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After lunch, Marlin sat at his desk within the sheriff’s office and did some research.
Trevor Larkin was 27 years old and had been born in Sweetwater, Texas, about forty miles west of Abilene. There, he had compiled a minor criminal record for possession of marijuana and hunting from a public roadway—both more than five years earlier.
He’d never been married.
He’d moved to Blanco twenty months ago. He owned no property in the county.
He’d gotten a speeding ticket nine months earlier, but his driver’s license was current.
He had no warrants.
He had a valid hunting license for the current season.
Three years ago, a woman in Sweetwater had gotten a protective order against him. The order had remained in effect for one year, and it appeared Larkin had had no contact with the woman in that time.
Marlin checked social media and came up empty. Trevor Larkin had various accounts, but none of them were visible to the general public.
Larkin might’ve thought aiming a weapon at a law enforcement officer was no big deal, but in reality, it was a felony. The trick would be getting Larkin to admit he knew Marlin was a game warden. If he claimed he thought Marlin was a trespasser, and that he didn’t understand what Marlin had yelled at him, that would change the scenario. Marlin also had to remind himself that it might not have been Larkin out there on Meyer’s ranch.
When Marlin finished with his research, he called the Dairy Queen in Blanco and asked for Trevor.
“He’s not here,” said a young woman who identified herself as Caitlin.
“Oh, I thought he was scheduled,” Marlin said, winging it.
“He was, but we haven’t seen him.”
“What a slacker.”
“I know, right?”
“Has he called in?”
“Uh, I...who is this?”
“This is John. I’m supposed to meet up with him later.”
“You could try his cell,” Caitlin said, “but I called it myself earlier and he didn’t answer. Anyway, if you reach him, tell him he’s supposed to be at work, okay?”
She laughed and hung up.
Interesting.
The fact that Larkin was a no-show at work supported the theory that he’d been the poacher on Meyer’s ranch. He was afraid to show his face, because the cops would find him there. Or, another possibility—he’d been injured when he’d plowed the truck through the gate and he wasn’t capable of working. All speculation, of course.
Marlin set his phone down, but right then, he received a text from Lauren Gilchrist, so he picked it back up.
Lem isn’t done yet, but he just said our DOA was shot. One round in his neck that struck a carotid artery, then the spine. No exit. He says .380.
Which meant her case had just officially become a homicide.
He replied: Thanks. FYI, Bryce Cauley said Trevor Larkin is a nutcase, loner, the type who goes on a spree. Have no idea if that’s accurate. Will let you know my thoughts when I finally track him down. He didn’t show at work today.
Thx, Lauren replied. I’ll be thinking where I want to go for that lunch you’ll owe me.
“They said you are a ‘person of interest’ in the death of that man at your zoo,” Bob said, “and that you might be armed.”
Oh, Jesus. This was getting crazy.
“I don’t know what to do,” Albert said. “This is hopeless.”
He was feeling panicked. Overwhelmed. Scared. They were in Albert’s hotel room. Bob didn’t seem too worried about tending the front office. What if a customer needed him? He appeared totally relaxed, seated in the padded chair in the corner, near the little table that cheap motels always seemed to have.
Albert, meanwhile, was peeking out the window. The car, sitting right in front of the room, now felt like a giant flashing neon sign. Luckily it was a fairly common kind of car. On the other hand, on his drive from Blanco to Gallup, Albert hadn’t seen a single other Ford Fiesta the same color as this one. Why would the rental companies buy cars that garish?
“Nothing is hopeless until you give up hope,” Bob said.
Albert thought that sounded like some cheesy nonsense you’d read on a motivational poster.
“I hope you’re right,” Albert said.
They both stopped talking for a moment as a state trooper passed on the highway and disappeared from view. Albert couldn’t tell whether the officer inside had looked in this direction or not. Had he seen the rental car? Was he turning around right now? Albert held his breath for a moment and waited for the marked unit to reappear. Thirty seconds passed.
“First thing we need to do is get your car out of sight,” Bob said.
“I was just thinking about that. But what can I do with it?”
“We’ll move it around back,” Bob said. “It’s gated off back there. Nobody will see it.”
“Maybe I should ditch the car,” Albert said. “Get on a bus and go somewhere else.”
“Risky,” Bob said. “The other passengers might recognize you. They’ll be sitting for hours on a bus with nothing to do but look at the other people on the bus. But we can figure that out later. We need to hide the car now, then we need to come up with a plan. Or I can butt out.”
“No, please don’t,” Albert said.
Bob nodded.
“What kind of plan?” Albert asked.
“One step at a time,” Bob said.
“I have to ask,” Albert said. “Why are you so willing to help me?”
Bob seemed to contemplate the question for a long moment. “I’ve been there myself,” he finally said.
“Been where?”
“In your shoes. In a similar situation. Sometime soon I’ll tell you my story. It’s not as good as yours, but it ain’t bad. Give me the keys and I’ll move the car. Then I’ll make a phone call to a friend of mine.”
“How much do I owe you for the tacos?” Garrett asked Billy Don later. They’d been sitting around the dinette for a good while, just bullshitting. Mostly Billy Don was doing all the talking, while Red was contemplating everything he’d learned.
“Don’t worry about it,” Billy Don said.
“You sure?”
“It’s on me,” Billy Don said.
“I appreciate it,” Garrett said.
“You, on the other hand, owe me five bucks,” Billy Don said to Red.
“I’ll take it off your rent,” Red said.
“But I don’t pay rent.”
“Exactly.”
Garrett said, “Thanks for letting me stay here last night. And thanks for the work yesterday.”
“No problem,” Billy Don said. “Red wasn’t gonna stop the truck, but I insisted.”
“I don’t blame you,” Garrett said to Red. “But I’m glad you did. Anyway, guess I’ll be hitting the road later this morning.”
Red was surprised that he was somewhat sorry to hear this. How could he continue his investigation if Garrett was gone?
“No reason to rush off,” Billy Don said. “Unless you got somewhere you need to be.”
“Not really. Just don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
“We’d let you know if you did,” Billy Don said with a guffaw. “Ain’t that right, Red?”
Red grunted.
“We’d probably just toss you out the door,” Billy Don said. “Then you’d know for sure.”
“That’s usually a pretty good clue,” Garrett said, laughing.
“You ain’t there yet,” Billy Don said. “Stick around, if you want. Or not. Up to you.”
“I just might,” Garrett said. “Thanks. Hey, is it okay if I take a shower?”
“Ain’t my day to take one, so go right ahead,” Billy Don said.
“Okay, cool.”
“Towels are in the cabinet,” Billy Don said. “Might even find a clean one.”
Garrett rinsed his coffee cup, then left the kitchen and went down the hallway.
“Good kid,” Billy Don said.
Red didn’t say anything.
“Don’t you think?” Billy Don asked.
“Sure.”
“That stuff about his dad dying is pretty wild,” Billy Don said.
Red decided it was time to share some of his suspicions with Billy Don—in just a few minutes.
“Poor guy,” Billy Don said.
“Umm-hmm,” Red said.
“He’s been through a lot,” Billy Don said.
And Red finally heard the water running in the bathroom, which would prevent Garrett from hearing their conversation.
“Maybe so, but he can afford to pay five bucks for some breakfast tacos,” Red said.
“So what? I was just being nice.”
“In fact, he could probably afford to pay five thousand bucks for some tacos. Or fifty thousand.”
“What’re you babbling about?”
“Let me tell you something about your new friend Garrett,” Red said.