Wayne looked up from his coffee and gazed around the Little Hen, taking in the other customers. Most had already noticed his presence and had given him a little wave or a smile, often adding “morning Chief.” He liked being around people who looked up to him, people who thought he was doing a good job.
He knew it wasn’t a particularly tall order to do a good job in a town like Paxton, tucked away in the south east corner of Kansas, miles from the nearest big city, miles from the nearest four lane highway. No crime to speak of, unless you count weekend bar fights, a little petty theft, things like that.
It was generally peaceful here, the kind of place where even the chief of police can take it easy, as long as he doesn’t sweat the small stuff. Wayne hadn’t been sweating the small stuff for quite some time.
Right now, all he missed was female companionship. He had a wife once, but she’d left, saying she couldn’t stay with a man who’d grown comfortable living in a town as dead as this one, even if he was the chief of police. He’d been sorry to see her go, but he wasn’t going to move to a big city just because she wanted excitement.
He let his gaze rest for a few seconds on Margie behind the counter, taking orders, keeping an eye on her customers, checking on the kitchen, making sure everything ran smoothly. About his own age he guessed, and not bad looking. Single, he’d been told. He wondered if he should sit at the counter next time, strike up a conversation. Might be a kindred soul, he mused.
His reverie was interrupted by the sight of Monte coming through the front door and rushing toward him, dodging tables, breathing hard. Wayne assumed the squad room toilet had overflowed again and started to say so, but Monte cut him short.
“Nothing like that Chief. It’s something bad, real bad. You need to come quick.”
Once they were outside, Monte told him that Connie, the manager at the County Market, had come running into the station a couple of minutes ago, practically hysterical. She said she’d just seen one of her employees, Luann she said it was, lying dead on her living room floor, blood everywhere.
“She said Luann was supposed to work this morning, but didn’t show up,” said Monte. “Same for another employee, young woman named Tammy. She’s tight with Luann, according to Connie. Both of them work the check-out lines.”
“Since they weren’t answering their phones, Connie drove over to Luann’s place to make sure everything was okay,” said Monte. “She saw the back door had been forced, and when she went in, there was Luann on her living room floor covered with blood, not breathing. I told her we’d take it from there.”
***
Wayne remembered seeing Luann at the County Market. Pretty little blond with a nice smile, always friendly. Now she was lying on a blood-soaked rug, gutted like a hog. Someone had sliced her open from her crotch up to her throat. Judging from where they found her, he guessed she was running for the front door when her killer brought her down. He hated to think about what happened next.
Everyone knew there was a guy who lived with Luann, a slick little Hispanic wannabe who called himself “Rico.” Whatever his name actually was, he was nowhere to be seen. Neither was his vehicle. Wayne told Monte to put in a call to the State Patrol, then told him they’d better check on the other woman, Luann’s friend Tammy.
Tammy’s place was a double-wide sitting next to a corn field on the edge of town. When nobody answered the front door, they checked the backdoor and found it open. Tammy was a few feet from the door, lying on her back in a pool of blood, her throat slashed.
Monte said that Tammy was married to a man named Russell Myers, the young guy who worked the counter at Al’s Auto Parts. No sign of him or his vehicle. Monte put in another call to the State Patrol.
***
The way Rico saw things, when you stay in a motel, you’re paying for a TV, so you might as well turn it on, which was exactly what he did as soon as he woke up. Not that he wanted to watch anything. He just liked having some background noise while he got dressed. Besides, he couldn’t have focused on what they were saying even if he’d wanted to. His mind was elsewhere.
For the first time in his life he’d caught a real break, a life-saver, actually. He couldn’t wait to tell Luann, see her face light up when he told how things had turned out.
He’d been sceptical when the guy from Colby called and said he was ready to pay top dollar if Rico’s meth was a good as he’d heard. The only catch was that Rico had to deliver the stuff the very next day, all the way over to Colby, a good four-hour drive.
When Rico told Luann about the guy’s offer, she said this could be their ticket out. If the guy was for real, they’d have more than enough cash to get away and start over somewhere else. Just about anywhere would do, she said, as long as they wouldn’t have to worry about those lunatics who’d been supplying Rico with his product.
