Good Day In Hell (3 page)

Laurel pulled her face into an exaggerated expression of disapproval and clucked her tongue. “People got no respect for the law these days.” She and Roy laughed. Then her face turned serious. “And he kept it at the station because he didn’t want your mama to know about it?”

Stan nodded.

“You didn’t tell your own mama?” Roy said. Laurel got that scary hard look again. “You know why, Roy,” she said. She looked back at Stan. “But you ain’t got to be afraid anymore,” she said.

Stan didn’t know what to say to that. The fact was, he was more afraid than he’d ever been in his life. He felt as if he had just taken a running leap out the door of an airplane without checking to see if he had a parachute. They drove for a while in silence. After a few miles, they took the off-ramp for U.S. 74. They headed east.

“Umm … where are we going?” Stan said.

“Back to my place,” Roy answered. “I was just up to Fayetteville to pick up a few, ah, supplies from someone I know. We’ll stop by my house and get the rest of what we need, then head out tomorrow night.” They took a side road.

“Head out where?” Stan asked.

“Turn this song up, Roy,” Laurel interrupted. “I like this one.” She didn’t wait, but reached over and turned the radio up full, drowning out Stan’s repeated question. The crunch of an electric guitar playing a chugging rhythm filled the car.

Move in, Can’t you see she wants you

She has you deep in her eyes

You been wond’rin’ why she haunts you,

Beauty in the devil’s disguise …

Roy slowed the Mustang down. They were approaching a dirt road that came out of a break in the trees lining the side of the road. Roy pulled in, the car bumping over the rutted track as they passed through the line of trees.

She can tell you all about it

She sees it in the stars

She’ll burn you if you try to put her down

Oh well it’s been a good day in Hell,

And tomorrow I’ll be glory bound…

There was a white van parked back in a clearing a couple of hundred feet off the hard road. Roy pulled the Mustang up beside it. Laurel started singing along with the Eagles:

In that big book of names I wanna go down in flames

Seein’s how I’m goin down

Oh well it’s been a good day in Hell,

And tomorrow I’ll be glory bound …

Roy killed the engine and the song died with it. “Come on, kid,” he said as he and Laurel got out. As Stan clambered out of the passenger side, he noticed the ignition lock broken off and dangling by its wires from the steering column. Roy patted the fender longingly. “Too bad,” he said. “I kinda like these.”

“We been over that, Roy,” Laurel said. “Too flashy to keep for long. This one’s gonna be on someone’s hot sheet by now.”

Roy sighed. “I know,” he said. “I’m just sayin’.” He opened the trunk. Stan looked inside. There were a number of long objects wrapped in blankets inside. Roy
pulled one of the blankets aside slightly to reveal the black metal of a rifle beneath. His smile was very white in the gloom. “Military issue,” he said. “Can’t hardly get ‘em, even on the street.”

Stan’s mouth was dry. “Then how—”

“I know a guy at Fort Bragg,” he said. “Funny thing. Once they put the inventory on the computer, it got real easy for a guy who wanted to make some extra dough to make stuff disappear.” He pulled a rifle out of one of the blankets, cocked it expertly and raised it to his shoulder. He scanned the trees, looking through the sights, before pulling the trigger. There was the solid click of a dry-fire.

“Bang,” Roy said softly. Laurel started singing softly to herself. “Tomorrow I’ll be glory booooouund …”

CHAPTER TWO

“He did what!?” Angela said.

They were in her tiny office at the rear of the storefront that housed H & H Bail Bonds. She looked at Sanchez, who sat in the chair in front of the desk, his leg propped up in the other chair. “Oscar, have you lost your mind?” Sanchez looked away in embarrassment.

“Take it easy,” Keller said. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his thumb hooked into the waistband of his jeans. “He did great.”

“You can’t just go coldcocking people,” Angela said. “Even if they are jumpers.”

“Well…” Keller said. “He, ah…he didn’t really have much choice.”

