Splitting Aces

by Carolina Mac

  Blaine yelled back. “Find the rifle, Mom.”

  TRAVIS AND LILY parked in front of the sixth address on their list. “Kind of a waste of time doing this during working hours,” said Travis. “The dogs are home, but the single male owners have jobs.”

  “We may have to do it in the evening,” said Lily.

  “Do you work after office hours?” asked Travis.

  “I could, if Blaine wanted me to. I have to get my hours in if I want a license. This is a new career for me and I’m open to any possibilities. A breath of fresh air after being an office manager for ten years.”

  “You’re thinking of getting your PI license?”

  “Not thinking of it,” said Lily. “I’m working towards it.”

  Travis gave her a smile. “Nice. I didn’t know.”

  “Blaine suggested it and I agreed instantly.”

  “Let’s do this interview, then get lunch.”

  “I’m up for that.”

  Travis took a step closer to the door. “What’s his name?”

  Lily ran her finger down the list on the clipboard. “Theodore Braymore.”

  The door was opened by a young man in his late twenties. Tanned, good looking, with razor stubble around his strong jawline. He wasn’t as tall as Travis, maybe six feet even. He wore faded jeans and no shirt.

  “Whatever y’all are selling, I don’t need any.” He started to close the door and Travis caught it.

  “I’m Deputy Travis Bristol, and I’d like to have a word with you… Mr. Braymore.”

  The eyebrows went up. Dark eyes flashed but no other reaction. “Why?”

  “This is about the attack in Zilker Park the other night. We’re checking all dog owners in the area with Chesapeake Bay Retrievers.”

  “What kind of crap investigation is that?”

  “It’s the one we’re doing now, sir,” said Travis. “May we come in?”

  “You may not come in, and I refuse to answer any questions just because I own a certain breed of dog. You can go get yourselves a warrant.” He closed the door. The lock clicked.

  “Mark him down as uncooperative,” said Travis. “And set up a page for second interviews. Blacky will want to talk to that guy.”

  Lily smiled.

  BLAINE WALKED ACROSS the front lawn and knocked on Misty’s front door. She opened it dressed in tight black jeans and a frilly white shirt with fan sleeves. Her neck was loaded down with turquoise jewelry and she smelled heavenly.

  “You look gorgeous,” said Blaine. He reached for her, pulled her close and kissed her.

  She returned his kiss, then pulled away. “Let’s eat first. I might let you mess up my look later.”

  He grinned. “Deal. Where do you want to go?”

  “Somewhere I’ve never been.”

  “And where would that be?”

  “Tulley’s.”

  “Sure.”

  He helped her up into the truck then slipped behind the wheel and started the truck.

  “Do you think they’ll let us in?”

  “Why wouldn’t they?”

  “We might need a reservation.”

  “Little late for that. Let’s play it by ear.”

  Blaine drove east into the downtown core and stopped in front of the modern glass building. He hopped out, helped Misty down from the sidestep and gave his keys to the valet.

  The glassed-in foyer was full of people waiting for their reservations. Blaine took Misty’s arm and propelled her to the hostess lectern. “I’d like a table for two please,” he said, “Or a private dining room, if you have it.”

  “I’m afraid our reservation list is full for tonight, sir,” said the hostess. Then she laid the y’all come back line on him. “We’d love to have you dine with us another time.”

  The manager happened by at that moment sizing up the throng of waiting patrons and his face broke into a wide smile. “Mr. Blackmore-Powell, how lovely to see you. Let me seat you personally.” He grabbed two menus and waved them through the crowd.

  “How do they know you?” asked Misty in a whisper.

  Blaine shrugged. “No idea.”

  MISTY LEANED back on the headrest and closed her eyes on the way home from the restaurant. “I’m so full I can barely breathe. That was the best food I’ve ever had in my whole life.”

  “It was good,” said Blaine. “I like seafood.”

  “Those crab cakes, ooh.” She shivered. “What a turn on.”

