Firebreak: A Mystery (33 page)

“Lou. I have to go.”

“Hang on! When Yvonne pulled out of the Hell-Bent at six o’clock, she followed Hank Wild down Highway 67, headed toward Artemis.”

“Son of a bitch.” Josie took a second to process the news. The information changed everything. “You’re the best. Call Marta and get her over to Hank Wild’s house. Don’t let him leave. Place him under arrest for withholding information if she has to.”

Josie hung up and tried to figure out the new information in relation to Brenda and her obvious relationship with Hank. Brenda hadn’t left the Hell-Bent to kill Ferris. Hank had. And he set Billy up to take the fall. That’s how Hank “knew” all the details.

Josie saw the flashing lights up ahead on the highway and was relieved to see Patty Netham’s car pulled off on the right side of the highway. As soon as Josie pulled up Susan got out of her car and they stood to the side of her police car. “I just got a bombshell. I don’t have time to explain. Call Otto and tell him to get back to Artemis. Tell him to call Lou for details and to watch Hank Wild. Don’t let Hank leave town.”

Josie approached the passenger side of the white Accord and knocked on the window. Brenda rolled the window down looking terrified.

Patty bent her head so that she could see Josie outside. “What is going on?”

“Brenda, I need you to follow me back to my car. I need to speak with you.”

Brenda looked paralyzed, as if she couldn’t figure out the next step.

Josie repeated, “I need you to step out of the car.”

Brenda glanced at her sister and then got out of the car without another word. She got into the passenger seat of Josie’s jeep and Josie got in the driver’s side and shut the door.

“Why didn’t you tell us about your relationship with Hank Wild?”

“What?”

Josie stared at her.

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”

Josie raised her eyebrows. “This is the man who Billy called the night he walked around drunk on the streets of Artemis. Hank gave your husband a baggie filled with pills that killed him. Hank provided the resources for your husband to commit suicide. And you’ve been sleeping with both men, and you didn’t think that was relevant to the investigation?”

She opened her mouth in shock. “I never slept with Hank. How dare you!”

“Your shoes are in his kitchen. Your pills are in his bathroom cabinet.”

“No! You’ve misunderstood! I stayed with Hank just two times, just when things got bad over Ferris. Both times were after I confronted Billy about Ferris and he refused to admit anything. I had to confide in someone. It was killing me. But Hank’s a friend. That’s it. There’s nothing between us except friendship!”

“Did you see Hank leave the Hell-Bent the day of the evacuation?”

Her face faltered. Josie wished a judge and a jury were privy to the question and response that cracked the iron resolve, the response that allowed the soft truth to finally be revealed. The momentary realization, one-half shock and one-half panic, in that order, was as reliable as any smoking gun; it just wasn’t admissible in court.

“What time did you see him leave?” Josie asked.

She shook her head, her eyes wide and innocent. “I didn’t see him leave.”

“I’ll help you then. He left at six o’clock and drove to your home where he killed Ferris Sinclair. He ended your—” The passenger-side door of the Accord parked in front of them opened. “What the hell,” Josie said, and opened her door. She motioned for Susan to watch Brenda.

“I need you back in the car, Patty.”

“I need to talk to my—”

“Back in the car. Now!” Josie pointed toward the car, her voice hard and loud.

Patty raised both hands in the air as if Josie were pointing a gun at her. She walked back to her car, and faced Josie once more before entering. Josie could see the agony in her expression. “I just want her to tell the truth. Tell her that’s what she promised me.”

Josie got back in the jeep and said nothing. Brenda had heard her sister’s pleas. Josie didn’t need to say a word.

Brenda folded her hands in her lap, sitting primly in her sensible khaki capri pants and blue polo shirt, her world completely destroyed: husband, home, and career all gone. She looked out the front window, her expression blank.

