Borderland (18 page)

Gil
grumbled but didn’t argue. When Jinx took on a fit no one argued. Know-it-all
or not, they needed him. He knew how to keep things running.

Ed
sighed with regret at this silent admission and looked around to find he was
passing a large shopping center. That would do. He would park, maybe doze a
little bit, and wait until dusk to start work.

She was
tall even without her heels. Maybe too tall for him, Ed thought. He was parked
in front of what looked to be the most expensive place in the mall. He didn't
know it from looking at the displays in the windows; he knew it by the cars
parked in this particular section of the lot.

Damn,
she was tall. He wouldn't be able to handle her if she fought. But the stores
in the mall were closing and his choices were dwindling. She would have to do,
he decided as she strolled past his car. She had all the essentials: a bulging
purse, plenty of jewelry, and she was heading toward a white Mercedes. It wasn't
as dark outside as he would've liked, but it was getting darker every minute.
He had to act fast; she was opening the car door.

He
opened his. "Uh, ma'am?"

She
turned all grace and regality. Her eyes narrowed then returned to normal when
she saw him: an old man. "Yes?" she said.

"I'm
awful sorry to bother you, but, uh, well, I was wonderin' if you might be able
to help me. It's kind of embarrassin', really."

She
lifted one dark eyebrow. "Car trouble?"

"No,
uh, not exactly. See, my wife is still in there somewhere…" He pointed to
the mall. "And I been sittin' out here waitin' on her. While I was
waitin', silly old fool that I am, I decided to get out and check the spare in
my trunk— we're from out of town, see—and I dropped my damn keys in there. I'm
farsighted, ma'am, and just this side of blind when it comes dark and I ain't
got my glasses. My wife raised hell with me for forgettin' the fool things in
the first place and she's just gonna love this—me with no flashlight, no
glasses, and no keys. You think you could find my keys for me?"

The
woman smiled and closed her car door. Ed looked as grateful as he could while
she approached. He walked around to the trunk and showed her that it was open
just a crack. She smiled again and stood back as he lifted the lid. "I
think I dropped 'em around the spare somewhere. Ain't sure the fool things
didn't slide under somethin'."

The
woman leaned over the trunk and looked inside. Ed could tell she was relieved
that it was clean. No grease or oil rags, just a large plastic sheet and a
spare tire.

"Where
are your suitcases?" she asked.

"In
the back seat, ma'am. Wife is always thinkin' of somethin' she wants out of
'em. You now how it is. A lipstick or a nail file or a paperback she packed. I
got tired of stoppin' and gettin' in the trunk, so I just threw 'em in the
back."

"That's
an idea," the woman said politely. She leaned in farther, and Ed put a
hand in the jacket pocket of his lightweight summer suit. A syringe for the
women and a syringe then a blade for the men. On his last trip Ed slit his
prey's throat and went about his business. When he stopped to dump the body,
the man, not dead, had leaped out of the trunk and started running. He hadn't
gotten far. A cattle truck ran over him and never even stopped. Ed had gone
home and along with the others had himself a good hysterical laugh over the
close call. Leave it to Jinx to construe the incident as poor workmanship on
Ed's part.

"Up
there," he said, squinting and pointing as he spoke to the woman. "Up
by the spare there. Is that something shiny?"

Thank
God for the big trunks of Pontiac Bonneville’s. Room for two or even three if
necessary, providing the third was a small one.

When the
upper two thirds of the woman's body were over the trunk, Ed looked around the
lighted lot. Seeing no one, he jabbed the needle into her firm, shapely
backside. Her head immediately came up, bumped on the trunk lid, and in the
dimness Ed caught a glimpse of outrage mingled with fear in her face before she
sagged and slumped over.

"Powerful
stuff," Ed said to himself as he scooped her legs up and shoved the rest
of her inside the trunk. The homemade solution in the syringe never failed to
amaze him. He didn't know what it was—though he asked a dozen times he could
never seem to remember what all Doc Stade said—but it worked, as Jinx would
say, fantastically good.