  Blaine laughed at her. She was good for him. A light and breezy diversion from some of the heavier things he dealt with day to day. He parked in Mrs. Flores’ driveway and walked Misty across the lawn. “Enjoyed our date, Misty, I haven’t been out in... months.” He kissed her on the porch for several minutes, then pried himself away.

  “Can you come in for a while?”

  “I want to, but I can’t. I have to go to the park and check on my crew. The boys are expecting me.”

  “Sometimes I walk Hoodoo in Zilker at night. It always seemed safe.”

  Blaine inhaled sharply. “Don’t go there without me, okay?”

  “You my new bodyguard?”

  “Promise you won’t walk over there at night.”

  “Usually, I can tell if things aren’t right.”

  “How?”

  “I just know.”

  “Well in case you’re wrong one time, walk your dog someplace else.”

  “Thanks for dinner.” She kissed him on the neck and went inside.

  A relationship with her might be troublesome. Fun, but challenging.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Wednesday, December 6th.

  BEE CAVE was deserted as Blaine drove through the park and looked for a spot for his truck. He pulled into the visitor’s lot closest to where the boys were set up and ambled slowly through the park looking right and looking left to get a feel for what the killer would see.

  The lighting along the pathways was adequate for walking but wasn’t bright by any stretch. Which way did the killer come from? North or south end? Had he come in a vehicle then parked and walked? If he had, did anybody see his car, truck, whatever? Homicide did a thorough investigation and came up empty.

  One dog-walker met Blaine as he stood staring at his surroundings. An older gentleman with an overweight Basset Hound trudging along beside him, ears close to dragging on the path.

  “Nice cool evening,” said the man.

  “Yes, it is.”

  After he was out of sight, Blaine veered off the path, walked through a clump of trees and almost had to feel where the unit was, it blended in so completely with the dark green foliage surrounding it.

  He tapped twice on the door and Travis let him in. “Hey, boss. Anything out there?”

  “Nope. I didn’t pass Farrell. Where’s he positioned?”

  “Closer to the water. His choice.” Travis checked the time on his phone. “His shift is over. We’re up, Bluebelle.”

  Bluebelle thumped her tail twice on the floor of the unit when Travis said her name. She stood up and stretched.

  “How was your date, boss?”

  Blaine smiled. “Good. I had fun and the food was great. I’ll take y’all to Tulley’s for seafood soon. Haven’t been on a date for so fuckin long, I forgot how to act.”

  “Misty is super pretty,” said Travis.

  “Uh huh. A little quirky, but I’m okay with that. I have a few quirks myself.”

  Two taps on the door and Farrell was back.

  “I’m heading out,” said Travis, “before it gets crowded in here.”

  Farrell stepped back with Red and let Travis and Bluebelle out, then he hopped up the step and came inside.

  “See anything?” asked Blaine.

  “Not a damn thing, boss, and it’s nippy down there near the lake.”

  “I see you have a bandage on your neck. Did you need stitches?”

  “Only a couple. Brian, the doc, said it would heal up and be almost invisible.”

  “I talked to
Annie earlier and told her to snoop around for the gun.”

  “No. I don’t want her doing that. Race is right on the edge. I’m telling you, bro, that guy is loosely wound. What if he finds out she’s snooping and hurts her?”

  “I was thinking the other way around,” said Blaine. “If she finds the gun, Race’s hours are numbered.”

  ANNIE LAY in bed beside Race listening to his breathing and waiting until he was sound asleep. From all his years as a gang leader and then several stints in various prisons, he slept lightly and sat bolt upright at the slightest sound. Some nights he didn’t sleep at all. The last thing she wanted was him catching her near his truck.

  She waited another half hour to be sure and Race hadn’t moved. His breathing was even, and he was snoring softly as she slipped out of bed, grabbed track pants from the closet and left the room. In the darkness of the hallway, she pulled the pants on and headed for the kitchen. Race’s keys were on the rack next to hers. She picked them off the hook making sure they didn’t jangle, crossed the foyer and stepped outside onto the porch.

  The security light high on the pole by the gate lit up the whole compound and she didn’t need a flashlight. She waved to the night guard in his house next to the fence and headed for the line of trucks parked near the garage.

