by Carolina Mac
“Sure can, boss. Happy to have an assignment. It’ll keep me busy until Blacky gets back from San Antonio.”
JESSE CLOSED the front door and gave Travis a wave. His cell jangled. Cumberland again.
“Hey, Sheriff, why are y’all working on a Sunday?’
“Low seniority,” he growled, and Jesse chuckled.
“Another sighting?”
“Nope, but you hit the nail on the head with the stolen vehicle idea. White Chevy pickup, five years old. Got the tag out there right away, so we might get lucky and spot him before he knocks off anybody else.”
“Killing machine,” said Jesse, “that’s what he is.”
“Doesn’t bother trying to cover it up much, does he?”
“He should be in Mexico by now,” said Jesse. “Why isn’t he long gone?”
“You asked me that already. Seems to be bothering you a might, and I admit, it makes no sense to me. Murder four people—four that we know of—then hang around waiting to get caught?”
“He’s staying far enough out of our reach until… what?” asked Jesse. “I’m sure he’s got lots of places he could go in Vegas. He owned that city most of his life.”
“But he’s travelling in a circle around here. I’m looking at the map on the wall in my office—Giddings, Lexington, Smithville. He’s circling, so there has to be a target.”
“Uh huh, I see what you’re getting at, but I’m no further ahead. If you figure it out, let me know.”
“Yep. Will do.”
AFTER ANNIE LEFT the hospital with Farrell, Blaine sat at Misty’s bedside for his allotted five minutes, then left the hospital in search of a hotel close by and some dinner. He had the duffel bag that Annie had thoughtfully packed for him—enough clean clothes for a couple of days at least.
He checked into the Marriott, showered and changed and was about to head downstairs for dinner when his cell rang. He didn’t recognize the number, but answered anyway.
“Hola.”
Carm, at last.
She spoke rapidly in Spanish and twice Blaine asked her to slow down. His Spanish had improved, but he had a long way to go to be considered fluent. She repeated the story and he understood the reason she was so upset. Her sister had taken a sudden turn for the worse, and passed away. Carm went into detail about the funeral mass she was planning for her sister and Blaine missed most of it. The part he got was clear. After the funeral, Carm wanted to come home to Austin and to him. He was her only family.
“Si,” he said, and proceeded to help her make a plan. The funeral was the following day, then she would spend two days cleaning and packing up the house. Could she come on Friday? Yes, he would pick her up at the train station. It would all work out.
The house was too big and too empty without her.
While he waited in the restaurant for his steak to arrive he called Travis to check on Hoodoo.
“Doc Dunbar has him at the clinic in Giddings,” said Travis. “He wants to measure how much the dog is eating for the next couple days. I’ll look in on him tomorrow. Misty any better?”
“Not awake yet and I got kicked out. See what happens tomorrow.”
The waiter brought his meal and even though he’d eaten next to nothing the past couple of days, Blaine could barely plow through his steak. He ordered coffee and called Annie.
“Did you pick Lexi up, Mom?”
“Yep, she was glad to see me too. Farrell has her with him. You know how he is with dogs. We fed her, honey. Don’t you worry.”
“I’ve done nothing but worry the past few days. I’m a freaking wreck of worry.”
“Well stop. Job well done. Scott said so. He went to Austin to tape an interview for the eleven o’clock news. Be sure to watch.”
“Okay, yeah, I will if I can stay awake that long.”
Blaine sat propped up in bed waiting for the news to come on. The team had brought Kingsley down—an evil predator off the streets of Austin for good. Why wasn’t he happy with his success? He’d never felt more let down at the end of a case. Misty might not recover. Farrell’s bad leg had suffered more damage. Hoodoo was in a dog hospital.
And Annie… he could barely let his mind wander in that direction. She was so far off the track diving into a personal relationship with Scott right after the mess she’d made of Jesse’s life.
