Road Kill

by Carolina Mac

  “I’ll do my table dance.”

  “Good enough.”

  Lil knows what everybody should be doing. She’s more organized than I am.

  Blaine pulled out of Starbucks, thinking about the sniper kid and a creepy feeling ran up the back of his neck.

  What the hell am I missing?”

  Half-way House. Mueller Area. Austin.

  ON THE way back from the airport, Blaine cruised by the house under surveillance and was just in time to see Farrell changing off with Carlos on the street.

  He parked his truck, jogged down the sidewalk and leaned on the driver’s side window. “Anything?”

  “Quiet street,” said Carlos. “Nothing much happening all night.”

  “Were you talking to the Junkers in the lane out back?”

  “Yep. They saw the drug kid creeping around out back but didn’t bother with him. Other than that, nada.”

  “What if the sniper made the surveillance and decided not to chance it?” asked Farrell.

  “Do you think he lives in one of these other houses?” asked Carlos.

  “If he does why would he stash his gun under the back porch of this house?” asked Blaine.

  Farrell shrugged. “I know one thing that’s gonna happen. As soon as it’s dark tonight, I’m looking under the porch.”

  As Blaine drove down the street, he saw Mr. Emmery, the house manager watching him from the porch.

  “He knows something.”

  Blaine wheeled around, made a three-point turn and parked in front of the half-way house. He stood on the bottom step, looked up at Norm Emmery and said, “Did you think of anything else after we talked?”

  “No, I didn’t, but I wondered why y’all are watching the house. It’s making the residents nervous.”

  “Would you mind if we had a look around the property?”

  “I couldn’t let you do that. It would be too disturbing for the residents. They’re easily upset by anything that isn’t routine.”

  “The city owns the house?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Thank you.”

  As Blaine drove to the Agency he called Farrell.

  “Yeah, bro.”

  “The manager is antsy. If he goes out, tail him.”

  “Roger that.”

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  ANNIE waved to Brad Madill as Declan helped him into the truck. Travis was under strict orders from Declan to only let the AG stay at his office until noon, then take him home to rest.

  With the shooter being transferred to the infirmary at Ranger Headquarters, and Mrs. Kryssa being brought in for further questioning, it should be clear sailing for Travis.

  Annie headed into the kitchen and poured a second cup of coffee before cleaning up the breakfast dishes. Travis had been sweet to her and sympathetic knowing how unhappy she was with Tyler leaving. Even Jesse said Tyler wasn’t being fair. That was something coming from the king of the hotheads.

  She was loading the dishwasher and heard the text come in on her phone. She ignored it until the load was in and the machine turned on.

  “Thanks for everything, Mom. I love you.”

  “Neil.” Annie’s eyes overflowed, she loved her boys so much.

  “I love you, baby. Come home soon.”

  “Next weekend, Mom, I’m riding with Blacky and Farrell. And don’t forget the kid’s birthdays.”

  “How could I forget that?”

  While she sent that text, another arrived.

  “Sorry, Annie. I love you but I need some time.”

  Anger replaced the pity party she’d been hosting in her head and she struck out at him.

  “Grow up, Tyler. Marriage isn’t a fucking game.”

  Annie grabbed her barn jacket off the hook on the back of the kitchen door, shrugged it on and went where she always went she needed someone to talk to.

  Quantrall Ranch. Giddings.

  TYLER went about his chores after breakfast feeling low about leaving Annie and questioning his own decision. How could he leave his wife, the only person he’d ever loved, twice already in their short marriage? What the hell was wrong with him? He sat on the stool at his desk in the barn office and sent a text.

  Can I go back to her? Will she take me back?

  Annie’s reply came back in seconds and he knew he was in deep trouble.

  “Be back in a while, Paulie,” he hollered to his brother. He tromped to the house, packed a duffel bag with enough stuff for a couple of days, called Red and Bluebelle to join him in the truck, and drove out to the trailer.

  If the trailer worked for Jesse, maybe it will work for me.

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  JESSE arrived in the infirmary lockup just after the patients finished breakfast. The new arrival, Mitchell Meyers was secured in bed one, the first one inside the door of the ward.

  Jesse pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed. “Morning, Mr. Meyers. I see you’ve arrived safely from La Grange hospital.”

  “Safely?” He rolled his brown eyes at Jesse. “I’m fuckin shot and I might never walk again.”

  “Is that what the doctor said?”

  “I wasn’t listening.”

  “I hope you’re listening now,” said Jesse. “Because it would be in your best interest to think about your options.”

  “Give them to me without any cop bullshit. Give me the short version.”

  Jesse smiled. “This is the Reader’s Digest version. You testify against Leigh Kryssa and plead down to a lesser charge.”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Jesse placed one of his cards on the table next to the bed. “You think hard on it and call me.”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE was in the morning meeting with Marisol Ibanez, Casey’s tutor. She liked to update him on Monday mornings and tell him what she planned for the week ahead. He didn’t care how she taught Casey as long as he learned enough to graduate.

  He was half listening to her and the other half of his brain was searching Austin for the bike sniper. He had to find that kid and he was so close he could feel it.

