The Quest: Countdown to Armageddon: Book 6 (14 page)

-27-

     Frank Woodard was a legend in the Bexar County Sheriff’s Office. In his nine years as the chief homicide detective, he solved ninety four percent of his cases. It was a record that every other detective envied.

     And a record that likely would never be broken.

     When an old friend needed his skills, he stepped up to the task and came out of retirement. The old friend was the San Antonio Chief of Police, Mike Martinez.

     Frank’s only concern was the impact his going back to work would have on his wife Eva.

     But she was all for it.

     “Frank, you said all you wanted to do was hunt and fish when you retired. Well, you’ve done that. A lot. And you’ve dragged me along every time you’ve gone.

     “Don’t get me wrong, honey. I like to hunt and fish too. Actually, I like to do just about anything you like to do, just so I can be by your side.

     “But I’ve had enough. I’m tired of tossing the fish back and I’m tired of eating them.

     “I’m tired of shooting deer and rabbits, and then carting the meat for miles. Yes, it gives me a good feeling every time we donate the meat to an orphanage or church. But darn it, somebody else can do it for a while. We’ve done our share, and I’m tired of it.”

     “But Eva, I thought you were still having fun. I only continued doing it so long for you.”

     Eva looked him in the eye, not quite sure whether to believe him.

     “Seriously?”

     Frank stifled a laugh.

     “No. But I had you going for a minute, didn’t I?”

     “Frank, I’m serious. I want to stay home for a while and grow food like the other women on the block. I want to catch up on the gossip and find out who’s sleeping with who and whose baby is whose. I want to be one of the girls again.”

     “I thought all you women were liberated now. I thought you wanted to do anything a man could do.”

     “Well, duh… I’ve done that, Frank. I can already catch more fish than you can and shoot at least as well as you. I don’t have anything to prove. And by God, I am a woman. I deserve the right to have a girly side too.”

     “Want to know a secret?”

     “What, Frank?”

     “Hunting and fishing don’t mean as much to me as they once did. I was going out many times just to help you get your mind off of losing the kids.”

     “Good. Then you can take a break from it for a while. Not forever. Just take a hiatus. Help Mike solve his cases, and let that occupy your mind for now. It’ll do both of us some good.”

     “Yes. I just hope I haven’t lost my touch.”

-28-

     Frank’s first order of business was to find the only witness to John Castro’s shooting.

     He’d learned over the years that witnesses’ memories tend to fade over time. The longer he waited to find the witness and get a statement, the more likely key details would be fuzzy.

     And fuzzy details tended to result in killers sometimes getting acquitted.

     Frank never heard Luther’s radio transmission himself. But those who did were very consistent in describing it.

     An older black man with a very slight lisp.

     Should be easy to find.

     Or maybe not.

     But Frank was determined.

     Something else Frank had learned from his years as a detective: that people are creatures of habit.

     They tend to hang around the same places. Follow their own footsteps over and over again.

     Frank enlisted the help of a couple of rookie officers after swearing them to secrecy.

     “I have friends all over this department,” he lied. “If any of them come to me and tell me you’ve been discussing this investigation with anyone, you’re fired. Not just from this case, but from the department as well.”

     After he’d walked away one rookie looked at the other and asked, “Can he do that? Fire us from the department, I mean?”

     “I don’t know. But the rumors I’ve heard is that he’s the chief’s best friend. So I’d say it’s a good possibility.”

     “Yeah, I guess. We’d better keep our mouths shut.”

     Frank was already well known for thinking outside the box. He knew that in all probability, John’s assailant was someone he’d never met before. Or perhaps someone with an old score to settle.

     On the other hand, life on the streets of San Antonio was pretty easy these days.

     And getting easier every day.

     The United States Congress had already legalized looting for the sake of sustenance, as long as the looters hurt no one else in the process.

     And the mass suicides and deaths of ninety percent of the city’s citizens meant housing was available to anyone who wanted it.

     Nice housing.

     There was no need for anyone to take over a home by force.

     Frank scratched his head early into the investigation.

     He wondered, given the current climate in San Antonio, why it was necessary for anyone to gun down a police officer for no reason.

     Of course, he didn’t want to overthink the crime and assume there
had
to be a reason. Sometimes there just wasn’t.

     Perhaps the shooter was just having a bad day, and decided to take it out on a random cop.

     But then again, people who had a bad day and who took it out on an innocent bystander usually did so on impulse.