“Hank said he loved me. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve heard those words? I don’t ever remember Billy saying them. He’d sign a note, ‘Love Billy,’ but he couldn’t say it. He promised to love me in the marriage ceremony, but he never actually said the words. And, the irony is, I don’t love Hank. I didn’t want him to love me. He thought he was solving a problem, saving me by killing Ferris. Billy and I?” She looked at Josie, her expression earnest. “We didn’t know. Hank did this on his own. He called and told me this morning. He said you were asking questions about us. I just panicked. I couldn’t take one more blow. I told Patty and begged her to leave with me. She wanted me to come to you, to tell you what Hank had done, but I just couldn’t take one more drama.”

Brenda paused and stared out the window. Josie waited for her to finish.

“The craziest part of all of this?”

Josie said nothing and Brenda turned to face her.

“All of this was over love.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Hank Wild was arrested for first-degree murder later that afternoon. When Josie explained to him that Brenda had told the police everything, he stood up from his couch and said simply, “I’m ready.” Josie handcuffed him, read him his rights, and drove him to the Arroyo County Jail, where he was processed. He confessed to suffocating Ferris Sinclair, and to planting the syringe under the couch to make it look as if Ferris died from an overdose. The prosecutor stated that Billy Nix’s suicide would stand as the cause of death, and no charges would be filed in relation to his death.

Hank had offered nothing more in terms of why he had killed Ferris, but Josie thought the answer was clear. Billy had what Hank had wanted but couldn’t have. Hank destroyed his own life in the process of getting it. Sadly, the same thing had happened to Ferris, Billy, and Brenda. Josie wondered how many people ruined their lives in search of something unattainable: love, a career, a place to call home. Josie wanted a tidy family in the suburbs, but was it what she needed? It had certainly proven elusive enough, and perhaps for good reason.

At the jail, Josie talked with the prosecutor, who said no charges would be filed against Brenda at that point. She and Patty were free to go.

Josie followed Brenda and her sister out into the parking lot where Patty’s car was parked. Brenda pulled her sunglasses out of her purse and slipped them over her eyes. She turned to Josie and said that she and Patty were headed back to Nashville and that Billy’s body would be transported and buried in her family’s cemetery.

“I hope you’re able to find peace, Brenda. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal,” Josie said, wishing she had something more to offer than empty words.

“You know what hurts the most?” she said. “I was trying to save my marriage. When the fire came raging through the county, Billy and I talked about losing our home, losing our town, like everyone was doing at the time. When we left for Austin, Billy agreed to turn his phone off, to leave Ferris behind for the weekend. I wanted so much to make it work. I wanted us to get away from Ferris and from the gossips at the Hell-Bent who thrilled at the stories of Billy’s undoing. As much as people wanted to see him succeed, they also loved the idea of him failing.” Brenda’s face clouded up and she looked briefly at her sister, who was standing quietly, watching her. “When Billy found out about Ferris’s death, I could see in his eyes, he thought I had killed Ferris. As did you.” She considered Josie for a moment as if she were still trying to make sense of it all. “How could I be so completely misunderstood, when what I wanted was so simple?”

*   *   *

Josie got home from work at 5:45. She taped a note on the front of the door that said, “Use your code. I’ll be ready in a minute.” She took a quick shower, pulled her hair up in a ponytail, and dressed in jeans and a pale-yellow tank top. When she stepped from her bedroom at quarter after six she found Nick standing on her back porch laying a steak on the grill. In a pair of jeans and a Fender guitar T-shirt and loafers, he looked completely at ease. She opened the kitchen door and stepped outside into the early-evening heat.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said.

He pointed a pair of tongs at her before picking up the other steak off a plate. “Forgiven. But we need to talk.”

Josie stood beside him as he sprinkled seasoning on the steaks.

“Here’s the deal. I know how to cook meat. But the sides? If you want vegetables? That’s all you.”

“That’s what you wanted to talk about?”

“That’s it.”

She went inside, smiling, and found a can of baked beans and two potatoes to microwave. In half an hour they were eating at Josie’s kitchen table as if they’d been fixing dinner together for years, discussing work, hanging out like old friends.

On the darkest edges of her thoughts, she acknowledged that this was way too easy. Whenever life flowed along too easily, it typically signaled looming disaster. Josie had confided this feeling to Otto one day and he’d told her, “Most people view their glass as either half full or half empty. You view yours as broken.” He had hurt her feelings at the time, but she thought of his words often and tried to reframe her thinking. She reminded herself now—enjoy the moment.

