by Carolina Mac
“Right.” Blaine’s heart was about to give out on him. He couldn’t think rationally, and his hands shook as he opened his backpack and fished around in the dark for the bag of biscuits.
“I heard a shot,” Farrell’s voice in Blaine’s ear startled him so bad he dropped the bag of biscuits. He bent down and groped around for them in the pitch black.
“Nearly fuckin deafened me,” said Farrell. “You got her?”
“We’ve got her. We’re on the way back and it will take a while. Travis is carrying her. Is the ambulance still there?”
“Yep.”
“She’s unconscious,” said Blaine. “Don’t let them leave.”
RACE PULLED INTO a Wal-Mart parking lot on the north end of Smithville. The pain in his arm had increased tenfold and was making it impossible for him to think. The arm had grown so weak in the past couple of hours, he had no strength in his hand to squeeze the gas. He’d stopped twice to hurl into the ditch. His stomach was on the outs now—just what he needed—another complication to slow him down.
He parked the bike in a crowded row of vehicles, checked to make sure no one was watching, then jerked the tag off and tossed it into a dumpster in the far corner of the lot.
Four rows over, he spotted a white Chevy pickup that wasn’t locked—older model that he knew he could hotwire before the owner blinked. He had it running in under thirty seconds. Speed was everything when you were in the business of jacking vehicles.
He hopped behind the wheel, put the truck in drive and rested his right arm on the console. He let out a sigh of relief and headed back to the truck stop he’d seen at the ramp on route seventy-one.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Sunday, December 17th.
BLAINE HELD THE LEASHES for both Red and Bluebelle and lighted the way for Travis as they trudged back the way they had come. Hoodoo fell behind a couple of times, weak and exhausted from starvation, he whined and lay down on the forest floor. They stopped each time, and Blaine knelt down beside him, stroked his head, gave him a couple more biscuits and urged him on.
Several times Blaine shone the light in Misty’s face, as she hung like a rag doll over Travis’ shoulder, checking to see if she was awake, but no. Her eyes remained closed and she was still unconsciousness.
When Blaine and Travis neared the shack, the paramedics heard them coming through the bush in the dark, and rushed to help with Misty. They placed her on a gurney, wrapped her in blankets and started an IV.
“Where are you taking her?” asked Blaine.
“Closest facility would be San Antone,” said Mark. “We’ll take her to Guadalupe Health Center.”
“I’ll follow you,” said Blaine. To Farrell: “Do you want Detective Nielsen to drive your truck back to headquarters?”
“If he don’t mind doing it,” said Farrell. “After my leg is fixed, I can pick it up. Should be safe there for a day or two.” He fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to Blaine.
Blaine turned to Travis: “You’ve got all the dogs. Feed them all when you get home, then first thing in the morning, take Hoodoo to an emergency clinic.”
“Yep. I’ll feed them first thing when I get home.”
Lopez waved an arm when everybody was sorted. “Okay, let’s all get the hell out of here.”
GUADALUPE HEALTH CENTRE on the outskirts of San Antonio was a state of the art facility with a top-notch trauma unit. The paramedics who had waited for hours for her to be found, whisked Misty into an examination room and turned her over to hospital staff.
Blaine thanked them for their patience and wished them well. He collapsed into the nearest chair and let his head flop onto his chest. She was in good hands now and nothing for him to do but wait.
He was in a deep sleep and jumped when his cell rang on his belt. Still groggy from not enough sleep, he answered, “Hey, Mom.”
“You sound wiped, sweetheart. Did you find Misty?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if we were in time. I’m at a trauma center near San Antone.”
“Give me directions, I’ll come and sit with you.”
“You don’t need to do that. It’s the middle of the night.”
Annie giggled. “No, it isn’t. It’s six thirty. Time to get up.”
“Jeeze, I lost all track of time. Guess I need to go search for my morning coffee.”
“I’m on my way to you. See you soon.”
RACE WOKE and pulled the thin blanket closer around him. His arm throbbed as a chill ran through his body. “I need to get some hot coffee and warm up.” He sat on the side of the cot and his head swam. “Whew. Sat up too fast.” He lay back against the pillow, gazed around the tiny room at the bare walls, and waited for the sensation to pass.
