by Carolina Mac
Blaine waited, hoping Cortez would calm down, but it didn’t happen. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Cortez. Miss Boyce was dead at the scene.” Blaine placed a card on the table. “If you could come downtown to the morgue in the morning and identify her body, we’d appreciate it.”
“This can’t be happening.” Cortez tore at his mop of hair. “You guys are fuckin useless,” he hollered. “You can’t catch one lone fuckin sniper. I’ll catch him myself, and I’ll rip his fuckin throat out with my bare hands.”
Farrell lit up a smoke when they got back to the truck. “Think he’s gonna do something crazy?”
“Yep. Sure do. That is one upset guy.”
“Did you see his cut on the back of the kitchen chair?”
“Yep. Blade Devils.”
“Do we have a count on them?”
“Phone Ortiz.”
Saint Michael’s Hospital. Austin.
THE PATIENT named Pedro Herrera—the guy Annie saved for questioning—was in surgery having the bullet removed from his leg. An officer was posted outside the operating room door and would be with Herrera until he could be interrogated.
The nurse on duty told them to come back between one and two and Herrera might be awake.
Back in the truck Farrell said, “Let’s stop at the I-hop and get breakfast. I’m starving.”
Blaine checked the time and said, “I guess we have time.”
“Like we have an appointment?” asked Farrell.
“Chief wants us at ten on the sniper.”
“Fuck that,” said Farrell. “We need food before we get our intestines ripped out.”
I-hop. Downtown Austin.
BLAINE was still laughing as they sat down at a window table in the I-hop. The waitress was on the job instantly with a pot of coffee in her hand and filled both their cups.
“I’ll give you a minute,” she said and sailed away to another table.
“Tell me about the new girl,” said Blaine as he opened four tiny creamers and frowned at the scarcity of cream in his coffee.
“Quinn. Gorgeous, sweet and fun. I think I’m in love.”
“Already? Didn’t you meet her yesterday?”
“Yeah, I was checking out biker hangouts trying to pick something up and there she was smiling down at me like an angel or some crazy thing.”
“You are whacked.” Blaine pointed a finger. “You’ve got to fix it with Mary. I don’t want her pissed at me too.”
“You bastard. That’s what you care about. Mary and the Agency. You don’t care about the layer of skin I’m about to lose.”
Blaine grinned. “Sure, I do, but maybe you should have told her it was over before you fell in love with somebody else. Just say’n… maybe.”
Farrell nodded. “Yeah. I have to talk to her, and I can’t put it off. I’ll see if she’s busy at lunch.”
West Lake Hills. Austin.
AFTER THE BODY was removed and the blood cleaned up in Brad’s front hall by the lab, the crowd of police persons left, and the house grew quiet.
“I’ll make breakfast,” said Annie. “Brad’s looking a little pale.”
“Brad’s feeling a little pale, Annie. Maybe food would help if it’s not too much trouble.”
“No trouble.” She opened the fridge door. “Let’s see what we’ve got to work with.”
“My housekeeper doesn’t come on the weekends,” said Brad, “and she does the shopping. I might need groceries.”
“Yep, you’re definitely geared up for a week of famine,” said Annie.
Brad tried to smile but he was still a little on the shaky side.
“I’ll run out to Dunkin,” said Travis. “Coffee, muffins and donuts coming up.”
“More carbs,” said Brad. “I have to work out today. No excuses.”
“Umm… I need to go home,” said Tyler. “The kids will wonder where we are.”
“The day should be relatively quiet,” said Annie. “After a bite of breakfast, we’ll both go home. Travis won’t let anything happen to Brad.”
“Will you come back tonight?” Brad sat at the table looking pale and wistful.
“I’ll play it by ear,” said Annie. “I might not need to. Blaine will question the intruder and we might have more information later in the day.”
Ranger Headquarters. Austin.
FARRELL set the tray of Starbuck’s containers on the Chief’s desk and flopped down in one of the vinyl chairs.
“You guys look beat,” said the Chief. “Got anything?”