  Annie owned several trucks for the ranch—a red Ram painted with the Coulter-Ross logo that Wayne used to pull the matching horse trailer, a black Jeep Wrangler that should be traded in on a newer model, and the truck she drove—a dark blue Ram with a Viper engine. Each of the boys had trucks too, so the lineup was long.

  Race’s black Ford was parked close to the garage in the shadows, and peering through the back window showed her nothing. She pressed the fob, the locks clicked open, and as silently as she could she opened the rear door on the driver’s side.

  She stuck her hand under the seat and felt the cold steel of a rifle barrel. Anger overwhelmed her, hitting her with the force of a tsunami crashing against the beach and carrying with it a flood of disappointment and hurt. Finding the gun meant that Race, the man she loved and trusted, had tried to kill her son. That act, in itself, was enough to end their relationship, but was ending the relationship enough to quell her need for retribution?

  She left the gun, like Blaine had instructed her to do, and moved on to job number two. Search the glove box for ammo. She rounded the truck with renewed purpose, intending to open the passenger door and stick her hand in the glove box, but she didn’t get that far.

  Out of the shadows, something jumped out and zoomed in front of her. It hit her legs and she tripped. Not meaning to, she gripped the key fob too tightly and the truck alarm went off.

  “Fuck, no.” Annie picked herself up off the ground, quickly made sure the truck was closed up and locked, then stooped down and picked up the cat.

  She met Race crossing the porch in his boxers, hurrying towards his truck. “Look, sugar. I found Pyewacket hiding under your truck. She set the alarm off and I had to reset it.”

  Race grinned and took the cat from Annie. “Thanks so much, girl. You’re the best.” He stroked the big black Persian and nuzzled his face into her fur.

  Annie followed Race and his cat back into the house, locked the door, hung Race’s keys on the rack and went back to bed.

  She lay awake the rest of the night wanting to kill the man lying next to her. The man who had tried to kill her son.

  JESSE WOKE UP and sunlight was streaming across his bed. His heart pounded thinking he’d overslept and hadn’t heard Charity, or worse still, something was wrong with the baby. She never slept until morning. He was out of bed like a shot and hovering over the basinet when she opened her eyes.

  “Oh, my God, baby girl, I can’t believe you slept all night.” He picked her up, carried her to her room down the hall and changed her. “What a good girl you are.”

  She smiled up at him from the change table and his heart melted.

  ENRIGHT’S FUNERAL in Temple was low-key. His brother, Johnathan and his family, a couple of cousins and a poor representation from the DEA.

  “Small gathering,” said Travis on the way home. He sat in the back seat of Blaine’s truck with Lily. She was quiet and noticeably sad.

  “I don’t know if this is the proper time to talk about it,” said Farrell, “but Annie went snooping last night and she found the gun.”

  Blaine cranked his head around and stared at Farrell across the console. “And?”

  “And he almost caught her.” Farrell told the cat story, then asked, “What’s our next step, bro?”

  “She didn’t get a chance to look for the ammo?” asked Blaine.

  “Nope, the alarm went off and she had to lock the truck.”

  “Okay,” said Blaine, “we’ve got nothing to connect him to the shooting without the gun, so you’re gonna have to suck it up and charge him with assault.”

  “I get it,” said Farrell, “When the Sheriff picks him up to book him, we grab the gun.”

  IT WAS ALMOST FOUR when they arrived back at the office in Austin. Blaine was wiped but he wanted to interview Tad Braymore before he went home. He stood in the parking lot and gave directives. “Travis, drive Lily home, then get some sleep for tonight.”

  Travis nodded, took Lily’s elbow and handed her into his silver F-450.

  “Farrell, go to the La Grange police department and lay your charges. Have at least two deputies go to the ranch with you to bring him in. He’ll go ape-shit, I’d bet on it.”

  “Right, boss. Should I let Mom know ahead of time that this is going to happen?”