     This wasn’t an impulsive crime. Whoever shot John laid in wait for him. And therefore knew John’s habits.

     It could have been the work of an insane man. But most of the insane were dead now. Killed by others who refused to tolerate their behavior. And the ones who were left were well known by the SAPD.

     None of them fit the profile.

     Because thinking outside the box had solved many of his past cases, Frank Woodard went out of his way to do so.

     “I don’t want to go into this thinking it was a random act, or an act of revenge by someone John arrested at one time,” he told Chief Martinez.

     “I want to consider other possibilities, including one you won’t like.”

     “Such as?”

     “Such as maybe it was a personal thing. Not everyone on the force liked John. Some were jealous of him. He had the honor and reputation they craved but didn’t have. Maybe someone wanted to take his place.”

     Martinez had been stupefied.

     “Are you saying that maybe another of my officers did this?”

     “No. What I’m saying is that it’s a possibility. And I’m going to run it to ground, just like all the other possibilities, before I dismiss it. After all, that’s what you’re paying me for.”

     Martinez had smiled.

     “I’m not paying you. You’re doing this for free.”

     “Oh, yeah. I forgot. Well, you’d be paying me for it if you had any kind of conscience at all.”

     “Frank, just do me a favor, will you?”

     “Sure. What?”

     “Keep a lid on this. My guys are way overworked and underappreciated by the public. Morale is bad enough without them knowing that one of their own may have done this.”

     “You got it. Mum’s the word.”

     While Frank’s rookies had been canvassing the streets, asking everyone within five square miles whether they knew an older black man who spoke with a slight lisp, Frank was hanging around the scene of the crime.

     It was only a hunch, but he’d solved many previous cases the same way. And sure enough, on the Tuesday afternoon before Luther Brown was murdered, Frank saw him strolling down the street on his way to play dominos with his friends.

     “Excuse me, sir. Can I talk to you for a minute?”

     Luther, smelling a cop and not being comfortable, looked around. Then he said, “Yessir. I di’nt do it, whatever it is.”

     Frank detected a very slight lisp.

     The two sat in Frank’s car for half an hour, Luther spilling everything he knew. With no working tape recorder, Frank resorted to making notes by hand.

     In the event Luther couldn’t be found later for trial, Frank had him look over the detective’s notes to make sure they accurately depicted Luther’s words.

     Then he had Luther initial all four corners of each page of notes, and to sign the bottom of each page.

     Once done, Frank took the time to drive Luther to his friends’ house, with a stop along the way at Luther’s favorite liquor store.

     After dropping Luther off, Frank sat in his car and read one particular page of his notes over and over again.

     The words on the page sent shivers up his spine.

     Witness Brown: “I don’t know for sure where the shots came from, but it sounded like they came from the right, up there on that hill. There’s a road up there. You can’t see it from where I was, but I knowed there was a road ‘cause I seed that police car and that officer up there several times before.”

     Woodard: “What police car? What officer?”

     Witness Brown: “Don’t know his name. Young cracker. Maybe thirty, thirty five. Three, maybe four times before the shooting, I could see him up there, with his car parked, just standing there looking down.”

     Woodard: “Any idea what he was looking at?”

     Witness Brown: “Ain’t nothing down there to look at, ‘cept that flower field where the officer got shot.”

     Inside Frank’s body beat the true blue heart of a peace officer. That part of him hoped that the mystery officer who’d visited the hill several times was merely performing routine patrol and nothing more.

     But the detective inside of him, the part of him who always examined every possibility, would investigate the lead as hard as he’d investigate any other.

     And if an officer was involved, he’d fight just as hard to bring that officer to justice as he would for any other suspect.

     He wouldn’t like it much. But he’d do it.

-29-

     Frank himself had discovered Luther’s body, when he went up to the Palmer residence a few days later for some follow-up questions.

     Now he had a second crime to solve.

     And he knew in his heart he was only looking for one killer.

     He went to Chief Martinez with the sad news.

    “I was riding the fence before, Mike. I considered the possibility of an officer-involved shooting remote at best, but one I had to consider. I was looking for a reason to discount it so I could put it behind me and move on to other suspects.

     “But I’ve been watching that road since Castro was shot. I even went up there and ran fishing line across the road to see if there was any vehicle traffic. Not one vehicle has been up there since the shooting.

     “And the Brown murder. He trusted someone enough to let them into his house and then turn his back on them. He wouldn’t have done that to a random burglar or robber. And why would a random burglar or robber waste his time on an occupied house anyway? I counted eight other homes on that same street that are unoccupied and vacant. And they’re just as nice, with the same goodies, as Luther’s house.