“Everyday we have less,” said Blaine. “I blamed the rain. Now we’ve got sun and no rain and a dead girl. Makes no sense.”
“Did he know she was a girl?” asked the Chief. “Think he could tell from the bridge?”
Blaine shook his head. “Nope. He could see black leather on a Harley. I don’t think he knew.”
“Okay then, take that out of the mix. Four dead bikers. All from different clubs. None particularly notorious. How are we going to find the killer?”
“I’ve got the word out on the street and I’m waiting to hear from two or three sources,” said Farrell. “Nothing yet, but they promised me something.”
“What about Mary?” asked the Chief. “Should we try something in the paper?”
Farrell inhaled a couple of breaths and the Chief’s eyes narrowed. “What have you done to Mary, Farrell?”
“Nothing yet, Chief. I’m doing it at noon.”
The Chief’s fist came down hard on his desk. “Fuck that, son. I thought you had a good thing there.”
“Umm… I met someone else. Gotta see where it leads.”
The Chief shook his head. He turned away from Farrell in disgust and eyed Blaine. “Misty?”
“I’ve been thinking about using Misty, but we have nothing for her. All we have are the bullets taken from the victims.”
“Not much,” said the Chief, “but I have no idea what the young lady needs to see into the mystic.”
“Van Morrison,” mumbled Farrell.
“I’ll talk to ballistics in the morning and see if I can bring Misty in for a few minutes,” said Blaine. “If nothing comes of it, it will be the same as we have now. Dick all.”
Statesman Building. Downtown Austin.
FARRELL sat at the curb with the strobes flashing waiting for Mary. There never was any parking near her building. This was something he didn’t want to do and something he didn’t know how to do without hurting another person. Breaking up was hard to do. He hummed the song in his head. He wasn’t Neil Sedaka. His palms were sweating, and his mouth was dry. Shit. He felt mean already.
She came running out the front door and hopped into the shotgun seat. “Hey, Farrell, I heard there was another sniper killing. Were you there?”
“Yeah, he shot a girl off her bike. Might have thought she was a guy. Don’t know.”
“A female rider? Oh, that’s sad.” Mary made a face. “Are we having lunch for a reason or just because we haven’t seen each other for a couple of days.”
“Yep.”
“Which one?”
“The reason one.”
Mary let out a sigh. “Let me out at the corner, Farrell. I don’t want to hear it. I knew this was coming and I thought I was ready, but now I’m not. Let me out.”
Farrell activated the strobes and pulled over across a line of traffic and blaring horns to let Mary out. He wasn’t even fully stopped when she jumped out of the truck and ran along the sidewalk back to the building where she worked.
Jesus, I didn’t want that to happen.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
FARRELL ate lunch at home with Blaine, Casey, Misty and Carm. One taco was all he could choke down and he thought if he took another bite he was gonna puke.
Carm looked at him like he was sick because he always ate five or six of her special tacos and he wasn’t eating and wasn’t talking. Carm looked at Blacky and his brother shrugged it off. He knew.
“I’m going out for a
smoke.” Farrell pushed back from the table. He went out back, sat on the porch and felt worse than he’d ever felt before.
He never felt bad when he killed somebody. Felt nothing. Hurting Mary was worse. Definitely worse.
Saint Michael’s Hospital. Austin.
PEDRO HERRERA opened his eyes and stared at them like they weren’t really there. The bullet had been removed from his leg and he should make a full recovery according to the doctor.
“We’re from the police, Mr. Herrera,” said Blaine. “Can you answer a few questions for me?”
The eyes fluttered shut.
“Mr. Herrera, who sent you to Brad Madill’s house?”
No answer.
“Open your eyes and look at me, Mr. Herrera.”
The lids fluttered and the dark eyes didn’t really focus. “Did Leigh Kryssa send you to kill Brad Madill?”
“That’s enough, gentlemen,” said the nurse. “Your five minutes are up. You can try again tomorrow.”