He
hummed as he slid the purse from her arm. He was still humming as he slammed
the trunk lid and went to sit behind the wheel. He had seen her slip her keys
in the front pocket of the purse before coming to help him. He took them out,
removed gloves and a flashlight from his glove compartment then left the
Pontiac for a quick search of her car. Disappointed at finding nothing of
value, he returned to the Pontiac and went through her purse.

Drugs.
The lady had one of those little plastic packets full of white stuff tucked
inside a compact.

Shame on
you, Ed thought as he pocketed the cocaine. How much did they have now? Jinx
said he guessed they had about a kilo, whatever that was. Ed just knew they had
a lot, with no way of knowing how to unload the stuff. He supposed that's how
they were going to use Vic Kimmler. If Kimmler cooperated.

Her
wallet contained a dozen credit cards, but less than eighty dollars in cash.
Damn. The livewire he caught last time had been carrying over three hundred.
Credit cards were a pain the kazoo.

Oh well,
he thought as he closed the purse, the jewelry would be worth plenty. And that
reminded him of his next stop. He had time to make it to at least one pawnshop
before closing and get rid of the cheaper stuff Fred Bauer had come up with on
his last Denver run. In the morning he would take the more expensive pieces to
a jeweler and give the old medical-bills-forced-sale story. The gold jewelry on
the lady in the back would go to Denver, Kansas City, Oklahoma City, the hated
Tulsa, or maybe even Amarillo. Jinx decided who took what where.

And as
for the lady in the back herself, well, he'd held off bringing one back with
him as long as he dared and this one was a keeper if ever Ed had seen one.

"Darn,"
he said aloud after checking his watch. He'd better get moving. He wanted to be
in a motel and get at least four or five hours sleep before it was time to
start back. Damned if farming wasn't a hard life. Ed didn't think anybody
understood just how truly hard it was to make a living from the land. True, he
had his little barber shop on the side, and the others had their businesses,
but it was like pin money and didn't amount to much. Basic costs rose with the
national inflation, but there was no personal profit-making allowed on the
essentials. Kent Vogel was the only real exception. In addition to staple foods
and the post office, his store had nonessential items like tutti-frutti yogurt
and movies to rent. Jinx let him charge what he liked for that useless crap,
though he never charged as much as he could. Tom Hamm didn't make any money
selling gas, but he could charge you if you didn't feel like changing your own
oil. The folks in Denke were only charged for services or products that weren't
a basic necessity. The town paid for everything else with crop profits.

But the
last decade had been tough. So much so that some of the younger men weren't
even interested in farming anymore, all except Len. His boy Len loved the land.
And Ed loved him. So far he had resisted Jinx's attempts to initiate Len into
their supplemental income business. And most of the others with sons had too.
Ed believed that each of them, in their hearts, wanted to spare their children.
Like Darwin Kimmler, some of the others had let their sons slip away to other
places without argument. Fred Bauer's boy had gone off to Washburn University;
Tom Hamm's boy was living in New Mexico and painting pictures for art shows.

Jinx
spit, spewed, and snorted like a mad bull, but he couldn't make anyone keep
their boys in Denke. Most of them, except for maybe the Nenndorf’s, lied to
their wives and children about where the extra money came from. Ed did.

It was
tradition to maintain the lie—at least until it was time to initiate the oldest
son.

But now,
well now it was like Ed and the rest of the boys were the last of the old
guard, the old way of life. Sure, it was the way they had all been taught, and
all their daddies before them, but times were indeed changing. They were all
getting old, and even the thrill generated by the hunt had lost its excitement.
Ed thought prime-time television was more stimulating.

Internet
was probably responsible for a good deal of the changing. Jinx fought to keep
it out of Denke for the longest time—said it would ruin their culture—but he
wasn't the president or anything so people bought computers anyway.