  “No, let it unfold. Let her be as surprised as Race. I don’t want any backlash coming down on her.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I had Lopez bring Tad Braymore in for questioning. Give me an hour with him, then I’m coming to the ranch. I want to be there when they come for Race.”

  AT POLICE HEADQUARTERS, Tad Braymore sat in an interrogation room waiting.

  “How long’s he been in there?” Blaine asked Lopez as he walked down the corridor with a Coke in his hand.

  “About an hour. How did the funeral go?”

  “Quiet. Very small.”

  “Damn shame.”

  “He’d worked out of the country for the DEA for so long, he didn’t have many friends here.”

  “Waste of a good man,” said Lopez.

  That doesn’t make me feel any better.

  Blaine inhaled a breath. “Okay, let’s see if this is the guy.”

  “Hope to hell and back it is,” said Lopez. “I need to close a fuckin case—at least one.”

  Blaine winked at him then went inside. “Mr. Braymore, how’s it going? Brought you a cold Coke.”

  Braymore glared. “I don’t want your fucking peace offering. Who are you anyway? He stared at Blaine’s tats and long hair. Since when do they let gangers in suits interrogate citizens?”

  “Since now.” Blaine sat down opposite Tad and looked him up and down. He fit into the age group for serials, just hitting on the young side, but he wasn’t too big. Unless he had a lot of hidden strength, Blaine couldn’t picture this guy overpowering women. He smiled. He’d been wrong before—but not often.

  “What are you looking so happy about?”

  “What’s your profession, Mr. Braymore?”

  “I’m a model.”

  Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Designer clothes?”

  “Yeah, so what? It pays the bills.”

  Blaine shrugged. “You between jobs right now?”

  “Is that a crime?”

  “Nope.”

  “Raping women and killing them—that’s a crime.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? Do I look like I would have to rape a woman to get it? Women are on me like bees on honey. Some days I need a break from them and have to turn off my fucking phone.”

  “Must be tough.”

  “You wouldn’t know. How could you? Looking like that, you’d scare the devil away.” />
  “Hope so.”

  “Who are you anyway? Some overzealous vice cop?”

  Blaine grinned. “Nope.”

  “Tell me why I’m here.”

  “I’m sure that was explained to you when you were brought to the station.”

  “Opaque, that’s what the explanation was. Vague and cloudy. Because I own a Chesapeake Bay and I live near LBL, I’m being questioned with a lot of other dog owners about the recent murder in Zilker Park.”

  Blaine nodded. “So you were listening.”

  “I was listening, and now I want you to listen. I didn’t kill anybody. I didn’t rape anybody and here comes the big one, I want a lawyer.”

  Blaine stood up. “That’s the one I was waiting for. I’ll see that you get your phone call. Enjoy your accommodation.” As he closed the door behind him, Tad was hollering. “You can’t hold me here. I didn’t do anything.”

  Lopez had been observing through the mirror and was leaning on the wall in the corridor. “I’ll give him his phone call. What else?”

  “Keep him overnight.”

  “You like him for it?”

  “Nope. Not our guy, but he’s dirty. Don’t know how, but I’ll find out.”

  Lopez grinned.

  BLAINE GAVE FARRELL a ‘heads up’ and headed for the highway. He wanted to call Misty but hadn’t had a chance all day. He flicked on his blinker for the ramp to I-71 and his cell rang on the passenger seat.

  “Hey, I was thinking about you.”

  “I know.”

  “How do you know? That’s the question.”

  “It’s a secret.” She giggled. “Solve any murders today?”

  “Working on it.”

  “Will I see you later?”

  “Maybe. I hope so. Something I have to straighten out first, then I’ll head back to Austin.”

  “I’ll watch for your truck.”

  AT COULTER-ROSS, Jose gave a friendly wave when he saw Blaine at the gate. The ten-foot wrought iron gate swung open and Blaine drove through like he’d done hundreds of times before. He missed the ranch and he missed Annie, but not enough to cope with Race Ogilvie day to day.

  Farrell’s red truck was missing, so he wasn’t back yet with the police. Blaine parked and strolled onto the porch. He opened the door and came face to face with the devil himself. “Mom around?”