He jammed his hands in his pants pockets and rocked on his heels. “Chief, I just thought of something funny.”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me about it.”
“Yeah, well, it occurs to me that you have a press conference on the books for this Friday. One of those grandstanding affairs to publicly congratulate yourself about the drop in illegal drug activity in Tucumcari this year.”
“What’s so funny about that? I’m damn proud of those numbers.”
Vaughn fished the pack of gum from his shirt pocket and popped a stick in his mouth. He’d purchased it exclusively for Meyer, because it drove him ape-shit. “You should be. Sure. But it’s ironic timing, don’t you think? I mean, if Junior’s tox results show drugs in his system, which you and I both know will be the case, that could put quite the damper on your media party.”
“Are you daring to insult my son while he’s recovering from a near-fatal gunshot wound? Classy, Sheriff. Real classy.”
Vaughn smacked his lips, enjoying the sound of squishing saliva as he bit down on the gum. “Classy’s my middle name, haven’t you heard?”
Swabbing a hand over his whiskers, Meyer said, “Tell me what happened in the Parillas Valley today.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Son, you are not the first sheriff I’ve worked with in my lifetime, and you won’t be the last. I understand you’re dense when it comes to professional courtesy, being as young as you are, but there are unwritten rules in our profession that you would do well to follow.”
“Uh-huh,” Vaughn said stupidly.
Meyer’s eyes flared with anger. His ears turned pink. Oh, yeah. The dumb punk act was crawling under his skin real good. Wouldn’t be long before he blew his top.
“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Meyer said with a forced grin. “What happened to my son?”
“Junior can tell you himself.”
Meyer puckered his mouth and spit a nasty bit of juice from his chew into the potted shrub to his right. “Is the Sorentino property fenced?”
Guess he already knew some details of the crime scene after all. Didn’t surprise Vaughn that Meyer did his research. He probably had a team of officers scouring Rachel’s personal information, trying to dig up dirt on her. Vaughn had looked her up in the system himself as a matter of due process after her father died. At the time, she hadn’t a single blemish to her name. Not even a speeding ticket.
“No, it’s not fenced,” he answered.
“Signed?”
Vaughn smacked his lips again, chewing the gum openmouthed for maximum effect. “Are you trying to tell me your biggest concern is whether or not I’m going to bring Junior up on criminal trespassing charges? That’s cute. And really”—Stupid? Pompous?—“short-sighted of you.”
“I’m not worried about you charging my boy with anything. I feel safe in assuming you’ll show the same understanding toward my son as you’ve so graciously done in the past.”
“True, true. My deputies and I have done our share of ignoring Junior’s growing pains over the years. But what happened today, I think you already realize, was a lot more than boys being boys or whatever bullshit logic we’ve used to excuse his delinquent behavior.” He blew a bubble and popped it with his teeth.
Sweat broke out on Meyer’s neck as he watched Vaughn’s mouth work the gum. Good. The fucker deserved to sweat it out. With any luck, Meyer would lose his cool right there in front of the Tucumcari hospital’s main entrance, with half his adoring public as witnesses.
Meyer glanced side to side and leaned in toward Vaughn. “It’s a give and take, Cooper. My officers and I have held up our end of the bargain by looking the other way with regard to your sister. If you pursue criminal charges against my son, I can no longer protect Gwen from the”—he ran the chew along the inside of his lower lip—“consequences of her criminal proclivities. Her sticky fingers are going to catch up with her one of these days.”
Here we go. Vaughn smiled his broadest smile, but his stomach took a dive. He hadn’t considered what this latest development would mean for Gwen. But he’d always known he couldn’t protect her forever. Especially now, with Rachel hurt. Not to mention that this case was the chance he’d been waiting twenty years for, the reason he’d first thought about a career in law enforcement as a bright-eyed sixteen-year-old—to crush Wallace Meyer Sr. and his entitled, arrogant family with the hammer of justice. Gwen would have to find a way to control herself, because it was time for Vaughn to play hardball.
He blew another bubble, then matched Meyer’s leanin—just two dudes sharing a secret. “I am profoundly grateful to you and your officers for the associative privileges you’ve afforded my sister.” He gave an exaggerated wink. Meyer sneered. Vaughn allowed his expression to turn taunting. “But there comes a time when we each must face up to the crimes we’ve committed, and there’s a big difference between shoplifting a candy bar and aggravated assault with a deadly weapon.”