     “I take it you’re not riding the fence anymore, Frank?”

     “Oh, I’m trying to. Actually, that’s not true. I’m trying my best to find something,
anything
, to discount my suspicions. To tell me I’m crazy, that I’m barking up the wrong tree. But right now I’m just not finding it.”

     Chief Martinez wrung his hands as he paced the floor of his office.

     “So, what do you think happened to Brown?”

     “I don’t think he’d have opened the door to a stranger. Unless he was ordered to, by someone with a badge.

     “I think he opened the door thinking he was in trouble with the law. Or maybe he was told the SAPD was investigating a crime in his neighborhood and wanted to interview him. Then I think he was put on the wall, only instead of slapping the cuffs on him our killer strangled him with the cord.

     “That’s what I think. And I hope like hell I’m wrong. Because it means our killer is one of our own.”

-30-

     Sara was up at first light and raring to go.

     Tom, on the other hand, was feeling his age.

     He tossed aside the thin blanket he covered himself with at night and said, “Oh, my aching back. You’ll have to put me on my horse.”

     “Ha! That’s from lifting up fourteen thousand kids onto Trigger’s back yesterday.”

     “Na-uh, little lady. Couldn’t have been more than twelve thousand, tops. Hey, do we have any of Scarlett’s fried chicken and biscuits left?”

     “Yep. Would you rather we have it for breakfast or for lunch?”

     “Breakfast. Is there enough for two of us?”

     “No, sir. There’s only enough for one. You’ll have to eat crow.”

     “Eat crow? Why?”

     “Because be honest, you thought that finding my mom would be a lot harder and take a lot longer.”

     Tom spoke slowly and chose his words carefully.

     “Sweetheart, I hate to put a damper on your mood. But we only have a lead. We haven’t found her yet.”

     “Wow, you’re about as optimistic as a pound of dirt.”

     “I’m sorry, sugar. I hope we find her in Castroville. I really do. And I don’t want to bring you down. I’m just afraid if you get your hopes up and she’s moved on, you’ll be crushed.”

     “So you’d rather crush my hopes now and get it over with?”

     “You know better than that.”

     “I know, Tom. I’m just teasing. And I understand that you just want to spare my disappointment if we don’t find her in Castroville. It’s just that… well, I’m the kind of person who needs a glimmer of hope to keep driving me on.

     “Without that glimmer of hope I’ll get discouraged and want to give up. I’ll think it’s a lost cause, and that we’ll never find her, and tell you we should just go home.”

     “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart. I’ll try to be a glass is half full kind of guy if you’ll try not to get your hopes up too high. Let’s ride into Castroville hoping for the best, but expecting something less than that. In my view, that’s the smartest way to go.”

     “Agreed. And for what it’s worth, I place a lot of value in your opinions.”

     Something about the tone in her voice told him he was being set up.

     “Really? Why is that?”

     “Because my mom taught me to respect my elders. She said the older they were, the more respect they deserved. So I respect you an
awful
lot.”

     “Oh, there you go again…”

     Sara giggled.

     “Oh, you know I’m kidding, you old grouch. What she actually said was older people have a life full of experiences and good advice to share with us, and that we should listen to their every word.”

     “Now that sounds better. Your mother is a very smart lady.”

     “Yes. And besides, you know I love you. You’ve been more of a father to me than either my real dad or my step-father. That’s why I value everything you say.”

     “Thank you, sugar.”

     “Now then. Do you want your fried chicken cold or heated up?”

     “I thought there was only enough for one.”

     “I lied. There’s plenty left for both of us. She loaded us down with enough food to get us to Castroville without stopping to forage.”

     “Well, good. That’ll help speed us up a little. And my back aches too much to gather wood and build a campfire. I’ll have mine cold.”

     “Or, you can snooze for a few more minutes and I’ll gather the wood and build the fire.”

     Tom smiled, then pulled the blanket back over his body.

     “That’s an absolutely brilliant idea, little lady. You’re pretty wise yourself.”

     “Uh, huh…”

-31-

     Frank Woodard’s investigation was growing colder by the day. Part of it was his own fault. He knew that. But it didn’t lower his frustration level any.

     He was in Chief Martinez’ office on a bright and sunny Wednesday afternoon, giving his usual daily update.