His suppliers were a couple of brothers living about a half hour from Paxton, out in the deep country. Rough looking guys, not very sociable, but they definitely knew how to cook meth. Even grew some really fine weed out there. Reasonable prices, too. Rico had been happy to do business with them. At least he had been until a couple of weeks ago.
It all went sideways the last time he drove out to make a buy. It was Luann’s day off, so he’d brought her along for company. Why not? She wasn’t going to tell anyone about these guys, or how to find them. Why would she?
The usual drill was to drive out to the middle of an open field, then stop at an old rusty stock tank and flash his lights a couple of times. After a few minutes, the brothers would come driving out of some woods up ahead, pull up beside him, then do the deal. Nothing to it, until he came driving up with Luann, that is.
Soon as they saw Luann, they dragged him out of the car and knocked him around until he was flat on his back, bleeding and barely conscious. One of the brothers, the one called Bob, jammed the muzzle of a shotgun into his mouth and said they were going to kill him for bringing someone they hadn’t invited.
He’d thought this was it, but Bob eased up, saying they were giving him a pass this time because they might not have been clear on this subject until now. Next time would be different, he said. No more passes.
While Rico was still lying in the dirt, the other brother, Roy, pulled Luann out of the car and threw her to the ground, then sat on her chest holding a big hunting knife up to her face. He told her that if she ever let anyone know how to find them, he’d come after her, and when he caught her, he’d put this knife of his between her legs, and then slit her “all the way up, right up to here.” That’s when he used the tip of his knife to make a little nick under her chin, just deep enough to draw blood. “You tell anyone, you’re dead, and so are they,” he said.
On the way back to Paxton, Luann said they needed to find a way to get out of here, the sooner the better. She was ready to go anywhere. So was Rico.
***
We’re as good as on our way now, thought Rico, sitting on the bed, pulling on his pants. The guy over in Colby had been true to his word, and had paid top dollar for all his meth, even for all the weed he brought along. As soon as he got back to Paxton they could pack up and get the hell out.
He’d been thinking they could head for California, maybe check out LA. Luann wouldn’t have any problem getting a job. For himself, he was thinking about taking a shot at Hollywood. Why not? You turn on the TV and half the time you get shows about cops going after drug dealers. No reason he couldn’t get parts playing a drug dealer, all the experience he’s had. Besides, he figured he could pass for Hispanic, which would be a plus, judging from what he saw on TV.
They wouldn’t even have to write a script for him. Just tell him who he’s supposed to be and what the story’s about, and he could take it from there. He already knows what a real dealer would say.
***
Wayne had heard some time ago that Russell Myers was a wife-beater. According to Monte, Russell had recently beaten Tammy so badly she’d ended up in the ER in another county. Broken facial bones, so he’d heard. She’d never called the station to ask for help, of course. Wayne would have been surprised if she had.
Okay, so Russell was a wife-beater, but did that make him a killer, a man who’d slash his wife’s throat? He doubted it. Why would this guy all of a sudden quit using his fists and decide to use a knife instead?
He had doubts about Rico as well. He’d seen the guy around, even talked to him a couple of times, and couldn’t imagine him taking a knife to Luann or anyone else for that matter. No, Rico was always playing it cool, acting like he was a smooth operator who didn’t have to get his hands dirty. Besides, he wasn’t built for any kind of physical confrontation. Way too skinny. Luann could probably take him, even if he had a knife.
Regardless of his doubts, those two guys were the obvious suspects. The State Patrol had already sent photos of them to every TV station in the region, along with descriptions of their vehicles. Unless they were hiding and staying put, it wouldn’t be long before they were picked up.
It was here that things got sticky. Not picking up Russell. Wayne didn’t care about him one way or another. It was picking up Rico that had him worried.
The problem was that over the past couple of years, Wayne had drifted into a “take it easy” approach to life, an approach that included having a few tokes every evening after coming home from work. Wouldn’t get stoned out of his mind, nothing like that. Just enough for a pleasant buzz. He’d even have a hit or two in the morning so he could start the day off right.
