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“Red!”
That was followed a few seconds later by several thumps on Red’s flimsy bedroom door.
“Red!”
“Uuuhhhh?” Red said, his face half-buried in a pillow. He opened one eye and saw that the clock on his nightstand read 4:14. He figured that was in the morning, not the afternoon, but he couldn’t make any promises without looking out the window.
“They caught him!” Billy Don said.
“Go away,” Red said, but it was kind of muffled.
“What the hell?” Mandy muttered, waking up next to him.
“They got Garrett!” Billy Don said. “Marlin caught him last night.”
“I don’t care,” Red said. “Go away.”
“Can I come in?”
“No,” Red said.
“I’ll kick your ass if you do,” Mandy said.
“Oh, I forgot you was in there,” Billy Don said. Then he giggled. “You nekkid?”
“Go away!” Red and Mandy said in unison.
But she was naked. She slept that way most of the time, unless it was real cold, and that’s the way Red liked it.
“They shot the guy that took that girl from the Dairy Queen,” Billy Don said. “That’s what everybody’s saying. Marlin shot him.”
Okay, that was reasonably interesting news, and it raised some questions.
“He dead?” Red asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Billy Don said.
“Why’d he take that girl?”
“Nobody knows that either.”
“Y’all shut up,” Mandy said. “Talk in the morning.”
“It is the morning,” Billy Don said.
“Where are you getting all this?” Red asked.
Mandy groaned, which meant Why are you egging him on?
“Facebook,” Billy Don said.
“Pffftt,” Red said. If it was on Facebook, it was probably all bullshit.
“Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Billy Don said, and then Red felt the trailer vibrate as Billy Don retreated down the hallway.
Now Red was wide awake. That was the bad news. The good news was, he had a hot naked lady in bed with him.
“Can’t believe he woke us up for that,” Red said, to see if Mandy was going back to sleep or not.
She didn’t say anything.
“Pain in the ass, huh?” Red said.
Mandy was breathing slowly and deeply.
Red casually reached over and placed a palm flat on her warm stomach. Rubbed it a little bit. Played with her bellybutton.
She still didn’t say anything.
He slowly moved his hand upward and cupped her left boob.
“Go away,” Mandy said.
Albert couldn’t sleep for the rest of the night, of course, so as it got closer to dawn, he found himself peeking out the window every ten minutes, hoping to see Bob’s truck parked outside the front office.
Finally, at 7:15, there it was. Albert hustled over there and walked inside, to find Bob seated behind the counter, reading a newspaper.
“Any chance we can speed ’em up?” Albert asked. “The documents, I mean. From your friend.”
“He said it would take—”
“Can he have them ready by tomorrow?”
“I don’t think that’s—”
“I’ll pay twice as much. Another thousand bucks.”
Bob raised his hands in a calming gesture. “I’ll talk to him, okay? That’s all I can do.”
“Thank you,” Albert said.
“What’s the rush? What happened?”
“I’m leaving town. Tomorrow. Noon at the latest.”
“What happened?”
Albert could feel his face break into a smile. “I talked to her. Sylvia. We messaged.”
“When was this?”
“Early this morning. We had to be very careful what we said. But we’re going to meet up.”
“Where?” Bob asked. “No, don’t tell me. If I don’t know, I won’t have to lie about it later.”
Albert estimated that the drive from Gallup to the crossroads in the Texas Panhandle was about eight hours. A straight shot on Interstate 40 most of the way. But maybe he should take back roads. Figure twelve hours, or maybe even more, just to be safe. Factor in a flat tire or a dead battery or whatever else might slow him down on the most important drive of his life. Today was Friday morning. He was supposed to be there on Sunday at noon. He should leave as early as possible tomorrow.
“How did you message her?” Bob asked.
“On Facebook,” Albert said.
Now Bob got a funny expression on his face.
“What?” Albert asked.
“What if it wasn’t her?”
“What?”
“What if the cops have control of her account? What if it’s a trap?”
That possibility hit Albert hard. He took a few steps backward and sat in a chair next to a rack for sightseeing brochures. Thought about it for a long moment.
“No,” he said. “She said things the cops couldn’t know. She wouldn’t tell them.”
“A lot can change in nineteen years,” Bob said.
Albert remained quiet for a long moment.