*   *   *

After they ate and washed the dishes, Nick suggested a drive. “I want to show you something. Grab your hiking boots.”

They drove Nick’s SUV, a black armored vehicle with chrome, black leather, and an onboard GPS tracking system that would rival anything the military could devise. He headed south on River Road. Just five minutes from her house he pulled off onto the side of the road and pointed toward the Rio Grande. “Do you scout this area on a regular basis?”

“You mean search for signs of crossing?” she said.

He nodded. “I’ll show you.”

They locked up the SUV and took off walking through the sandy desert scrub toward the water. The temperature was still in the upper nineties, but with sundown, the heat’s edge had softened. Josie felt herself taking the role of student as she walked beside Nick, who obviously had a purpose for bringing her here. As chief of police, and a rather dominant partner in a relationship that had lasted several years, she did not find this a comfortable role to play.

Nick pointed toward the river. “You have one of the most influential cartels in Mexico right across the border from your home. You need to scout this area for signs on a regular basis.”

“Are you serious? We barely have the manpower to take regular calls. Then we have something like the Ferris Sinclair murder and we put everything else on hold. Right now I have two burglary calls I’ve barely responded to. I don’t have the time or manpower to prowl the river.”

They hiked a quarter mile and then walked down a ten-foot rocky slope that dropped off and led to a sandy bank and the river below it. Nick pointed to the left and Josie saw two kayaks across the river on the Mexican side that had been hidden from view. The sight made her instantly furious.

“Five minutes from your house, Josie.” He gestured behind them. “This place doesn’t make sense as a crossing. The mountainous terrain in this area would add days of dangerous travel to an illegal’s passage into Texas. Ten miles south of here they could cross with no detection, and a flat stretch would lead them north without the mountains. Drug smuggling makes even less sense. They would have checked out the area. They would have known a cop lived within a few miles of here.”

She nodded.

“If you plan on staying here, you need to keep a constant vigil. They’re watching you. Watch your back, or move elsewhere.”

She was a cop. She didn’t need a safety sermon. They stood for several minutes along the edge of the river, scanning the bank for prints, and she had to acknowledge Nick was right. Just a few short months after the terror subsided, she had let her guard down.

They walked along the bank in the direction of the kayaks across the river. On the U.S. side, they found an area along the bank where the Mexicans had obviously ported and climbed the ten-foot sand rise.

“I know this doesn’t go down easy for you, Josie. Taking advice. But it’s what I do. The Medranos are like a giant octopus with tentacles prying into every crack and crevice, looking to exploit, to make money, to increase their power. You are an impediment to them. An embarrassment. Not only have you effectively stopped their migration into West Texas,” he looked over at her, “but you’re a female. I’m not sure you understand the significance of that fact.”

Josie picked up a handful of stones and skimmed them out across the water, watching them zip across the brown surface before sinking to the bottom. “I’m still alive. He must not want me dead too bad.”

He turned his dark eyes on her. “It’s not so easy as that. You’re an anomaly to them. A curiosity. And I can’t quite figure out how you’ve accomplished that. And that worries me.”

Josie had never met the Bishop, the current leader of the Medrano cartel, but his brutal rule was notorious. They walked the bank for another two hundred feet and after finding nothing they hiked back to the kayaks.

Josie scanned the river for any sign of movement on either side. She bent down and pulled her Beretta from her ankle holster. She stood and took aim on the kayaks, then shot half a dozen holes in them, the gunshots loud in the still evening. The kayaks jerked with each bullet. She replaced her gun, secure in the knowledge that they were incapable of crossing the river for now. She hoped to send a clear message.
I too am watching.

*   *   *

Driving back to Josie’s they were both quiet. When they reached her house Nick parked and shut the engine off.

“Let’s not talk shop any more tonight. Come inside?” she asked.

When they walked back into Josie’s house they found Chester hadn’t moved from his place on the rug. She found a bone in the pantry and slipped it between his paws.