Angela sat down. “What aren’t you telling me?” She looked from Sanchez’s face to Keller’s. Neither would meet her eyes. Finally Sanchez sighed. “Manuel Olivera had a knife. He pulled it on me.”

“I see.” Her face was expressionless. She took a deep breath. “Oscar,” she said after a long moment. “Would you excuse us for a minute?”

Sanchez crossed his arms across his chest. “No,” he said. “I am not a child. This is about me. You do not send me out of the room to discuss it.”

Angela put her face in her hands. It was warm in the office and she had removed the gloves which she usually wore. The web of burn scars on the backs of her hands shone pale white in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the office.

“Okay then,” she said finally as she put her hands down. She looked at Keller. “There wasn’t supposed to be any violence.” Her face was calm, her voice controlled, but there was no mistaking the accusation.

Keller shrugged, holding his own temper in check. “There was nothing in his priors that said he’d go off like that. There wasn’t any way to know.”

“He panic,” Sanchez said. “Sorry…he panicked.” “Okay,” Angela said. Her voice cracked slightly on the second syllable. She cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said in a firmer voice. “What’s done is done. But Oscar, that’s the last time. You don’t go out on takedowns anymore.”

Sanchez stood up slowly. His face was dark with anger. “I decide that, Angela.” His accent had gotten thicker with his agitation and the name came out as An-he-la.

Angela stood up and put her hands on the desk. “This is my business, Oscar,” she said. “I decide who works for me and how.”

Sanchez gestured at Keller. “He puts himself in danger all the time,” he said. “And you care for him. I know you do.”

“That’s different,” Angela snapped. “He … it’s just different.”

“Si, I know,” Sanchez said. He hobbled to the door, wincing. Keller moved out of his way. “He is not a cripple,” Sanchez said as he walked out. After a few moments, they heard the bell on the front door jingle as he walked out into the street.

Angela sat back down and folded her arms in front of her on the desk. She put her head down on them. Keller sat down in the seat Sanchez had just vacated. He waited silently. Finally, Angela looked up. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” she said.

“Yeah,” Keller said.

She looked at him. “Keller, you think just once you could lie to make me feel better?”

“I doubt it. It wouldn’t work.”

“Damn it, Jack, he’s a schoolteacher. He’s not a bounty hunter.”

“He was a schoolteacher back in Colombia,” Keller said. “He’s been through a lot since then.”

Angela laughed sharply. “That’s an understatement.”

Then she sighed. “I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Sounds like you guys are getting pretty close.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“That’s good. He’s a good man.” Something in his voice made Angela look up.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing.” He stood up. “You need me to do anything else?”

She stood up as well. “Come on, Jack,” she said. “Don’t dodge. This is me you’re talking to.”

He shrugged. “There’s no point. We’ve both moved on.”

“Yeah,” she said. “We have. That doesn’t mean there’s no point in us talking.” She smiled sadly. “We’ve done this conversation, Jack. It never would have worked between the two of us. But you’re still my best friend.” She walked over and slipped her arm around his waist. He put an arm around her shoulder. He squeezed gently, mindful of the bum scars on her back and shoulders that still pained her. “I know,” he said.

She gave him a final squeeze and stepped away. For a moment it left an empty feeling at his side. “I’ll finish the paperwork on Olivera,” she said.

“You still want to split the fee with Oscar?”

“Yeah.”

“What split?”

Keller considered. “Fifty-fifty. I found the guy, he did the takedown. Plus, he needs the money.”

She smiled. “You’re a pretty good guy yourself, Keller.” She picked up a file off the counter and handed it to him. “I’ve got another one for you, anyway.”

He flipped the file open. At the top was a picture of a young blonde woman. It was not a flattering picture; mug shots rarely were. The woman’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot under an unruly thatch of short blonde hair. Her prominent jaw was thrust defiantly forward toward the camera. He pulled the picture out and set it aside.