The second time he got up, he had better luck. He used the facilities, showered, toweled off and glanced at the beard. Almost unrecognizable, even to himself. He smiled at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, and headed for the restaurant.
Crowded with truckers, he had a time finding an empty table. He stood and waited until a busboy cleared one and wiped it, then sat down and ordered coffee and the breakfast special. Truck stops had big portions and fast service and the prices couldn’t be beat. Race had a limited supply of cash—Fat Boy’s life savings—and he hesitated to use a card or go to a bank until he was almost at the border. Then he’d take his chances. Use the bank card, take out his limit and beat it into Mexico before anybody tracked the withdrawal. He’d cross at Yuma. Yep, Yuma was his first choice. The place held a special pull for him.
As he drank his coffee and waited for the food to come, he thought about his plan—one last thing to take care of. He had it almost worked out in his head and tonight he’d put it into action. He hadn’t had any fun since he’d killed the three bikers. He smiled thinking about it.
Tonight, was the night he’d do it. Once this last detail was out of the way, he’d beat it down south, lay low on a beach and bide his time until things cooled down. The asshole cops would give up looking for him soon enough. They always did.
JESSE WASHED HIS HANDS after morning chores, and was drying them when his cell rang. “Hang on.” He put the towel down and grabbed his phone. Sheriff’s Office.
“Tell me you got him, Sheriff.”
“Almost.”
Jesse frowned at the phone. “What’s almost mean?”
“The Harley was abandoned in a Wal-Mart parking lot near Smithville. No tag on it.”
“No sign of Race?”
“Nope. No sign of him.”
“Nobody saw anything?” asked Jesse. “One of those?”
“Uh huh.”
“Any reports of a stolen vehicle close to that store?”
“Haven’t had time to check into it, but I will. If it belongs to an employee working the night shift in the store, they might not know it’s gone yet.”
“Let me know if you get something. At least we’ll know what he’s driving, and we can get a fresh BOLO out.”
“Roger that.”
ANNIE CLEARED THE TABLE after breakfast and loaded the dishwasher.
“You look like you’re in a hurry, sweetheart.” Scott sat at the harvest table in a track suit reading the Sunday Statesman. “Something you haven’t told me?”
“Blaine’s at the hospital in San Antonio with Misty and Farrell. I’m going to sit with him for a spell. Maybe Farrell will be able to come home.”
“What happened to Farrell?” Scott wore an annoyed look. “You didn’t tell me you talked to Blaine. I haven’t heard a single detail.”
“Farrell got hurt. I don’t know the details and I don’t believe there’s been time for Blaine to call you. He was way out in hill country in the bush for hours looking for Misty.”
“If he found Misty, he must have Kingsley in custody.” Scott stood up and started pacing. “Goddam it, Annie. I hate being in the dark. He slapped the paper down on the table and took a stance. “It’s my job to be on top of everything—everything in the whol
e goddam state. If the team has things wrapped up, I should be making a goddam statement.”
Annie grabbed for his hand and squeezed it. “Stop, Scotty.” She put her finger to her lips. “Stop it. Go change your clothes and we’ll meet Blaine at the hospital. You can find out what you need to know, straight from the horse’s mouth. You can sit down with him over coffee, and draft up something for the media.”
Scott took Annie in his arms and kissed her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t let the pressure get to me and invade my personal life. Lately, it colors everything I do or say, and it shouldn’t be that way. I need to learn to relax if I’m going to survive to the end of my term. My doctor scheduled me for classes after my coronary last year, and I didn’t have time to go—or thought I didn’t. Maybe I should rethink that decision and take a long, hard look at myself.” He wrapped her in a hug and whispered into her hair, “I love you, Annie. I need you to keep me on track.”
Get it together, Scott. The last thing I need in my life is another man to take care of.
BLAINE RETURNED from the cafeteria with a large coffee and sought out Misty’s doctor. He found him at the nurses’ station in the intensive care unit. “Doctor Fielding, any news on Misty?”