Didn’t hurt anyone, he’d reasoned. Just the opposite. Helped him stay relaxed and easy to get along with, which his officers seemed to appreciate. The rub, and this is where it gets real sticky, had to do with the source of his weed. Who else but Rico? He was the only dealer in this part of the state with really good stuff.
Worse still, Rico didn’t just give him the weed, or even sell it to him. That would have been bad enough in Kansas, but some time ago he and Rico had come to an understanding, an agreement you might say. The guy could keep on dealing whatever he wants to deal, as long as he’s discreet, and as long as he slips an ounce of top quality weed into Wayne’s mailbox once month. Seemed like a good deal all around, until now.
He was pretty sure he knew what would happen when Rico was picked up. First thing, he’d say he wants to talk to the Chief and nobody else. Once they’re alone, he’d say he wants some help getting out of this jam. Otherwise, they’ll both have problems.
He could deny whatever Rico said, but he also knew there was a good chance the slick little bastard had proof of their deal, like a photo of Wayne retrieving a baggie of weed from his mailbox. He might even have a recording of their conversation.
He could see the headlines: “Police chief charged with taking bribes from drug-dealing murder suspect.” He could also see himself in front of a judge who wouldn’t hesitate to give him the maximum. Not that the length of the sentence would matter if they put him in with the general population at Lansing. Same as a death sentence, worse even. A police chief would be a tasty morsel for a lot of those guys. They’d savor his agony.
Aside from all this was the big question, the question everyone would be expecting him to answer. Who killed these women and why? Wayne didn’t know. He couldn’t make sense of any of it.
Shivering from a cold sweat that was now darkening his shirt, he felt a powerful urge to flee, to leave it all behind, but he knew it wouldn’t work. If there was a way out, running wasn’t it.
***
Rico’s fantasies of stardom were interrupted by someone coming on TV and saying there was breaking news about two Paxton women who had been brutally murdered in their homes. The announcer gave their names, but said the authorities weren’t releasing any other details yet, except that the killer had used a knife. He said the two men who had been living with these women were missing, and were wanted for questioning.
Before Rico could digest what he’d heard, he saw his face on the screen with a photo of Russell Myers right beside it, along with their names printed in big letters. The announcer even described their vehicles, including plate numbers, then added that anyone who saw either of these men should call the authorities immediately.
Rico sat motionless for several seconds, his thoughts scrambled. He changed channels, just in time to catch the tail end of the same announcement, photos and all. Same thing on every channel.
His Luann, dead? And he’s a suspect? Along with Russell? Can’t be true. It made no sense. Rico sat there stunned, unable to think.
After a few minutes, a coherent thought began to assert itself, along with an image of Roy sitting on Luann’s chest holding a knife in her face. He’d threatened to slice her up, and Rico didn’t doubt that he would, but why would he do it now? Those guys said they had given them a pass.
Sure, if Luann told someone, and they found out, they might come after her. Probably would actually, but Luann knew better than to tell anyone. She was scared shitless of those guys, just like he was. Besides, who would she tell?
As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer. She’d tell her best friend Tammy, that’s who. She probably told Tammy the whole story about going out there and getting roughed up. Maybe even told Tammy exactly where it happened.
If Luann told Tammy, and if the brothers ever found out, that would explain why both of them had been murdered. The problem was, how would those guys ever know that Luann had told Tammy? Someone would have to tell them. Who?
He puzzled over this question for several minutes before remembering that he wasn’t the only one unaccounted for. What about Russell? Where did he fit into this? Did he somehow come into contact with those guys and tell them he’d learned about them from something Luann had told his wife? Why would Russell do something that stupid?
Then it hit him. Maybe Russell and Tammy were going into the holiday weekend completely dry because he was their supplier, and had gone off to Colby instead of taking care of his regular customers. Tammy might have told Russell she knew where he could score. She might have told him what Luann told her about these two brothers who were cooking meth out in the country.