“Laurel Marks,” Angela said. “Missed her court date two days ago.”

Keller found the release order, written on flimsy blue paper. He saw the amount of bail and whistled. “Seventy-five grand? What the hell’d she do?”

“ADW,” Angela said. “She was working as a waitress at the Omelet House on Market Street. Went for one of her co-workers with a carving knife one morning.”

“Not a morning person, I guess. Still, seventy-five K is a lot. She doesn’t have the kind of priors that would lead to that much bond.”

“Not as an adult. But I talked to the magistrate. She’s got a pretty bad juvie record. The magistrates know her by sight, and so did Judge Banning. The magistrate was trying to get a message across.”

“You’re playing in the big leagues now, kid,” Keller said.

“Right. And when she drew Judge Banning for her arraignment…” She grimaced. “I don’t think Banning’s reduced a bond since he went on the bench.”

Keller looked up. “What kind of record?” “Drugs, mostly. But some assaults. Little girl’s got a temper, it seems.”

“Kids don’t usually learn that kind of anger on their own,” Keller said. “Any Social Services involved?”

Angela nodded. “The magistrate said there was. He didn’t know any details.”

“Well, not likely that Social Services is going to give us anything. Any family in the area?”

“Both parents are local.”

“They the ones who put up the cash?”

Angela shook her head. “No. Some guy. Said he was a friend of hers.”

Keller arched an eyebrow. “Huh. Must’ve been some friend to put up ten percent of seventy-five grand.” He flipped the file open again and read the name on the bail bond application. “Roy Randle.”

“Yeah,” Angela said. “Older guy, maybe early forties.”

Keller frowned. “You think maybe he’s pimping her?”

“I doubt it,” Angela said. “Not many pimps would shell out seventy-five hundred to get a girl out of jail.”

“Unless he was trying to keep her quiet.” Keller’s frown deepened. “This one’s got a weird vibe to it.”

Angela nodded. She looked unhappy. “I know. But I’ll be straight with you, Jack. Things are kind of stretched right now. If I have to give up seventy-five thousand dollars …”

“I know,” said Keller. “I’ll find her.”

“But Jack, please be careful,” she said. “You’re right. This one feels weird.”

Keller looked back at the picture. He felt the beginnings of the hunter’s rush he always felt when he got a jumper, the steadily rising drumbeat of adrenaline in his veins that grew and grew as he got closer to the takedown. He almost didn’t hear Angela when she said, “So, you seeing Marie this weekend?”

He tore his eyes away. “We’re trying to get together, yeah. Still trying to iron out the details.”

“How’s she doing, anyway?”

Keller shook his head, then sighed. “I don’t know,” he said. “She says she doesn’t want to talk about what happened.”

“That’s not good, Jack. She killed a man.” She said the last sentence quietly, in a near-whisper, even though they were alone. “She’s got to deal with that.”

He shrugged. “She did what she had to do.”

“And the fact that it had to be done makes it easier, Jack?” Angela said. “You know better than that.”

“I know,” he said. His voice was tight with frustration. “But she won’t talk. And I don’t know what to do.”

Angela put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’m prying.”

“No,” he said. He sat down. “You’re right. I’m not mad at you. I’m just—” He threw his hands up. She stood behind the chair, rested her chin on top of his head, and hugged him from behind. “Poor Jack,” she said. “Still trying to save everybody.” They stayed like that for a moment before Angela sighed and pulled away. “Stay with it, Jack,” she said softly. “You two—” Her voice caught, then she steadied it. “You two are good for each other.” She looked out the front window toward the street.

“No regrets?” Keller said after a moment.

She laughed sadly. “Oh, plenty of those, Keller,” she said. “But nothing I can’t handle.”

There was a small crowd gathered at the front doorway of the service station as Marie pulled in. Cars were parked randomly around the concrete slab. Marie picked up the radio. “County, thirty-five is 10-23.”