minutes and they were shown into Mr. Simms’s office on the first floor of the building.
“Gentlemen, what can I do for the Texas Rangers?”
Simms was a medium height man, with a little gray creeping in at the temples. Well dressed and filling the whole office with the scent of his expensive cologne.
“Following up on a tip we got, sir. You were seen at Mrs. Bromwell’s residence and we have to ask why you were there?”
Simms frowned. “Am I being followed?”
“No sir, but we are watching Mrs. Bromwell’s house considering the situation she’s in.”
“Haven’t you found her yet?”
“No sir. Would you have any insight into who might have taken her?”
“As I told Mr. Blackmore-Powell, I don’t believe the money was stolen in the first place, and certainly not by Reg Bromwell, so how can I possibly believe mysterious people are out there trying to steal it back? The whole scenario makes no sense to me at all.”
“Believe it or don’t believe it,” said Travis, “the fact is Mrs. Bromwell is missing and we can’t find her.”
“I went to her residence to see if she had returned,” said Simms. “Thinking logically, I imagined she was visiting someone—a friend or relative—and would return in her own good time. This whole stolen money and murder scenario seems far removed from reality. Nothing a down-to-earth person like Barb Bromwell would be mixed up in.”
“I don’t think she’s mixed up in it voluntarily,” said Travis. “She’s caught in the middle of something she had no part of. I think the money she received from you as a settlement from her husband was stolen money. The people Reg Bromwell stole it from want it back.”
Simms smiled. “I suppose if that were true, they’d want my commission back too?”
Travis shrugged. “You can joke about it, sir, but I’d be careful. They seem to be leaving no stone unturned—and no witnesses.”
Simms laughed. “Who are these unnamed perpetrators?”
“If we knew, they’d already be under arrest.”
Barb Bromwell’s Residence. North Dallas.
BLAINE zoomed up I-35 with Misty in the shotgun seat. She’d been quiet of late. He’d been working too much and neglecting her badly. “When I was in Vegas I intended to buy you something nice, but I got busy and completely forgot and now I feel like an asshole. How would you like to go to Vegas for a coupl
e of days, relax at a spa, do some shopping and eat at some fantastic restaurants?”
“Ooh, that sounds exciting. I’m not much of a gambler, but I like to shop and eat. And I’d love some private time with just the two of us.”
“We’ll do it in a week or so. As soon as I get a couple things cleared up.”
Driving north through Dallas was a slow grind at the dinner hour. After battling an hour of heavy traffic, they arrived at Barb Bromwell’s house about seven. Travis and Fletch were already parked in the driveway.
Blaine parked behind Travis and shut off the engine. “As soon as we’re done, we’ll get dinner, sweetheart.”
Misty smiled. “I’m not hungry.”
Travis opened the front door and held it open for Misty. She stopped short in the foyer and inhaled a couple of deep breaths.
“Everything okay?” asked Blaine.
Misty shook her curls. “Not okay.”
“Right,” said Blaine. “Why don’t you sit in there,” he pointed to the sitting room to the right of the entranceway. I’ll go upstairs and get a couple of Mrs. Bromwell’s personal things and bring them down.”
“I might do better in her bedroom,” said Misty. “Her own personal space.”
“Sure,” said Blaine. “Wherever is best for you. Let’s go upstairs.” He took Misty by the hand and the boys followed. Blaine paused at the bedroom door and let Misty go in first. “She likes to feel the energy,” he said over his shoulder to the other two.
Fletcher rolled his eyes as they watched Misty glance around the room taking it all in. Next, she turned and examined all the items on Barb Bromwell’s dresser.
Misty picked up a watch, walked over to a chair by the window and sat down. Travis and Fletcher moved into the room and stood silently near the door, so they wouldn’t disturb her. Blaine crossed the room and sat in a chair next to her.
Holding the watch in both hands, Misty closed her eyes and sat perfectly still. Time passed, and nothing happened. She opened her eyes and handed the watch to Blaine. “Nothing from the watch.”
“Okay, let’s try something else.” Blaine put the watch back on the dresser, opened the door to the walk-in closet and selected a silk scarf from a rack of scarves. “Want to try this?”