But as tough as Russell liked to think he was, Rico was sure he would have known better than to drive out there planning to do business with those guys. No way he would just drop in on two guys who said they’d kill anyone who showed up uninvited.
That’s assuming Tammy had told Russell everything, of course. Maybe she hadn’t. But why? She had to know those guys might kill him.
Was that the whole point? Had she wanted to get rid of him? Rico knew Russell knocked Tammy around. She told Luann every time it happened. Maybe Tammy was afraid that some day Russell would beat her so badly she’d end up crippled or something. The cops wouldn’t help her, not around here. She couldn’t run either. Rico was sure Russell was the kind of man who thought he owned his wife. He’d come after her.
Rico could see it taking shape. If Tammy wanted to get out from under Russell, she’d probably have to kill him, or more likely, find someone to do it for her, maybe someone like the two brothers who’d do it just to make a point. All she would have to do is think of a way to send Russell out there.
If that’s what happened, it would explain everything. Tammy tells Russell she knows about two guys who are cooking meth. She tells him how to find them, then encourages him to go out and make a buy, which is the only way they’ll have any meth for the long weekend ahead. Maybe she tells him it’ll be easy because they’re just a couple of farm boys trying to make a few extra bucks. So Russell drives out there, not knowing what’s in store for him.
Soon as Russell gets there, the two brothers ask how he knew where to find them. He’s clueless, so he tells them. They finish him off, bury his body somewhere, get rid of his car, then wait till it’s dark before coming into town to do just what they said they’d do. Probably Luann first, then Tammy.
If Russell paid those guys a visit, there’s no way his own name didn’t come up, thought Rico. Russell would probably say they were old friends, or something like that, thinking it would be a good way to introduce himself. If that’s how it went, he’s next. They could be looking for him now.
In a panic, Rico grabbed his shoes and bolted for the door, but then he remembered what he’d just seen on TV. Every cop in Kansas was on the lookout for him, not to mention everyone who was watching TV this morning. He wouldn’t get far.
Okay, thought Rico, so the cops find him, then what? He’d tell them they’ve got the wrong guy because he was in Colby, visiting friends. Good luck with that. They’d want names. Would the guy who bought his stuff last night back him up? Not in a million years. So much for his alibi. Then what? Charged with Luann’s murder, that’s what. Maybe even Tammy’s murder.
He could run, but he knew it was hopeless. Far better to find someone to help him get things straightened out, someone like the Chief.
***
Wayne’s thoughts were interrupted when Monte rapped on the door and said there was a call for him. “The guy won’t talk to anyone but you, Chief. Says it’s about the murders.” Rico, he figured. He was right.
He listened to Rico’s story without saying anything, then had him go through it again, slowly and from the beginning. He wanted to see if there was something here he could use, something that would give him a way out. Rico gave it to him, right at the end.
“I guarantee you, Chief,” said Rico, “you take some of your people out there and search the place, and you’ll find Russell’s body and you’ll find the knife, which means you’ll have the guys who did it. Once you have them, there’s no need for the cops to bring me in and start asking a lot of questions. Wouldn’t be long before they figure out that I’m a dealer, and when they do, they’ll start wondering how I got away with it so long.”
Rico waited a moment, then added, “If you don’t go after them Chief, and I’ll have to turn myself in. Got no other choice.”
“No other choice? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You been listening to me? I’m the one who showed Luann how to find them in the first place, remember?
“So what?”
“So those guys are going to come after me, that’s what. The way they’ll look at it, the whole thing’s my fault. They ever find me, I’m dead. So yeah, I’ve got no other choice. If I turn myself in, at least I got protection.”
Wayne already knew he wasn’t going to take any officers out there to bring in the brothers, but he kept this to himself. He had a better idea, a lot better. He just needed a little more information.
“Listen,” he said, doing his best to sound reassuring. “You can get protection without turning yourself in. Just listen, okay? Here’s the plan. I’m going to call the State Patrol and tell them I’ve got an anonymous source in Colby who knows who did it, but he needs protection, and he needs it right now, this very minute.”
He waited to let this sink in, then continued. “I’ll have them send some troopers to set up right near you, okay? They’ll stay out of sight, then nail those guys the moment they show up. Trust me on this. It’ll work.”