Why did she love Race? How could she love Race? Blaine couldn’t fathom it. He used to be able to read her. They were soulmates—always on the same page—and now? Her every action was so far out of the norm—the norm for her—he had to wonder if something was affecting her reasoning. Did the head injury she suffered in her car accident have something to do with it? If he mentioned her seeing a neurologist, would she freak?
He sighed and turned up the volume when Scott came on the screen. His speech was the one Blaine had written in the cafeteria. Scott delivered it verbatim, with the addition of a couple of lines praising the violent crimes team and Austin PD.
He pressed the power button and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Monday, December 18th.
RACE WOKE to the roar of engines in the parking lot, and the smell of diesel fumes seeping into his room. He’d holed up for the night at the truck stop on route seventy-one at the Bastrop ramp. Not many cops around and he seemed to blend in with the other bearded drivers. Nobody gave him a second glance and that was exactly what he wanted.
Before heading to the restaurant for breakfast, he squeezed the last of the antiseptic cream from the tube, rubbed it sparingly over the wound and rebandaged his arm. It had stiffened up during the night, especially around his elbow, and his skin had a blue tinge to it all the way down to his wrist. He looked twice and thought the hint of blue might be just his imagination, considering the poor light in the tiny room.
Race shrugged his Texas sweatshirt over his head and sat on the side of the bed to count his remaining funds. Should be enough for today and tomorrow. He’d hit a bank machine in Yuma before he crossed the border. He shoved his wallet into the pocket of his jeans and went in search of food.
BLAINE ARRIVED at the hospital before visiting hours. He ate the breakfast special in the bustling cafeteria—two eggs over easy, sausages, home fries and toast. Working on his case notes in a corner of the room, he consumed too many cups of mediocre coffee while he waited to see Misty’s doctor. He called Mary Polito at the Statesman.
“Nice to hear from you, Mr. Blackmore-Powell. Wonderful job bringing down Kingsley.”
“That’s what I want to talk to you about, Mary. I’m working on my notes for homicide and thought I’d write something up for the paper. Kind of an inside exclusive that you could run with Kingsley’s picture.”
“That would be fantastic. Because of you, my boss has moved me up the ladder as a crime reporter, and I’m so grateful for your help.”
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I’m back in Austin.”
At nine, he made an inquiry and found Doctor Fielding’s office on the first floor. He tapped on the door and opened it.
“Aw, Mr. Blackmore-Powell, please come in.”
Fielding was a young-looking doctor for a specialist, tall and lean, with short dark hair. File folders, print-outs and reference books almost obliterated the surface of his desk. Behind him on the beige wall hung a half dozen framed certificates of achievement.
He reached for a chart and gave it the once over. “Let’s see. Miss Mulligan had a restful night. No problems. We’ve warmed her up. Her body temperature when she arrived was disturbing, but that’s been corrected. She’s being given protein intravenously, and once she’s awake and able to eat, we’ll get her started on some real food.”
“What’s your best guess on when she’ll be strong enough to go home? I’m not trying to rush you. I want to do some organizing and put things in place, that’s all.”
“Once she wakes up, I’ll have a far better idea. Why don’t you go sit with her, and talk to her and maybe that will encourage the y
oung lady to open her eyes.” Fielding smiled.
“I can do that. Thanks, Doctor.”
TRAVIS SPENT THE MORNING in Austin scoping out and pricing security systems for the Quantrall ranch. He picked up brochures and ballpark estimates for the two he liked best and figured he’d run the pros and cons of each system by Jesse later in the day. Then he would order the one they agreed on. Jesse had told him to go ahead and order one on his own, but if he made the wrong call, a lot of Quantrall money would be wasted. He’d take the cautious route. Just this once.
On his way to Quantrall, he stopped in at the animal clinic in Giddings and inquired at the front desk. “Is Doctor Dunbar busy?”
“He’s with a patient. Something I can help you with?”
Dunbar’s assistant, wearing a white lab coat over her clothes, wasn’t hard to look at. Long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and long eyelashes fluttering at him.