  “How does that sound?” she asked, and he hadn’t heard a word of it.

  “You go ahead, Marisol. I think you’re doing a great job.” He picked up his ringing cell, “Luke, what?”

  “Lost her downtown in traffic. She could have gone into a parking lot or a ramp. Fletch turned the corner and we can’t see her.”

  “What’s the tag say?”

  “The tag is gone.”

  “Fuck,” hollered Blaine. “What buildings are you near? Not near the Clement’s Building are y’all?”

  “Umm… I’m looking,” said Luke. “That could be it. Uh huh.”

  “That’s Madill’s office. Get in there. I’m calling Travis.”

  Office of the Attorney General for Texas. Austin.

  MADILL was in his private office sorting through the accumulation on his desk while Travis sat in the outer reception area with Charlene.

  “He can only stay until noon?” she asked staring at the calendar on her screen. “He has previously cancelled meetings rescheduled all day long for the next two weeks.”

  “Noon, then he has to go home, take his meds and rest,” said Travis. “Same thing every day this week. You might have to shuffle some of those meetings around for him.”

  Charlene made a face and shook her head.

  Travis grabbed for his cell on his belt when it rang. “Boss?”

  “The boys lost Kryssa downtown. She could be in the building.”

  “Got it.” He stood up and closed the outer door. “Charlene, go into his office and both of you go into the bathroom and lock the door until I come get you.”

  Charlene began to smile thinking it was a joke.

  “Do it now,” Travis shouted as he reached for his Sig.

  Her smile vanished and she gave a little squeal as she ran into Madill’s office.

  He barely had h
is gun out of the harness when Leigh Kryssa came charging through the door with a .38 Special in her hand.

  “Drop the gun.” Two handed, Travis leveled his gun at her chest.

  Startled, she turned and fired. The shot went high. Into the wall over his left shoulder. Glass shattered and rained down on him. Before she could fire again, Travis pulled the trigger. Close range. Upper center mass.

  Without a sound or a gurgle, Leigh Kryssa crumpled to the floor in a heap, the gun falling from her dead hand.

  He called Blacky. “She’s dead. Get everybody over here. I’ve got to get Madill out of the can.”

  “Good job. On my way. I’ll call Calhoun.”

  Fletch and Luke came running through the open door, a crowd of employees had already formed behind them, trying to get a look.

  “Heard a shot,” hollered Fletch. He looked down at Mrs. Kryssa, pools of blood leaching into government carpeting. “She swept her Lexus and we lost her.”

  “Found her,” said Travis.

  “Nice job,” said Luke. He closed the office door in the face of a dozen people.

  “Thanks,” said Travis. “Everybody’s been called, and the boss is coming. You guys watch the elevators. Keep the media off this floor.”

  “Yep. Doing it.” Luke and Fletch left on the run.

  Travis entered Madill’s private office and tapped on the bathroom door. “All clear, sir.”

  Charlene opened the door looking a little pale and shaken. Travis pointed to the seating area near the window. “Both of you over there. Mr. Madill preferably lying down until his statement can be taken and then I’ll drive him home.”

  “I can wait in my office,” said Charlene.

  Travis shook his head. “No ma’am. Not right now.”

  Madill collapsed onto the leather sofa. “Is it over? I think I was pushing it coming back to work today.”

  “You were, sir, and as soon as we’re clear in the outer office, I’ll take you home. It’s all over now.”

  “I thought I heard shots,” said Madill.

  “Un huh,” said Travis. “True enough.”

  Madill smiled. “I can’t thank you enough, Travis. You’ve been through an ordeal just like I have, and you did a stellar job.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  BLAINE MET Chief Calhoun in the lobby of the AG’s building, and they rode up in the elevator together.

  “Think that’s the end of it?”

  “Yep, done deal. She ran down the squad list, used up all of her recruits and decided to finish the job herself,” said Blaine. “The woman was driven by grief and revenge.”

  “She must have been persuasive too,” said the Chief, “getting that many people to commit felonies on her behalf. She would have made a dandy gang leader or a dictator.”

  “Travis say if Madill was okay?”

  “He’s lying on the sofa in his office.”

  “I’ll take his statement and send him home,” said Calhoun. “His office will be shut down for the rest of the day.”

  Blaine checked his watch. “What time is Hillby’s funeral?”

  “One thirty.”

  “We’ve got about an hour.”

  Luke and Fletcher met them at the door of the elevator. “Hey, boss. Lots of media people trying to get off on this floor. We’re sending them back to the lobby.”

  Blaine nodded. “Good job. I’ll say something scintillating on the way out and try to get rid of them.”

  Calhoun grinned.

  Two uniforms stood outside the AG’s office guarding the door. “Morning, Chief, Ranger Blackmore.”

  “Morning boys, everything under control?” asked the Chief.

  “All good, Chief. We sent everybody on this floor back to their own offices and told them to stay there.”

  Doctor Simon was zipping Leigh Kryssa into her body bag as they made their way through the crowd of techs in the outer office. Travis’ Sig was bagged and sitting on the corner of Charlene’s desk alongside a .38 Special.