     “I’ve exhausted all the leads I had, Mike. I spoke to Mrs. Castro, and asked her for a list of officers who’d had run-ins with her husband in the past. The list was surprisingly short. Mostly officers with attitudes who resented John Castro for what he represented.”

     “What do you mean, what he represented?”

     “Well, your name came up a couple of times. A couple of the officers said you considered John Castro a ‘golden boy’ who could do no wrong. That you showered him with all the best assignments and touted his accomplishments to anyone who would listen. They said you were not unlike a teacher and he was not unlike your pet.”

     “Well, that’s unadulterated bullshit. John means a lot to me. He’s like the son I never had. That much is true. But as far as him being coddled or pampered? Nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, I drove John harder than the others because I knew what he was capable of, and knew he could handle it. I held him to incredibly high standards that I expected of no one else. If that’s what they consider coddling or pampering, then they should wear his shoes for a few days. They wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

     Frank laughed out loud.

     “Sounds like I touched a raw nerve.”

     “Maybe. But what I’m telling you is true. There’s no other officer on this force or any other I’ve seen that could match John Castro’s accomplishments. If I treat him well and tout his accomplishments, it’s because I have the utmost respect for him. If I reward him with a good assignment, or brag on him a little, that’s because he deserves it. And that’s the only reason.”

     “I know.”

     “When he first came to me and asked me to pull some strings to get him into the academy, I thought he didn’t have a chance. The department had never had an amputee before. At least not one who joined the force as a rookie. In fact, it was even prohibited by one of our regulations. I had to personally approve a waiver just to let him try out for the academy.

     “And when he aced the entrance exam and ran circles around the other recruits, I was shocked. They made him a squad leader after his second day when it became apparent that the other recruits respected him enough to follow his lead.

     “After a week the recruits voted him class leader. It was unanimous. Well, almost. The forty seven other recruits all voted for John. The forty eighth vote was John’s. He voted for someone else because he couldn’t bring himself to vote for himself.

     “What worried me the most after that was the obstacle course.

     “The obstacle course was scheduled for two weeks before graduation. By regulation, it had to be passed or the recruit would be washed out. It made no special provisions for a disabled man, because we’d never had one go through the academy before.

     “And all my lieutenants were warning me. They said that I already gave him a concession when I let him apply for the academy. Everybody understood the fairness of that action.

     “But if he was unable to complete the obstacle course, they said I would have to let him fail. That to give him a second ‘freebie’ would be too much for the other officers to accept. That they would be leery of trusting an officer to have their back if he couldn’t step up when the going got rough.”

     The chief suddenly stopped talking, and he looked Frank Woodard in the eye.

     “This is my favorite John Castro story. It just occurred to me that I may have already told you this. Have I?”

     Frank laughed.

     “No. if you had I’d have told you to shut up a long time ago. Remember, we’re good friends as well as brothers in blue. And I’m here of my own accord. I don’t have to kiss your ass and listen to your boring stories like your line officers do. So go ahead and finish. It sounds like it’s going to get interesting.”

     “So as I was saying, I was really worried that this one-legged recruit, this man who was adored by his instructors and classmates alike for his hard work and selflessness, wouldn’t be able to finish the obstacle course and would fail the class.

     “The day they ran the course I cancelled all my appointments. I sat in my office and stewed, and bit my secretary’s head off every time she stepped in to ask me something. I was really on edge.

     “I’d told the academy’s commandant to call me on my cell phone the minute John either finished the course, or failed to complete it.

     “Then I sat at my desk and watched the clock.

     “An hour later the commandant called. He said ‘Holy crapola, Chief. Not only did he finish the course. He knocked twenty seconds off the old record.’

     “The old record, mind you, had stood since 1948.

     “And not only did he break the old record, he finished the course and then ran back, to the very last two men still on the course. They were struggling and probably would have given up, were it not for John going through the last half of the course a
second time
, encouraging them every step of the way. He was yelling at them not to let a one-legged man do something they couldn’t do, because they’d never live it down and they’d never forgive themselves.

     “Then he told them if they finished he’d buy them beer for life. Luckily, neither of the men took him up on that. But they did finish the course. And John praised them even as everyone else was praising him.”

     Martinez stopped again when he noticed Frank grinning.

     “What? You look like a possum eating poop.”

     “I lied, Mike. I’ve heard you tell this story at least half a dozen times before. But it’s a great story. It’s one I don’t mind hearing again and again.”

     “Yeah, well, okay. Enough about John Castro and the academy. Go ahead and finish your rundown.”