Was she flirting?
“I brought a dog in yesterday and I wondered if I could see him for a minute and find out how he’s doing?”
“Hoodoo, the big Bernese Mountain dog?” she asked.
“Uh huh.”
“Nice dog,” she said. “The doctor said the poor thing had been deprived of food for several days.”
“That’s true. He was kidnapped.”
Why did I tell her that?
“Aw, that’s terrible.” She made a sad face. “But, in answer to your question, yes, he is doing better. I’ll show you where he is.”
Travis followed the girl down a long hallway to the back of the building. Hoodoo was in a large crate in the hospital room. Two other dogs were in similar crates next to him. He wagged his tail when he saw Travis.
“He’s glad to see you,” said the assistant. She opened the door and Travis reached in and stroked Hoodoo’s head.
“Any idea when he’ll be able to go?”
“No, I don’t, but if you leave a number, I’ll find out and call you.”
“Okay, thanks.” Travis fished out an Agency card and gave it to her.
She studied it. “Deputy Travis Bristol, you’re a police officer.”
“Uh huh.”
She walked him out. “I’ll call as soon as I know anything.”
Travis gave her a little wave and left.
Didn’t get her name or her number. Do I want her number? Not really. I should call Lily and take a step in her direction.
ANNIE SAT in the great room watching Declan change the bandage on Farrell’s leg.
“Can’t tell you how happy I am to be home, Mom. Feel better already.”
“I hope Misty is doing better today,” said Annie. “Blaine is beside himself worrying over her.”
“He said he’d call me when she woke up,” said Farrell.”
Annie’s cell rang in the pocket of her jeans. She glanced at the screen, then walked into the hallway to take the call. “Hey, sugar, is there a problem? You don’t usually have time to call me during the day.”
“One huge problem, and you can guess what it is. I slept alone in the mansion last night and hated it. You spoiled me and now I can’t stand being away from you, sweetheart. You gave me new life, and I don’t think weekends are going to be enough for me.”
Oh, my God, the cling-on phase.
“Friday night will come soon enough. Keep your nose to the Texas grindstone.” She giggled.
“I’m trying, but I’m failing miserably. I love you, Annie.”
RACE GASSED up the Chevy pickup without shutting off the engine and bought a Coke and a bag of plain Lays’ in the convenience store.
He cruised north through Giddings, then turned off the highway and drove along the county line. He took the next left and cruised slowly past the only ranch in that section. He gave a little nod of satisfaction as he passed the Appaloosa painted on the huge sign at the end of the laneway. Quantrall.
How long had it taken him? He checked the time on the dash and noted it in his head.
MISTY OPENED HER EYES and there was Blaine, right beside her. She tried to smile, but her mouth was dry, and her lips felt like they might crack.
“Hey, I’m happy you’re awake,” he whispered.
“Wa…” The sound came out croaky and she couldn’t finish the word.
“I’ll get you water.” Blaine jumped up and sped off to find a nurse. Instead he met Doctor Fielding coming through the door. “She’s awake and she needs water.”
Fielding smiled. “Great news. Give me a moment and we’ll get her fixed up.” The doctor did a quick examination then motioned to Blaine and he was allowed to go back in.
His heart thumped, grateful she was alive. He sat down and reached for her hand.
“Where’s Hoo?”
“Travis took him to a clinic. He’s in good hands and he’s eating.”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “I didn’t think you would find us in time.”
Me neither. But I’m not saying it out loud.
“The boys helped me. My team is great and so are our dogs.”
“Kingsley?”
Blaine shook his head. “He’s in the morgue.”
Relief surged through her and she couldn’t hold back the tears. “Did you kill him?”
“Farrell did.”
“Remind me to thank Farrell.”
A nurse came and gave Blaine a signal. “I have to go, but I’ll be back. It will be better for visiting when you get your own room.” He leaned down and kissed her.