Fielding turned and flashed him a smile he wasn’t expecting. “Mr. Blackmore-Powell, I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you when we first spoke. I think I was concentrating on Miss Mulligan.”
“No reason to apologize. I like to keep a low profile. Better for business.”
“Rumor has it you wrapped up some nasty business.”
“Mostly Farrell, but we all did our part.”
The doctor pointed down the hall, “That’s the young fellow getting stitches in his leg?”
“My brother, Deputy Donovan.”
“Come with me and I’ll let you see Miss Mulligan for a moment. I’m letting her wake gradually, but I’m afraid it will take several weeks before she gets her strength back after her confinement, and being deprived of food for so long.”
“I’m thankful she had water,” said Blaine.
Doctor Fielding led the way to Misty’s bed and pointed to the only chair. “Two minutes, then we’ll let her sleep until she wakes up on her own.”
Blaine nodded. The doctor walked away, and Blaine reached out and took Misty’s hand. Pale and still, she looked like a sleeping angel, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Tears burned behind his eyes and he fought them back. “I’m so sorry, baby. I let you down. I should have taken better care of you.”
It seemed like only seconds, Doctor Fielding was back asking him to leave. “Your brother is asking for you.”
FARRELL SAT PROPPED UP in a private room, his leg wrapped in a large bandage. Blaine walked in and sat in the chair next to the bed. “Sorry you got hurt, bro.”
I’m apologizing to everybody. What happened to me?
“Not your fault. Kingsley’s fault and he’s dead. Guess I got even.”
“Yeah, guess you did.”
“Did you get in to see Misty?”
“Two minutes was all I was allowed, but she’s not awake and according to her doctor, she won’t be for a while yet.”
“She’s gonna be okay,” Farrell said, “Think positive.”
“Jesus, bro, I should have had protection on her from the minute the sketch came out in the fuckin paper.”
“You can’t blame yourself. Kingsley would never have known it was her if she hadn’t gone to the clinic on her own to take a closer look at him.”
“Even then, he might not have connected her to the sketch, but he got vibes from her—he must have.”
“No use worrying about it now. Take care of her when she gets out of here and help her get better. That’s all you can do.”
“Hey, do I hear my boys talking in here?” The door opened, and a smiling Annie walked through with the Governor on her heels.
Blaine stood up and gave her a hug. “Hi, Mom, and before you say it, I know I’ve looked better. I need a shower, a shave and a change of clothes.”
“Thought you might, that’s why I brought clothes and some toiletries for both of you.” She leaned down and hugged Farrell. “How’s your leg, baby? It’s not the snake-bit leg, is it?”
“Sure as hell is, Mom. Fate’s agin me.”
“You’ll have to rest for a while at home. Before we leave, I’ll find out if I can take you with me.”
Scott stood behind Annie and spoke to Farrell. “I’m sorry you were wounded, Farrell.” He leaned down and shook Farrell’s hand. “Thanks for all your hard work and long hours you put in on the case.” He turned to Blaine. “Maybe you and I should catch up, son.”
“Uh huh, let me grab my notes, and we’ll go to the cafeteria for a coffee.”
Annie winked at Scott. “See, he has notes.” To Blaine: “Bring us a coffee, sugar. “I’ll stay here with my baby.”
TRAVIS DROVE HOME to his apartment above the antique store in La Grange. He let the dogs have a few minutes in the parking area, then took them upstairs, fed them and crashed for a couple of hours. He was dead beat from all the bush tramping they’d done and so were the dogs.
When he got up around three in the afternoon, he brewed a pot of coffee and called the vet that Jesse used for Red and Bluebelle. He didn’t expect an answer on a Sunday afternoon, but thought there might be a recorded number for emergencies. There was, and he wrote it down. He called and explained about Hoodoo and Doctor Dunbar said he’d meet him at his clinic in half an hour.
Travis sat at the kitchen table, drank his second mug of coffee and stroked Hoodoo’s head. The big fellow hadn’t moved off the kitchen mat since he’d arrived.
