The Ying on Triad (18 page)

Out on Farm Road 301 far away from the lights of
Marble Falls, the stars filled the night with a bluish glow.
Beginning at mile four, we slowed at each mailbox until
we found Landreth's. Lined by scrub oaks, the drive
curved between two small hills within a hundred yards of
the fence. I stayed on the farm road.

Janice frowned, "Why didn't you stop?"

"In case someone was watching"

Her eyes widened. "'Watching!' Who would be watching?"

"Anyone," I muttered as we rounded a curve and pulled
up behind a small rise. I flipped off the headlights, turned
the pickup around and parked on the shoulder of the road.

"Anyone? Sounds paranoid to me," she replied, teasing.

I squinted into the night. "The more schizo-paranoid
you are in this business, sweetheart, the longer you'll
live," I said in my best Humphrey Bogart imitation as I
opened the door. "I'm going to cut across the pasture to
the drive. You wait"

"But, what about you? How will I know if you're all
right?"

"Don't worry about me. Just you stay put"

"Tony please," her tone pleaded with me.

I wished I had insisted she stay at home. I had work to
do, and I didn't need any distractions. But she was there.
"All right. You have your cell phone?"

"Yes," she patted her purse, "in here"

"I'll keep you posted. But whatever you do, Janice,
don't call me. Okay?"

"Okay"

With the tap-defeat bug in my pocket and a small
flashlight in my hand, I hurried across the pasture of wiry
grass and rock to Landreth's drive, then scurried through
the shadows of the scrub oaks along the asphalt road.
Just beyond the two hills lay the ranch, with a main
house and several outbuildings. The windows were dark
and ominous. I knelt behind an oak and warily studied
the buildings.

The crime scene ribbon fluttered briefly in a light
breeze. I crouched and crept forward, pausing every few
seconds. From the hill behind me, I heard a night bird
call, and beyond the dark silhouette of the main house, an
owl hooted.

When I reached the small hedge around the lawn I
paused, straining for any telling sound. I heard nothing
out of the ordinary. On the balls of my feet, I hurried to
the front door and pressed back into the shadow of the
porch.

My heart thudded in my chest. I waited, listening.

Nothing.

Slowly, I turned the knob. The door opened. I paused
once again, peering into the complete blackness of the
room. The house had a musty smell with a trace of stale
cigarette smoke.

In one quick move, I slipped inside and pressed up against the wall by the doorjamb. After a moment, I
flipped on my small flashlight, keeping the beam on the
floor to prevent any glow being seen through the windows
from outside.

I didn't know what kind of tap might have been used.
If there was a single line into the house, any phone jack
would reveal the tap. But if there were multiple lines, I
might have to check every phone in the house, a timeconsuming job, with every second increasing my risk of
exposure.

I played the thin light beam along the wall about a foot
off the floor, searching for a jack. There was none in the
foyer. The next room was the living room. I discovered a
jack.

Quickly, I unplugged the phone and inserted the line
into the TTD. Nothing happened.

Muttering a soft curse, I realized that since there was
no line tap here, the probability of multiple lines
increased, and that meant I had to check each receiver in
the house.

I was heading for the next room, cursing under my
breath when a thought stopped me in my tracks. What if
they had already removed the tap? I could be wasting
valuable time. But I had no choice. Taking a deep breath,
I continued the search for phone jacks.

Each room had a receiver, I discovered but I went
through the entire house without any luck. The last room
was the sunroom, simply an enclosed back porch. I
paused, shining the tiny beam on my watch. Almost 8:30.
I'd been inside forty-five minutes. Too long-much too
long.

I found the jack and traced the line to a small table
beside a chaise lounge. Anxious to get out of the house, I
disconnected the line, plugged it into the TTD. My heart
jumped into my throat as a red light flashed on the TTD.

This was it. This must have been the receiver Landreth
used to return my call. Someone had indeed tapped it,
which reinforced my theory that Landreth had been murdered because he claimed to have the proof to free Bobby
Packard.

Quickly, I unplugged the TTD, dropped it back into my
pocket, and slipped out the back door. I leaped from the
porch and paused at the corner of the house to punch in
Janice's cell number. Just as it rang, a dark figure stepped
from around the corner and faced me. "Hold it right there,
buddy, or you're dead meat"

I froze, squinting into the darkness in an effort to discern his features.

"Okay turn around and put your hands behind you"

I felt the light bulk of the TTD in my pocket and the
cell phone in my hand. Maybe, if I threw them at him and
leaped aside at the same time, I might have a chance.

But before I could even flinch, the cold muzzle of a
handgun poked the back of my neck. A guttural voice
said, "He said put your hands behind you"

Dropping the cell phone to the ground at my feet, I did
as he said, figuring if they were going to send me wherever they had sent Landreth, they would already have put
some holes in me. "All right, boys. Here they are," I said
as I moved my hands behind my back.

One of them used a plastic tie to cinch my wrists
together. The narrow band cut into my flesh.

"Easy," I shouted, hoping Janice could hear what was
going on, "you're cutting off the blood"

"Tough," he growled, giving me a shove and sending
me stumbling across the lawn. "All right, head for the
barn"

The other one, the one with the guttural voice, laughed.
"When they find you in the barn, they'll figure you hung
yourself because you killed Landreth"

My blood ran cold. Their concept was as ludicrous as
their intent. "That'll cut no ice, boys," I said desperately.
"You think anyone would believe that I was so filled with
remorse that I'd come back out two days later and hang
myself? What'd you do, see that plot on `movie of the
week?"'