“They better send plenty of men, you hear me? Those guys are tough.”
“I hear you, but no matter how many they send, they can’t protect you if they don’t know where you are. You understand? First you have to tell me where you’re staying, then you have to stay put, got it?
“Yeah, I got it.”
“That’s good. So, where are you?”
“I’m right on the edge of Colby, couple of miles from the freeway. Motel called Trail’s End.”
“Room number? The troopers will need to know.”
“Number 12. It’s in the back.”
“That’s where you are right now?”.
“I’m at a pay phone across the street, outside a convenience store.”
“That’s good. Now, go back to your room and stay there. Order out for what you need, then stay inside till I get word to you that we’ve got them. Can’t say how long it’ll take, might not be till tomorrow morning. You just have to sit tight, okay? Remember, if you leave, there’s no way I can protect you.”
After the call ended, the Chief sat for a few minutes thinking about how he was going to play it, then decided that if he was going to do anything, he’d better do it now. Even if Rico stayed inside his motel room, sooner or later someone would remember seeing him, the motel clerk maybe. Once that happens, the State Patrol would be on him. After that, it’s all downhill.
***
Rico sat in the room, wondering if he’d made the right move. No question about whether the Chief would get on it. They were in this together, and the Chief knew it. The only question was whether the brothers would be taken alive.
Best case scenario, Rico figured, is that the brothers decide to shoot it out, and both of them end up dead. The cops search their place, find Russell’s body, find the knife. Case closed. He could go on to Hollywood, get into the movies, have a new life.
He’d miss Luann. Couldn’t stand to think of what it must have been like for her, seeing Roy come at her with a knife, knowing what was going to happen. Too awful to think about. She didn’t deserve this, he thought. He wanted those guys dead.
It was driving him crazy, thinking about what happened to Luann, so he turned on the TV. Maybe he’d find a movie with drug dealers in it. Watch it from a professional point of view, see how well they did it. When he gets out to Hollywood, he can show them how to do it right.
***
Wayne found the open field without any trouble, then drove across it till he came to the old stock tank where Rico said he should stop and flash his lights a few times. He didn’t like being out there all alone, especially when nobody back at the station had any idea where he was. No choice, though. He tells them where he’s going and they’ll ask questions. Better to avoid all that. He’d told Monte he’d be gone for a while, then took off before Monte could say anything.
He’d taken the department’s only unmarked car, and put his hat on the seat beside him. With any luck, he could find the place, have his little chat, then get back to town without being recognized. With a little more luck still, he’d be coming back to town knowing his problem would soon be taken care.
He knew there was a chance he’d end up joining Russell, but he doubted it. All Russell could offer these boys was a few bucks for a little meth. He figured he could do a lot better than that. He could offer up Rico, the guy who soon will be telling everyone how to find them. Unless something happened to him first, that is. No, these guys would recognize a helping hand when it was offered.
He sat with his engine off, watching up ahead for any signs of life, listening for the sounds of a truck engine. Nothing. He could hear the pings of hot metal cooling off, the cawing of some crows in the distance. Otherwise, it was dead quiet.
He was starting to wonder if he was in the right place when he saw what appeared to be pickup coming out of the woods, heading toward him, moving slowly. As it got closer, he could make out two men in the cab. Bingo. A few seconds later the driver swerved off the path and went past him for fifty yards or so before doing a 180 and swinging around behind him.
Using his rear view mirror, he watched the two men emerge from the pickup and start walking toward him, splitting up. Big guys, unshaven, lean and tough-looking. Both were carrying what appeared to be 12 gauge autoloaders, muzzles pointed down. They were taking their time, keeping their eyes on him.
He put a hand on his Glock, but quickly moved it away. Bad idea, he thought, likely to get him killed. Better to keep it friendly, stick with the plan.
One of them came up on the driver’s side, stopped by the open window and leaned down to peer in.
“Something we can do for you?” he asked, his voice even.