Tired and stressed from the way his life had been going, or not going since Race Ogilvie was released from Huntsville, Travis put the damper on his mental pity-party and sucked it up. He loaded the three dogs into his truck and headed for Giddings. “I’ll take you two home after the vet, okay?”
Bluebelle sat in the shotgun seat and wagged her tail. She was Travis’ special favorite.
Doctor Dunbar, greeted Travis at the door of the clinic and locked it after him. “Don’t get too many emergencies, that truly are emergencies,” he said, “Most calls are from people with a cat or a small dog that’s off its food, and they only think it’s an emergency.”
“Well Hoodoo was kidnapped and left to die out in hill country. My partner and I gave him some biscuits last night when we found him, and I fed him the food our other dogs eat when he got to my place, but he didn’t eat all I gave him.”
“Beautiful Bernese,” said the doc. “Don’t have occasion to treat many of these fellows.” Dunbar looked into Hoodoo’s eyes with a little penlight. “Would you mind if I kept him here a couple of days. I want to monitor how much he’s eating and drinking until we get him back on his feet. His energy level is rock bottom at the moment.”
“Sure, I’ll come and check on him tomorrow. He knows me a little bit, but I’m sure he’s missing his owner.”
Doctor Dunbar raised an eyebrow. “Did something happen to his owner?”
Travis didn’t elaborate. “She’ll be in the hospital for a few more days.”
“I see,” said the vet. He stroked the big dog’s head. “That’s why Hoodoo is sad.”
With Hoodoo in good hands, Travis drove north to Quantrall to return Red and Bluebelle to Jesse. He took the dogs to the barn, then trotted across the compound to the house and knocked on the door.
“Hey, Trav, nice to see you,” said Jesse. “Come on in.”
“I put the dogs in the barn. Just came from the vet clinic. Doc Dunbar opened up special to take a look at Hoodoo.”
“Is that Misty’s Bernese?”
“Uh huh. He’s in rough shape.”
“Did you put it on the Agency account?”
Travis nodded. “Hope it’s not too much.”
“Don’t matter.” Jesse pointed Travis into the great room where Tyler sat in a wing chair holding the baby. “The girl has
been through enough without losing her dog.”
“True enough,” said Travis. “She hasn’t regained consciousness yet. Blacky is staying in San Antone, so he can be at the hospital with her.”
“I want to hear all the details. Sit down there next to Ty and I’ll get us all a beer.”
Travis looked down at the bundle in pink that Tyler was holding on to like she was solid gold. “This is the first time I’ve seen your daughter, boss.”
Jesse returned from the kitchen and handed Travis a Lone Star. He set Tyler’s beer on the table next to the baby’s bottle.
“She’s perfect,” said Jesse. “Never was there a better baby, right Ty?”
“She don’t cry hardly,” said Tyler. “She smiles when you pick her up and she drinks all her milk. Yep, she’s perfect, I reckon.”
“A good surprise for y’all then,” said Travis.
A sad look crossed Jesse’s face before he smiled. “A twist of fate that couldn’t have come at a better time for me. Just when… never mind, you know all of it anyway. But if you want something to divert your attention from a shitstorm,” Jesse winked at Travis, “you get yourself a baby.”
“Fuck.” Travis laughed out loud.
After bringing Jesse up to date on the case, Travis stood up to take his leave.
“Sit back down for a minute, Trav,” said Jesse, “Something else I been meaning to talk to you about.”
“Hope it’s good. I could use a picker-upper.”
“Not that good, but its work you can do for me. Now that I have little Miss Quantrall living here, I need a security system installed. Daddy never bothered. Probably thought he’d just shoot anybody that broke in, but I’d like a little warning.”
“Did you have a system in mind?” asked Travis.
“Nope, that’s what I’m leaving up to you. Go search out the best system with the quickest response time,” Jesse waved his arm in a circle, “Take into account the ranch is ten minutes from the closest Sheriff’s office. You’re the electronics expert, so I’ll leave the selection in your hands. When the company delivers, I want you to monitor the installation. Could you do that for me?”