"Shut up, you," one growled, slamming me in the back
with his gun.

I staggered forward, grimacing at the sharp pain.

"Cut it out, Mick. We don't want no bruises on him"

Mick grumbled, "Just tell him to shut his trap"

"Don't worry. It'll be shut soon enough"

I knew then my only chance was to make a break. I'd
rather be shot down trying to escape than left dangling
from a rope inside the barn.

We were within twenty yards of the barn when a white
pickup with its headlights off roared around the corner of
the barn and headed directly for the two goons behind me.

Janice!

The two button men shouted and fired at the pickup
bearing down on them but at the last moment, they leaped
aside. I took off running while Janice whipped the
Silverado around and headed back at the two men stumbling to their feet.

"Yaaa," one yelled as he again threw himself aside. The
other tried to stand his ground. He managed to squeeze
off one shot, but at the last moment, decided discretion
was the better part of valor and leaped from the path of
the truck.

Janice slowed as she caught up with me. "Tony! Jump
in the back"

I didn't argue. I leaped in head first, twisting onto my
shoulder as I slammed onto the bed of the pickup. "Go,
go, go," I yelled. But then I felt the Silverado whipping
around for another pass at the two goons. "No, no, no," I yelled, but at seventy miles an hour, my words were
blown away by the wind.

There were two small pops, and then nothing. To my
relief, we kept going straight. When we reached Farm
Road, Janice slammed on the brakes and jumped in the
back, to try to free me.

"Hurry. They might be coming after us right now"

Her fingers fumbled. "I can't get it open"

"My pocket. Get my knife."

Her fingers flew. She muttered an unladylike curse. "I
broke a fingernail opening this thing," she muttered,
quickly slicing the plastic tie.

"I'll buy you new ones," I said, helping her from the
pickup bed into the truck. "Let's get going while we can"

Seconds later, we were driving toward Marble Falls and
on to Austin.

"That was a nifty bit of driving," I said, keeping my
eyes on both the road ahead and the traffic behind.

She looked up at me. "It wasn't bad, was it?"

"How'd you know what was going on?" I glanced at
her, puzzled.

"I saw them drive in but I didn't know what was going
on until I heard everything on the cell phone"

All I could do was shake my head.

The oncoming headlights lit up the big grin on her face.
"Now, aren't you glad you brought me tonight?"

I shook my head. "Absolutely. You saved my bacon
back there. Whoever those goons were, they were going
to make me the fall guy for Landreth's death"

She frowned. "I don't understand what good that
would do"

"It would solve a murder and get me out of the way"

For several seconds, Janice remained silent. I knew she
was agonizing over someone in particular but decided to
keep quiet unless she asked.

By the time I followed Janice back to her condo and
returned to my apartment, it was almost midnight. My
place was still dark as it had been when we picked up her
Miata. I figured my old man must be sleeping. We were
out of Old Milwaukee, I guessed.

I should have known better. He wasn't sleeping. He had
vanished.

This was no big surprise, I told myself as I searched
through the apartment to see if he'd carried off anything.
The garage door was still locked, so I assumed everything
in there must be intact.

Stepping back onto the porch, I peered up and down the
street in a futile effort to spot him and finally shook my
head. There was no telling where he was; no telling when
I'd see him again; no telling what he had in mind. And to
my surprise, I felt a tinge of disappointment. Without
being aware of it, I had begun to hope.

With a sigh, I went back inside. I had a busy day ahead.

It turned out to be busier than I had thought. At 4:00
A.M. the phone rang.

Groggy from too little sleep, I fumbled for the receiver. "Yeah," I managed to mutter.

"Tony?"

There was a familiar ring to the voice, but I was too
sleepy to make the effort to pinpoint it. "Huh?"

"This is Joe Ray Burrus"

Instantly, I became alert. Joe Ray worked the Evidence
Room down at Austin P.D. and he was always a reliable
source. He and I had gone through the first three years at
U. T. before he transferred to Sam Houston University
and changed his major to criminal justice.

Joe Ray was one of those free-thinking rebels who preferred remaining just within the bounds of convention for
the sake of comfort, the comfort of a steady paycheck.
From time to time, depending upon how a proposition
struck him, he pushed the envelope, on occasion kicking
a hole in it.

If he was calling me at this time of morning, it had to
be important. "Hey. What's wrong? Do you need something?"

"Naw, I'm fine. I'm working the vampire shift for Joe
Simmons" He paused a moment. "Reason I'm calling is
that a guy with the same last name as yours was tossed in
the drunk tank. Boudreaux. There ain't too many of them
Boudreaux-type folks around here in Austin."

Rolling my eyes, I replied, "His name wouldn't happen
to be John Roney would it?"

He chuckled, "Sounds familiar, huh?"

"Yeah," I muttered a couple choice expletives, "it's my
old man. He was staying out here with me, but when I got
in earlier, he was gone. Truth is, I was kind of hoping he'd
grabbed a freight for San Antonio and points west"
Strangely enough, as soon as I made the sarcastic quip, I
felt guilty.