‘I really don’t have time for a summary,’ Dezz said, ‘and it’s confidential, so we’re-’
‘Not rushing off just yet,’ the deputy said.
‘I’m a federal agent-’
‘I heard you the first three times. But you’re in our jurisdiction, and I haven’t heard that you’ve spoken with our sheriff.’
‘I planned to call the sheriff shortly. We hadn’t located our subject yet, and I saw no need to waste his time.’
‘Her time,’ the deputy said. ‘Step out of the car, sir, and we’ll give her a call about your case.’
‘This is ridiculous.’
‘Sir. All due respect, you can’t come down and run ninety on our roads.’ The deputy leaned down close to Dezz’s window. ‘Let’s just call-’
‘Let’s not.’ Dezz’s fist lashed out like a hammer into the soft of the throat, crushing the windpipe. The deputy staggered back from Dezz’s window, his sunglasses askew, mouth working in circles for air. Dezz drew his gun and fired a silenced shot. It burst the forehead between the Stetson and the cheap sunglasses.
‘Oh, my God!’ Carrie screamed. She saw a car cresting the hill, approaching them. Dezz floored the pedal; the sedan shot forward. Dezz readied his gun, steering with one hand.
‘Dezz!’ Jargo yelled.
The approaching car – a puttering Chevrolet, ten years old – braked at the sight of the deputy lying dead in the road, and Carrie saw the driver’s face widen in shock. She was a thirtyish blonde in glasses, wearing a Wal-Mart apron and fluffy bangs. Dezz fired twice as they zoomed past. The driver’s window vanished in glass dust and a bloom of red. The Chevrolet left the road, smashed into fencing that marked the edge of a cow pasture, the front of the car crumpling like foil.
‘Not. A. Word.’ Dezz steered back into the center of the lane and shoved the speed up to one hundred.
Jargo leaned forward and closed his hands around his son’s throat.
‘That was idiotic,’ Jargo said.
‘We don’t have time to shit around with cops.’ Dezz sounded calm, as though they’d just stopped to inspect peaches at a roadside fruit stand.
‘I ordered you to take the goddamned ticket!’ Jargo said. ‘Listen to his lecture, smile and nod, be smart.’
‘Dad. The only ID I had at hand was the federal. He was calling it in, no matter what, and I couldn’t let that happen. Better, tactically, to kill him now than to have to run later. It only put us two minutes behind schedule.’
Jargo eased his grip off Dezz’s throat, slapped the back of his son’s head. ‘The next time you disobey, I’ll shoot you in the hand. I’ll ruin it. You won’t ever work again. And I’ll cut you off, and I’ll…’ Jargo fell back in the seat. He lowered his voice. ‘Do not disobey me.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Dezz said.
‘You didn’t have to kill that woman,’ Carrie said in a thin voice.
‘I just shot out her window. So she couldn’t get a look at us, spot our license plate.’
Carrie fought down the urge to vomit. She couldn’t show weakness around him. Not now.
Jargo said, ‘Let’s put the unfortunate deputy and witness out of our minds. We have a job to do.’
Carrie knew his request was for her benefit; the two innocents were already long gone from Dezz’s mind. She checked her gun, wiped a hand across her mouth.
‘Carrie, those deaths just now, they’re regrettable,’ Jargo said. ‘Truly. But I can’t think of them as people, you see? I can’t imagine them as someone’s baby, or that they had a whole and worthy life to live. You have to keep your eyes on the prize. It’s the only way to stay sane.’
Carrie knew he – they – were cold beyond belief. Worse than insane. They chose to murder without guilt.
Evan, please don’t be at this house. Don’t.
‘Find a back way,’ Jargo said. ‘Pull up the GPS map for me. Just because Evan called Carrie doesn’t mean he’s free of Gabriel. This could be a trap, Gabriel or the CIA pulling us in.’
A trap, with Evan laid as bait. She didn’t want to think about that. ‘Evan…’
‘Carrie, I know. You don’t want him hurt. We don’t either. I have my own reasons for wanting to be sure Evan is safe.’ The lie – she was sure it was a lie – sounded smooth on Jargo’s tongue.