“Actually, I was thinking there was something I can do for you, if you’re the two brothers Rico told me about. I’ve got something I think you’ll be interested in.”
“Is that right?” he said. “And who might you be?”
“My name’s Wayne, but I head up the police department over in Paxton, so people generally just call me Chief.”
“Well, Chief,” he said, his voice still even, “I might be interested in what you have to say, but it’s hard to have a conversation with you sitting in there, and me out here. Why don’t you step on out so I don’t have to keep bending over. Hurts my back, you know what I mean? My name’s Roy, by the way, and that there’s Bob.”
Once Wayne was out of the car and facing him, Roy said, “You don’t mind if Bob here takes a look around inside your car, do you?”
“He can look all he wants.”
“While Bob’s doing that, why don’t you unbutton your shirt and show me your chest. No offense, but I’d feel better knowing there’s nobody listening in, if you know what I mean.”
“Not wired, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said Wayne, unbuttoning his shirt.
“Try not to worry about anything these days, never done me any good,” said Roy, sounding almost friendly. “How’s it look, Bob?”
“Usual cop stuff,” said Bob. “Radio’s off.”
“You mentioned Rico,” said Roy. “He the one who told you how to find us?”
“He did, that and quite a bit more, as a matter of fact.”
“Is that right? Mind telling us what he said?”
“Don’t mind at all. Truth be told, that’s why I’m out here. Got this story I want to tell you.”
“We’re listening,” said Roy.
“May sound crazy, but Rico has this idea that a guy from town, fellow named Russell, came out here yesterday to do business with you, but got himself killed instead.”
“This here Rico’s got some imagination, I’d say,” said Roy, now smiling broadly, his eyes sparkling like he’d heard a good joke.
“Oh, it gets better. Rico figures after you took care of Russell, you drove into town last night and sliced up the two girls we found this morning.”
“This Rico fellow tell you why we’d do something like that?”
“He did. He told me one of those girls, the one called Luann, knew how to find you because she was out here once. According to Rico, you warned her you’d slice her up if she told anyone, and would do the same to anyone she told. But instead of keeping quiet, this Luann told her friend Tammy how to find you. Tammy then tells her husband Russell, who decided to come out here hoping to do some business with you. You asked him how he learned where you were, he told you, so you killed all three of them, just like you said you would.
“That’s quite a story. The problem is, you say Rico told you, but on the news they’re saying he’s nowhere to be found. That true?”
“Well, it is and it isn’t.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means the State Patrol hasn’t found him, but I know where he is. He gave me a call, not more than an hour ago.”
“Who else knows about this story Rico’s come up with?”
“Nobody yet, but it won’t be too long before Rico’s picked up, and once that happens, he’ll tell the story to anyone who’ll listen. He thinks the only way he’ll live to see tomorrow is if law enforcement comes out here and takes you down.”
“Rico still in Kansas?”
“Right now he’s in Colby, holed up in a motel called Trail’s End, out on the edge of town. Said he’s in Room 12, in the back.”
“How long you figure he’ll stay?”
“I told him to stay put at least until tomorrow morning, and I think he will. After that, he might run. If he does, he won’t get far before he’s picked up.”
“Well, Chief” said Roy, after scratching his chin and looking off into the distance as though trying to sort through a puzzle, “I’m getting the feeling you wouldn’t mind if something happened to Rico. Do I have that right?”
“Let’s just say if something happens to him, he won’t be missed, if you get my drift.”
The two men stood looking at each other in silence for a few moments before Roy spoke, his tone still friendly.
“Like I said, that’s quite a story, but now I’ve got another problem. You say you’re the chief in Paxton, but for all I know, you’re with the Feds, maybe DEA, out here sniffing around. So if you’ve got some identification, I’d like to have a look at it.”
Seeing Wayne hesitate, Roy added, “Not that I doubt you. Just trying to be careful, you understand. You’d do same, wouldn’t you?”
“Not a problem,” said the Chief, pulling a leather ID case from his breast pocket. He flipped it open and held it out for Roy to see.
Squinting as though he couldn’t make out the words, Roy reached out and took the case from Wayne’s hand. He stepped back and studied the identification card for several moments before flipping the case closed.