Back in the truck Farrell said, “Young Latino ganger. Not even twenty, I’d guess. Wonder how much she paid him?”
“I’ll have him transferred to our infirmary,” said Blaine. “Might have better luck tomorrow.”
“It didn’t go well with Mary,” said Farrell as he reached for his smokes. Empty. He’d smoked a whole pack since the break up at noon. Fuck that.
“I was waiting until you wanted to talk about it,” said Blaine. “It’s hard to do.”
“I didn’t even get to let her down easy. She jumped out of the truck and ran.”
“Jesus, she must be upset. Maybe I should call her.”
“Would you? Just make sure she’s okay.”
“Yeah, I will.”
“Thanks, bro. I feel so goddam mean and miserable.”
Wylie Coyote. Austin.
FARRELL had been in such a funk from the Mary breakup, and filled with so much guilt he hadn’t had the heart to phone Quinn. He cleaned up after dinner and drove to the Coyote thinking he’d have a beer in her bar and see her for a minute if she wasn’t too busy fending off horny bikers.
The place was rocking when he arrived at nine. All the tables and booths were full, and he had to sit at the bar. He checked out all the cute girls in their little outfits and didn’t see Quinn. Maybe she was on her break or maybe she had already gone home. What he didn’t know about her would fill a book.
His eyes were on the game on the screen above the bar and he was about to order his second beer when she touched his arm and whispered, “I have a table for you.”
He stood up, picked up his almost empty glass and followed her towards the back. “I didn’t see you when I came in and I was pissed I didn’t ask you last night about your hours.”
“That’s okay,” she gave him the smile with the dimple. “I wasn’t thinking too much about my hours either.”
The table across from Farrell hollered for her. “Hey, Quinn, how about some beer?”
She gave them a wave and asked, “You want a menu?”
“No, I had dinner at home. Chips and salsa and a pitcher should do it.”
“I’m kind of busy, but I’ll get it as soon as I can.”
“Yep, I can see that you’re busy. You go ahead. I’ll just watch the action.”
“You looking for somebody?”
“I want to hear talk about the sniper,” said Farrell. “Anything.”
“Okay, I’ll tune in. Usually I tune out.”
Farrell grinned. “I know what you mean.”
He finished his pitcher and was about to leave when things got a little rough at the table across the aisle. Two big guys wearing leather cuts were standing up hollering at each other. “Who you calling an asshole?”
“That would be you, asshole,” hollered the other guy. He poked a finger into the other guy’s chest.
Two of the bouncers came running. “Take it outside, guys. Come on. No fighting inside the bar.”
“Yeah, like you can make us leave?”
The biker with the beard and the huge belt buckle shoved the big Hispanic bouncer backwards and he staggered into Farrell’s table. Farrell was on his feet. “I’ll help y’all out.”
“We can handle it,” said the bouncer.
“Then handle it,” barked Farrell and took a step back. Other patrons, mostly bikers from other clubs gathered around hoping to join in if a free-for-all broke out. They hollered out insults trying to move things along.
More hollering, cursing, pushing and shoving and one of the bouncers was knocked to the floor. Farrell pulled out his SW and waved it in the air. “Okay, that’s it. Everybody at this table settle up your tab and leave.”
The drunk biker with the beard laughed in Farrell’s face. “You think that gun will do you any good, cowboy?”
He pulled a knife and raised his arm, but before he could throw it, Farrell pulled the trigger.
Bang.
“Y’all get down on the floor on your faces. Hands behind your heads. Do it now.” He had already called it in. “Y’all are under arrest.”
The biker with the shot arm grabbed napkins and clamped them over the gusher in his arm. “I’ll get you for this, lunatic.”
“Fuck yourself, asshole,” said Farrell. “Quinn, get Rocky and the medics from the front door and bring them back here.”
Ranger Rockford followed Quinn back and he was laughing when he saw all the bikers lying on the floor. “You having another one of your parties without me, Dead-Eye?”