Dezz pointed at the GPS screen. ‘There’s an access road a half mile from the front entrance of the ranch. We’ll go in that way.’
Get to Evan first, Carrie told herself. Find him and get him out of there before Dezz and Jargo kill him.
The hill rose from the back ranch road in a sharp incline, limestone breaking through the thin soil in heaves and cracks, thirsty cedars and small oaks competing on the scrubby land. Dezz took the lead, Carrie the middle. Jargo brought up the rear.
Dezz stopped so suddenly Carrie nearly walked into his back.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I heard a hiss.’ For the first time Carrie heard a tremble in Dezz’s voice.
‘Snakes are still hibernating now,’ Jargo said. ‘No need to be afraid, little boy.’ Annoyance and arrogance blended in his tone; stinging still, Carrie decided, from Dezz’s earlier disobedience.
‘I don’t like fucking snakes,’ Dezz said. He took a tentative step forward. Carrie went around him to take the lead, easing down through the trees. Dezz walked as if he were navigating a minefield, one cautious step after another.
‘Dezz, it’s okay.’ Carrie wished a rattlesnake would whip its head out from under a rock, sink its fangs into Dezz’s face or leg or butt. ‘I think you heard the wind in the branches.’
He didn’t move.
‘Dezz hates snakes. Reptiles. Anything that lives belly on the ground,’ Jargo said. ‘I should get him a cobra as a pet. Help him overcome his weakness.’
Dezz moaned in his throat.
‘Now you know how to punish him when he won’t listen to you,’ Carrie said to Jargo. ‘Put a copperhead in his bed.’
They heard a crash of metal, then another crash, a gunshot, a scream, the roar of an engine moving away from them.
Jargo grabbed Dezz’s arm and the three hurried down an incline, then climbed up another small hill. They ran past a stable and a limestone pool, heard the rev of a second engine, heard the distant crack of another gunshot, saw a bald man racing a motorcycle down the driveway.
‘Gabriel,’ Jargo said.
Dezz bolted, hurrying down the driveway, Jargo following. He called back over his shoulder, ‘Carrie, secure the house.’
She didn’t stop and Jargo raised a gun toward her and said, ‘Do what you’re told.’
Evan wasn’t on the motorcycle; he might be in the house. This is my chance. So she nodded and ran back toward the house.
Seeing Gabriel talking to a parked Suburban, Dezz hunkered down among the cedars. Jargo knelt next to him.
Evan, Dezz mouthed. He’s in the car. Jargo nodded. They waited through two minutes of talking.
Dezz couldn’t see where in the Suburban the dumbass was. But then he heard, from under the car, a clear yelclass="underline" ‘I’m coming out…’ And Gabriel training his pistol at the SUV’s underside.
Dezz stood, aimed, and fired.
The bald man jerked, blood popped from his back, and he fell with a choked cry of agony.
‘Don’t kill Evan,’ Jargo whispered to Dezz. ‘Wound if you must. I prefer him alive to answer my questions.’ He gripped Dezz’s arm. ‘Clear?’
‘Totally.’
Jargo frowned. ‘You’ve not had a confidence-inspiring day.’
‘Benefit of the doubt, Daddy.’ Then Dezz yelled, ‘Freeze! FBI!’ and started down the hill. Jargo stood, glancing back at the house where Carrie had vanished. Silence. He hoped Gabriel worked alone. Traitor-baiters often did; they trusted no one. It was, Jargo knew, a sad and smart way to live. He drew back into the trees to watch. In case Evan came out shooting.
Gabriel crawled for his gun, face contorted in pain. Another bullet kicked up the limestone crush by his head and he stopped.
‘I told you to freeze,’ Evan heard a voice say. Not angry. Calm. A young voice. Almost amused. ‘It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a strongly worded suggestion.’
‘Oh, shit!’ Gabriel said. ‘Him… him…’
‘Evan? The cavalry’s arrived,’ the voice called.