“Chief of police, just like you said,” said Roy. He extended his hand to return the case, but it slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground before Wayne could grasp it.
“Sorry about that,” said Roy, slowly starting to bend down to pick it up.
“No problem” said Wayne, quickly bending down. “I’ll get it.”
By the time Wayne realized that taking his eyes off Roy had been a rookie mistake, the stock of Roy’s shotgun caught him square on the jaw. He felt a blinding pain as his jawbone shattered, then nothing.
“You got him a good one” said Bob. “That’s two in a row.”
“You know what they say about practice,” said Roy, smiling faintly.
“Considering how he more or less invited you to lay into him, I’d say this here boy is in the wrong business.”
“Was in the wrong business, don’t you mean? Don’t the past tense apply here?”
“Past tense? How on earth did you come up with that?”
“Heard it once some time ago. Makes sense, don’t it? If something’s already happened, you’re supposed to talk like it’s already happened. That means you use the past tense.”
“I can see that, but the fact is, you can’t use the past tense if the man’s still breathing, which he is.”
“You said something like that yesterday,” said Roy, smiling now. “Remember what I said then?
“I guess you’re saying he’ll be “was” real soon,” said Bob. He too was smiling, enjoying their little give and take.
“I’m also saying we’ve got some work to do it, and we’d better get to it,” said Roy, serious now.
“Any idea why he gave up Rico like he did?” said Bob, grabbing hold of Wayne’s feet.
“Reckon Rico’s got something on him,” said Roy. “The Chief here was probably hoping we’d take care of it for him.”
“Think he was planning to offer us something in return?”
“Don’t matter. He didn’t have anything we need.”
“There you are, still using that past tense,” said Bob.
“Just looking ahead, that’s all,” said Roy, “and as far as I’m concerned, we can start using the past tense with Rico too.
***
Rico didn’t want the pizza delivery guy to see his face, so he opened the door only a few inches, passed the guy a twenty and told him to leave the pizza by the door.
He couldn’t remember the last time he was this hungry. Almost six, and he hadn’t eaten anything all day but candy bars and some other junk he’d bought from a vending machine not far from his room.
Rico put the pizza box on the bedside table, made himself comfortable, and was about to reach for his first slice when he heard a light rapping on the door. What now? Didn’t he give the guy enough? He crept up to the door, and listened for a few seconds. More light rapping. “Who is it?” he asked.
The words were barely out of his mouth when the door flew open, missing his head by inches. Standing in the doorway facing him was Roy, a murderous look on his face, hunting knife in hand, with Bob a step behind. Rico turned to run, but within two strides he felt a hand gripping his hair, snapping his head back, exposing his throat.
Moments later, the brothers stood over Rico, now on his back, blood starting to pool around his head. He was motionless except for his mouth, which was opening and closing as though he was trying to form words, perhaps to plead for a second chance.
Neither Roy nor Bob cared what Rico was trying to say. It was enough for them to know that his mouth would soon be shut for good. They watched the flow of blood from the deep gash across his throat slow to a trickle, then stop.
Satisfied, the brothers began moving about the room, looking for anything Rico might have written down that would identify them. Neither spoke until Bob’s eyes fell upon the open box containing Rico’s still untouched pizza. He bent over the box and breathed deeply, taking in its cheesy aroma.
“Roy, look what we’ve got here. This pizza’s still hot. Looks to me like it’s pepperoni.”
“What of it?” said Bob. “Think Rico might have written our names on the box before we come in?”
“All the more reason to take it with us, just to be sure,” said Bob, smiling broadly, eyes twinkling, “I’m just saying it’s a shame to let it go to waste, that’s all.”
“Little brother, stuff like that’ll kill you,” said Roy, with mock seriousness. “Don’t matter how good it looks.”
“World’s full of stuff that’ll kill you faster than this pizza,” said Bob, “including the stuff we cook up.”
“True enough.” said Roy, gazing down at Rico’s lifeless body. “Our stuff can kill you in lots of ways. Just ask Rico here.”