  In the AG’s office, Madill was sitting in his desk chair drinking black coffee with Charlene and Travis. His face was ashen and the hand holding his coffee cup trembled slightly.

  The Chief pulled up a chair and took a small recorder out of his pocket. “Let’s get your statement down, Brad, then I’m sending you home.”

  “Should have been at home in the first place if I had any sense.”

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE showered and changed for Rainey Hillby’s funeral. An ex-cop murdered by the sniper had been top story on the news ever since it happened, and the media were squeezing every minute of news time they could get out of it. The turnout at the funeral today would be unprecedented.

  Lil said calls had been coming in hourly from national stations wanting interviews and updates on the Violent Crime Squad’s progress.

  The Chief is doing his best to hold off the fuckin feds.

  “We have made progress, dammit. We just haven’t caught him yet.”

  “Is Mary going to send something out?” asked Lil. “I made a list of everybody who’s waiting if she’s working on a release.”

  “Sure,” said Blaine. “Email the list to her and I’ll talk to her at the funeral. We’ll write up a statement for later today.”

  Lil smiled. “Thanks, boss. Now I’ve got something to say to them besides fuck off.”

  With ten minutes to spare, Blaine poured himself a mug of coffee and sat down in the window alcove to write something up for the paper. The black cat came on the screen before it rang, and he felt a pang of guilt.

  I should have called her.

  “Hey, I should have called, but we had a skirmish at Madill’s office and my morning was full.”

  “That’s okay, sweetie. Is Brad… okay?”

  “He’s fine and now we’re all finished with that threat. Travis drove him home. We’re clear.”

  “I was wondering about the funeral.”

  “You should go, Cat.”

  “I’m planning on going, but I was wondering about a short speech. Should I talk to the media?”

  “We’ll say something together after the funeral,” said Blaine. “I’m making notes for Mary and we can use some of the points.”

  “I can always count on you. Do you need a ride?”

  “Sure, pick me up. At least Roderick will be able to get a parking spot with the limo. I sure as hell won’t.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  Half-way House. Mueller Area. Austin.

  FARRELL dozed off for a couple of minutes and woke when his cell rang. “Hey, Quinn, I was just thinking about you.”

  “I’m on my break and I wanted to tell you again that I had fun at your brother’s party and thank you for taking me. Your whole family are fun people, and your mother is so nice. I thought I might have seen her picture someplace, but maybe I’m wrong.”

  “Possible. She’s been in Forbes I think.” Farrell kept his eyes on the house while he talked. Mr. Emmery came out the front door and started walking towards the corner.

  “Glad you had fun. Umm… I’ve gotta drive now. Can I call you back?”

  “Is something scary happening?”

  “Surveillance. I’m watching a man and he’s moving. I have to go.”

  “Your job is so exciting. Call me back and tell me what happened.”

  Farrell chuckled. “Okay. I’ll report back in a few.”

  Barclay and Lowe Funeral Home. Round Rock.

  SPECIAL AGENT RODERICK eased the long black limo flying the Lone Star flag as close to the front entrance of the funeral home as he could get. Uniformed security was in place to keep the media vans off the funeral home property, but the street out front was flooded with their vehicles. No street parking was available for any friends or family of the Hillby’s.

  Reporters and camera men paced back and forth on the sidewalk shooting footage of anything that might merit exposure on the six o’clock news.

  Agent Roderick
opened the back door of the limo and assisted Catherine as she emerged dressed entirely in black. A floppy black hat completed the look along with a pair of dark glasses.

  Blaine followed her out of the car, took her arm and propelled her towards the carved oaken doors at the top of the wide concrete steps. Huge iron planters overflowing with fall blooms stood sentinel at each side of the double-door entrance.

  As soon as the media spotted them, a roar of questions filled the air and Blaine ignored the outburst, keeping his back to the swarm on the sidewalk.

  Inside the chapel he looked for an empty pew. “Where do you want to sit, Cat?” he whispered as he escorted her down the left aisle.

  “Over there is fine. Doesn’t matter, as long as I’m here for the family.”

  After a lengthy service and testimonials from many retired officers and detectives who had worked the job with Detective Rainey Hillby, the congregation was invited to join Mrs. Hillby at her home for refreshments.

  Blaine escorted Catherine outside and down the steps to the waiting limo. “If y’all would be so kind as to let the Hillby family mourn their loss in private, Governor Campbell intends to say a few words in front of the Capitol,” said Blaine. “Thirty minutes.”

  Catherine got into the limo and once Blaine was seated beside her said, “That was a good idea to draw them away from the Hillby house.”

  “Yeah, I’m a Brainiac.”

  Mueller Area. Austin.

  FARRELL followed Norman Emmery for two blocks. The man stopped at a newspaper box on the corner, fished money out of his pocket and bought a paper. He glanced at the front page, then folded the paper, tucked it under his arm and turned to retrace his steps.

  Farrell flipped out his cell and called Jack. “Jack, the manager is two blocks away. Run into the yard and look under the porch if nobody’s looking.”

  “Yep, sending Ricky. He’s got better legs than me.”

  Jack can’t run. I forgot.

  After giving Emmery a minute’s head start, Farrell turned around and followed him back to the half-way house.