Ed's
wife loved Huffington Post.

Ed liked
to watch the news, and from watching it he had come to hold the belief that the
Denke way of doing things would die off with the childless Jinx Lahr. Jinx
evidently felt the same and was already trying to avoid it by suggesting they
recruit young Vic Kimmler. If no one else was going to bring young blood in
then Jinx would do it himself. It was his Schwarzness showing, Ed told himself.
The madness in Jinx’s blood was taking over with age. And how much longer would
he last, five, maybe ten years? It was too long any way Ed looked at it. Jinx
was a healthy man, healthier than Ed.

But that
was a ray of hope in itself. With any luck, Ed thought, he'd be dead before
Jinx could create the next generation of hunters. All he had to do was make
sure Len was safely away before he went. Safely away from Denke, from Jinx Lahr
and blissfully ignorant of his father's sins.

CHAPTER 15

"Is
everything okay, Christa?" Myra asked as she took the still damp clothes
from the clothesline and dropped them into the basket Christa held.

Christa looked
up at the darkening sky and felt a raindrop plop onto her forehead. "I
guess."

"That's
not really an answer, is it?"

"I
guess not. Daddy's been gone a long time now, hasn't he?"

"Just
two hours," Myra said. "He'll be back soon. Are you getting hungry
yet?"

"Not
really. What are we having?"

"Fish.
I went out to the pond last night and managed to catch a few white bass. Cal
cleaned them this morning."

"A
pond?" Christa said. "Can me and Andy go there?"

"It's
too far from the house, Christa. And it's not for swimming or playing. I've
seen snakes there."

"How
come you went at night?"

"It's
cooler. And sometimes the fish bite more at night."

"Did
you go by yourself?"

"Yes."

Christa
frowned. "Weren't you scared?"

"Yes,"
Myra admitted. "But I didn't want to wake Cal. He's been working very hard
on the cars. It seems Nolan likes to teach rather than do."

"He's
letting his hands get better," Christa said.

Myra
looked at her, slightly annoyed. Then she sighed. "You're right. I'm being
unfair, aren't I?"

Christa
gave a little shrug. "He's a real meanie sometimes. I think Uncle Nolan
likes to tease girls."

Myra
smirked. "No kidding," She glanced up. "Let's get this stuff
inside. The heavens are going to open any second now. Is Andy still in the
garage?"

"Uh-huh."
Christa relinquished the basket. "I'll go get her. She's probably still
bugging them to fix her Barbie car."

The
moment she stepped away, Christa saw her daddy come around the side of the house.
When he left he had been in a bad mood, but now he was smiling a big smile. She
rushed over to him and was swept up from the ground. He hugged her and handed
her a Baby Ruth candy bar and a package of cherry Kool-Aid. Christa clutched
the candy bar and looked at him with delight. "Did you get one for Andy
too?" She didn't want to share hers.

"Sure
did." He put her down and took another candy bar from his pocket.
"Make sure you give it to her."

"I
will," Christa promised, and she watched in amazement as her father walked
over to Myra and picked her up from the ground in a big hug. Myra squealed out
her surprise and Andy came running from the garage, followed by Cal and a
deeply frowning Uncle Nolan.

"Guess
what?" Vic said to Myra.

She
wriggled a little. "I don't have to. It must be good news."

"It
is." He kissed Myra on the cheek before putting her down. "I've just
had an offer that sounds too good to refuse. The boys in town want to lease my
land for farming, buy the hay in the barn at a buck and a quarter a bale, and
they want to board a few horses here. But that's not the best part. They also
want me to become the new town law official. The pay is token, nothing great,
but with the money from the lease and the boarding, we'll be able to stay here
and live comfortably. Ed Kisner was out of town, but they assured me that he's
been ready to retire from his position for some time now. And they all agreed
that it would be nice to have someone with some law enforcement experience for
a change. Is that great, or what?"