“Think it’ll kill us too?” said Bob.
Roy said nothing for several long moments before shifting his gaze to his brother. His face was grim, as though preparing to deliver a sacred edict. “Bob, we got a god-given right to live as we see fit, and I aim to protect that right,” said Roy. “You with me?”
“You know I am,” said Bob, “but you didn’t answer my question.”
“We going to get killed, that what you’re asking?” said Roy. “Maybe.” He paused a beat, then added, “Probably. But I’ll tell you this little brother. When they come after us, we won’t be the only ones getting killed, I guarantee it. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Walking out the door behind his brother, Bob glanced longingly at the open pizza box before closing the door behind him. “Got another question, Roy.”
“Yeah?” said Roy, not breaking stride. “What is it?”
“What say we stop somewhere on the way back and get something to eat?” said Bob. “I’m just about starved.”
***
Monte knew that if he wanted to be the new chief, he’d have to make a good impression on the mayor, who was on her way over right now. When she called, she said she’d heard the news on TV, so she knew about Russell Myers and the Chief being found dead and buried out in the country, about Rico being found dead in Colby and the two guys who’d done all the killing now dead after an early morning shoot out. She’d told Monte it was good to know it was all over, but she wanted to know the details, like how they figured out who did it. She wanted it first-hand from Monte.
Shouldn’t be hard to explain, Monte thought. Cameras mainly. That and inter-agency cooperation.
There was only one area to gloss over. Why did it take four hours before they started to wonder where the Chief was, and another hour before someone remembered the phone call to the Chief right before he took off?
Not that all this couldn’t be explained. They’d been swamped with dozens of calls from media people, plus countless calls from people who claimed to have valuable information, as well as quite a few from people who claimed they’re the ones who’d killed the two women. Plus, they had to interview friends, neighbors, co-workers. They’d been overwhelmed. He wouldn’t say this, of course, but it was true.
Once they traced the call the Chief had taken, everything fell into place. When officers from the Colby PD checked the convenience store security cameras they saw Rico making the call, then walking across the street toward a motel. The officers followed up, found a door that had been forced, then Rico’s body. The motel’s parking lot camera showed a Ford F-150 pickup arriving just as a pizza delivery guy was driving away, followed by two men entering Rico’s room after kicking the door open. The pickup’s license plate was clearly visible.
After that, a call to the State Patrol led to every security camera on the interstate being checked. Didn’t take long to find video of the same pickup heading back east, stopping once at a diner. The pickup’s plates led to the registered owner, and a check of property records showed that the same person owned some acreage with a house, out in the country not far from Paxton. At about the same time, a bus station employee in Wichita who’d seen the TV announcement recognized Russell’s car in long-term parking, and called it in. When the Wichita PD checked it out, they also found Paxton’s unmarked patrol car parked right beside Russell’s car.
Parking lot cameras showed a man dropping off the two cars, first the one owned by Russell, followed the next day by the patrol car. Both times, the driver was picked up by same F-150 pickup that had been seen at the motel.
At that point, a check of the security cameras outside a gas station on the edge of Paxton turned up the same pickup coming and going on the night the two women were killed.
By this time, it was pretty clear who the killers were and where they lived, so a swat team was assembled and put in place nearby. The team waited until first light, then told the men to come out, hands up. When they came out firing instead, it was all over in a matter of seconds. Nobody hurt but the bad guys.
After that, it didn’t take long to find the bodies of the Chief and Russell Myers, a hunting knife with plenty of blood on it, a meth lab and about a half-million in cash.
Monte assumed the Mayor would want to know what led to all the killing, just like she’d want to know why the Chief went out there without telling anyone. Monte would have to say he didn’t know. The only people who knew were dead.
So that would be that. He’d tell it like it was, nothing more, nothing less.
Well, almost. He couldn’t think of a good reason to say anything about finding a couple of ounces of weed in the Chief’s house when he’d gone in looking for him, just in case that’s where he’d been for all those hours. Why besmirch the Chief’s name at this point? Besides, judging from its aroma, it was top quality weed. No need for it to go to waste.
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