“What’re you gonna do?” Bob asked.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I’m going anyway,” Albert said. “No question. The message was from her. I’ll leave tomorrow, with or without the documents.”
Marlin and Lauren Gilchrist sat quietly in a small room and waited. A small monitor rested on a table in front of them. It was nearly eleven o’clock. The tremble in Marlin’s hands had gone away.
He and Lauren and Bobby Garza had remained at the scene until dawn, and each had given a full statement to Brad Anderson, a Texas Ranger out of Llano who would now be investigating the shooting.
Then Marlin had gone home and slept for a couple of hours, but it was fitful sleep, punctuated by bad dreams that startled him awake several times. During one of those waking moments, he’d found Nicole standing in the bedroom doorway, watching him, with a concerned expression on her face. Then she’d come into the room and lay quietly with him on the bed, wrapping her arms around him tight.
Now this.
Bobby Garza was in the interview room next door, and Caitlin McGregor and her parents would be joining him shortly. Garza would interview Caitlin and get her full account of the abduction. Marlin and Lauren would be able to watch it on the monitor.
Marlin and Lauren were both on restricted duty after the shooting of Trevor Larkin—standard procedure—but that didn’t preclude them from watching the interview.
Marlin had seen Caitlin briefly after the shooting and she was amazingly composed. Bobby Garza was preparing to take her to the office to get a full statement, but her parents had arrived and insisted on taking her home, at least until the morning. Marlin couldn’t blame them for that. Give her some time to recover. They’d agreed to bring her in at 11:00.
Nicole, in her role as victim services coordinator, had visited the McGregor home in the morning to help them understand Caitlin’s rights and what to expect in the weeks and months to come, should any of these events lead to a trial. Nicole had offered to accompany them home last night, but the McGregors had declined.
It was now 11:12. He hoped Caitlin’s parents hadn’t changed their minds about allowing her to give a statement.
Lauren, reading something on her phone, said, “We just got an ID on our victim at the zoo. Joseph Barella from Framingham, Massachusetts. Just as we guessed, he’s part of Anthony Carducci’s crew. No record at all, though. Never been busted. Never even a suspect in any specific case. He was a low-level guy.”
Carducci had almost certainly sent Barella down to kill Albert Cortez, but unless Carducci had been very sloppy, he would likely be able to successfully deny any involvement. Marlin would bet that there were no emails, no texts, and no calls between Carducci and Barella. No record of any meeting. No witnesses who could or would testify about the attempted hit. Even if, say, Barella had told somebody that Carducci had asked him to kill Albert, that wouldn’t be enough.
Had Albert killed Barella in self-defense? They might never know the answer to that question.
Marlin couldn’t help feeling sorry for Albert. A fugitive for nearly twenty years, and now he was on the run again. He’d had to abandon everything he’d built here and start over. A man like Carducci would never let him rest.
“There they are,” Lauren said, nodding toward the monitor.
In walked the McGregor family. Garza thanked them for coming, and they all sat around a small wooden table.
“She looks good,” Lauren said.
She did, too. Strong young woman.
She proceeded to answer Garza’s questions with confidence and no sign of trauma whatsoever. She recounted exactly what happened, starting when Trevor Larkin walked into the Dairy Queen, and up to the moment Garza entered the house.
Larkin had never laid a hand on her, and she said that if he’d tried, she would’ve been prepared to rip his eyes out. At one point, she’d gotten cold, and when she looked for a sweater in the bedroom closet, she found a shotgun leaning in the corner. She knew it might not be loaded, but eventually she decided it was a risk worth taking. She grabbed it and shot at him as he scrambled out of the room. Didn’t know if she’d hit him or not.
Trevor talked to her from within house, and later tried to trick her into thinking he’d left. Then she fell asleep, and when she woke, she called out to him—trying to engage him in conversation, so she’d know where he was. That’s what Garza had heard through the window. Not long after that, she heard two shots from the direction of the garage. Then Sheriff Garza came into the house and she knew she was finally safe. She was so relieved and happy. Then she heard more shots, and a few seconds later, somebody said something to Garza through his earpiece, and Caitlin knew it was finally over.
Garza asked some questions, but not many, because Caitlin had done such a good job covering everything in detail.
Then Caitlin said, “I need to tell you what Trevor told me right before I got the shotgun. I have no idea if it’s true or not.”
“What is it?” Garza asked.
Then the story took a turn nobody had seen coming.