“Hey, I called and invited y’all. You can take all these assholes to holding and give them a bed for the night. They look tired.”
“I didn’t do nothing,” hollered one of the bikers at the far side of the table.
“Bad friends,” said Farrell. “Get better friends.”
Quinn kept serving drinks, but every time she passed by, she smiled at him.
“I’ve gotta help Rocky, but I’ll wait outside,” said Farrell, “and I’ll drive you home.”
When Quinn came running out of the bar an hour later, her face was flushed. “Everybody is talking about how you shot the knife out of Bucko’s hand.”
Farrell shrugged. “Kept him from throwing a blade through my heart. That’s all I was doing.”
“Can you come in for a beer?” she asked when they got to her house.
Farrell walked her to the door. “I want to, but I have to help Rocky book those guys and deal with the paperwork. I’m working for a couple hours yet.”
Quinn pulled him close and Farrell covered her mouth with his own. She deepened the kiss and he wanted nothing more than to take her inside and make love to her all night long.
“I’ve got to go before I can’t make myself leave.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Monday, October 1st.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE brought the morning meeting to order with a tap of his pen on his yellow pad.
“We’ve got a busy day ahead, so let’s not waste any time. Jesse and I have a meeting in Leighton’s office in half an hour. While we’re there trying to hang onto the Carpenter brothers and Ginette Romley, Lil will be at DPS trying to find out what the Carpenters were driving when the witness was run down. Those three are connected to Leigh Kryssa. I know it, but I can’t find any proof. Also, Misty will be with Lil at headquarters and will spend a few minutes with the Chief.”
Blaine blew out a breath and carried on. “Travis is still on Madill. A second try for him and the intruder, a guy named Pedro Herrera was shot in the leg and taken into custody. Jesse will interview Herrera in the infirmary at DPS after the meeting with Leighton. Luke and Fletcher will stay on Mrs. Kryssa.”
He pointed at Carlos. “Carlos and Farrell are on the street talking to gangers about the sniper. Somebody knows something and we’ve got to find it.” Blaine stood up and took his cup to the sink. “Let’s do it. Pressure is on and we’ve got no more time to asshole around. We’ve got to bust something open today.”
Dis
trict Attorney’s Office. Downtown Austin.
PERRY LEIGHTON looked stressed and a little worn around the edges when Blaine and Jesse arrived at his office. His silver hair wasn’t perfectly brushed the way it usually was, and tired lines showed around his eyes.
The DA’s assistant, Miss Simpkins was ready for them with fresh coffee and a plate of pastries. She was a daily customer of the bakery in the lobby of the building. “Good morning, gentlemen. Mr. Leighton is waiting for y’all.”
“Thank you,” said Blaine. He was surprised to see Anthony Carrillo munching on a croissant and chatting to the DA between mouthfuls. He offered his hand. “Mr. Carrillo.”
“Blackmore. Nice to see you too, Ranger Quantrall.”
They sat down and waited for Leighton to open up the dialogue. “Y’all know the reason why y’all are here. Mr. Carrillo feels there has been ample time to gather evidence against his clients—if there was any to gather—and since we haven’t done so, he feels the charges of suspicion have to be dropped.”
“We’re close to the evidence we need,” said Blaine, “and since there has been a second attempt on Mr. Madill’s life, I don’t see how we can drop the charges in good conscience.”
Leighton turned to Jesse to see if he had anything to add.
“Ginette Romley placed Jeff Turkovich, the shooter, in the Governor’s mansion with prior knowledge of what he was about to do. That clearly implicates her in the death of Randy Callaghan, the Governor’s husband who was shot by accident by Turkovich. Her charges should be upgraded to conspiracy to commit at the least. We can’t let her go.”
Leighton made a note. “Romley stays in holding and the Carpenter brothers are released with ankle monitors. Best I can do.”
Carrillo shook his head. “I think ankle monitors are a bit of overkill. Those boys aren’t going anywhere. There’s no proof on the table that they’ve done anything. Their only sin is being related to Miss Romley.”