“I’ll just sleep while you’re gone.” She closed her eyes.
DINNER WAS OVER, and Annie took her second cup of coffee into the great room to sit with Farrell. She took his tray from him and set it out of the way on the ottoman.
“Doing okay?”
He nodded. “I slept a lot today. Dec keeps the pain down to a nice low level.”
“He’s a good one.”
“Whose talking about me?” The dark-haired Irishman swaggered through the back door. “Just about time to get this kid to bed.”
“Don’t know how I could be tired,” said Farrell, “sitting here all day staring at the tube, but I’m beat. Ready if you are, Dec.”
Declan helped Farrell to his feet and supported him on the trip down the hall.
Annie picked up the tray and headed for the kitchen. She thought she heard a knock and wondered who could be on her porch at this hour. She set the tray on the island, crossed the foyer and opened the door. “Scott, this is a surprise.”
RACE WAITED UNTIL after midnight before he began his mission. His head ached, his arm throbbed, and he had never felt worse. Four Advil extra strength weren’t cutting it. He needed something a whole lot stronger. He knew where to get it, and he’d stop off there on his way south, right after he tied up this one last loose end.
He’d known how Annie felt about Jesse Quantrall from the first time he’d seen them together. Didn’t matter that they weren’t married any more, she’d never give up on him. If Race wanted to get back in her good graces, he’d have to clear the decks—eliminate the competition. He’d been in that position once, where there was no competition. They were everything to each other and he’d do anything it took to get her back. Anything.
He retraced the route he’d taken earlier in the day and arrived at the end of the Quantrall lane at ten after one. The lane was long and well treed on both sides—at least a quarter mile, curving gently towards the house. He doused the headlights, drove halfway in the lane and parked. Pitch black as he jumped out of the truck, but it took only moments for his eyes to adjust as he followed the lane and walked the rest of the way.
The big Spanish mansion was all in darkness except for one little light on the second floor. Race didn’t know if the house was equipped with a security system, but he figured with the big bucks these guys had, they’d have one. He’d deal with it as soon as he was inside the door.
As he worked his way up in his Vegas club, B&E had been his specialty. Inside of ten minutes, he could be in and out o
f a house, carrying off all their best electronics, and the home owners never even knew he was there. Until the next morning.
Silently, he crossed the porch and tried the handle on the front door. Not even locked. What the hell were these cowboy assholes thinking? I guess if you lived in the middle of butt-crack county, who the hell would be around to rob you?
Race checked the wall inside the front door and there was no security panel. He shook his head, crossed the foyer and with some difficulty and protesting pain from his leg wound, he climbed the curved stairs to the second floor. Now came the hard part. Which room did Jesse sleep in? He didn’t want to wake up the other brothers before he did what he came to do.
The bedroom door at the top of the stairs was open a little. Race peered in and with the small amount of moonlight coming through the window he could see that the guy in the bed wasn’t Jesse. He moved on to door number two—closed tight. He’d come back to that one.
Third door on the right. How many fuckin bedrooms did this mansion have? The door was open, and a tiny light was on. Race stepped into the room and saw the crib.
Why is there a baby crib?
JESSE SAT BOLT UPRIGHT. The monitor beside his head emitted a sound that woke him up. He was used to listening for Charity and he’d become a light sleeper of late. But she wasn’t crying, it was a different noise—somebody moving around. Maybe Tyler was up checking on her or… maybe not. The monitor often picked up noises in the hall.
He grabbed his gun off the nightstand out of habit and chambered a round as he opened the door of his room. Quietly, he stepped into the wide hallway. He flicked on the hall light and saw a man about to go into his baby’s room.
“Stop right there.” Jesse took a stance and aimed his Beretta.
Ogilvie turned and raised the gun in his left hand. Jesse pulled the trigger and the noise was deafening. From four feet away, he could hardly miss. Race dropped onto the carpet without a sound. Dead.