Meyer pulled back, nodding. Yeah, he recognized the fight in Vaughn’s words. He knew Vaughn had dropped his gloves, prepared for a bare-knuckled battle. “Funny you should mention aggravated assault,” he said in an oily voice. It was his turn to grin maliciously. “In my estimation, that’s what Rachel Sorentino is going to be charged with.”
Damn, he hated hearing her name out of the bastard’s mouth, hated even more that she was on Meyer’s radar now. Even though she was justified in shooting Junior, there was no doubt in Vaughn’s mind her actions had marked her and her family for a lifetime of police harassment in Tucumcari. “Tut, tut, Chief. There you go, trying to do my job again. When are you going to get it into your huge melon that events outside your city’s limits are none of your business?”
The pink of Meyer’s ears flooded the rest of his face. When he spoke, his voice was thick with anger. “This is my damn business because it involves my damn son.”
Vaughn chewed, fake-contemplating Meyer’s words, and blew another bubble. It was a big one that popped with a crack. “I understand, Chief. Believe me, I do. And what I’d tell any concerned parent this early in an investigation is to go home and take care of your family, and let me do my job.”
He patted Meyer on the shoulder consolingly, then reached into his pocket. “Would you like a stick of gum? It’s spearmint.”
Meyer eyed the gum with a rabid look. Vaughn halfway thought he’d start foaming at the mouth. Tamping his giddiness, Vaughn held the gum aloft and kept smiling.
“You may think kicking me while my only child’s life hangs in the balance is something you can get away with, but you’re wrong,” Meyer hissed. “Seems you’ve forgotten who holds the power in this county. Don’t think it’s escaped my attention that you’re up for reelection this year. If you’re not careful, you’ll find yourself back to picking shit out of horse hooves like your parents.”
There it was, the look Vaughn had been waiting for. The real Wallace Meyer. The bastard Vaughn was going to nail to the wall. He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised. “Not exactly the insult you intend it to be, Chief.” If he could live his life with half as much happiness and love as his parents did, he’d consider his time on Earth a success. Of course, Meyer only saw their jobs and their economic standing, not the good, honest people they were.
“It’s good to know you feel that way, because after the November election, your time of power is over.”
“Yeesh. So dramatic. Guess I’d better make the most of my few remaining months in office.” He flipped open his wallet and withdrew three dollar bills, which he stuffed in Meyer’s shirt pocket. “Don’t forget to buy your wife that coffee. My treat.”
With a two-finger salute to his temple, Vaughn strode across the driveway to the parking lot. While he waited to question Junior, he’d use the laptop in his patrol car to look through the crime scene photos Binderman had found on Rachel’s camera.
Given the scope of Meyer’s influence, he could easily cost Vaughn his reelection. But he couldn’t let fear of the future weigh his choices. He’d waited his entire career for a chance to show the world the true nature of Meyer and his son. Call it a personal quest, but he saw it as his life’s work to strip rich, powerful bullies of their authority. If he lost November’s election bid, he’d start over on his quest somewhere else, and this final challenge to Meyer’s policy of corruption would stand as Vaughn’s local legacy.
He could only hope.
As soon as Meyer and the hospital coffee cart disappeared from view around the corner, Vaughn spit the wad of gum into a trash can and dialed Nathan Binderman, his buddy Chris’s younger brother and the latest member of Vaughn’s team. He could’ve radioed, which was their usual protocol, but it was impossible to know if one of Meyer’s lackeys were listening in.
“Binderman here.”
“You at the scene still?”
“Logging shell casings, sir. The number’s pushing forty. Looks like it was a hell of a gun battle.”
“What caliber are the casings?”
“Mostly 2-2-3s, with a half dozen .38s in the mix. The 2-2-3 casings line up with the images from the victim’s camera of the suspects and their firearms. Looks like they were packing AR-15s.”
Vaughn froze midstride. “AR-15s? What are a bunch of young, country hicks doing with assault rifles?” Damn, he was glad he didn’t know that sooner. He would’ve lost his composure for sure in front of Meyer. Rachel had been lucky to escape with her life with that many high-powered rifle bullets flying around. “Have you uploaded the camera’s photographs to my e-mail?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Has animal control been called about the horse’s body yet?”
“They’ve come and gone,” Binderman said. “I uploaded photographs I took of the horse and the canyon the body was found in.”
“Nice work. I’m on my way to take a look at the photos. You’re out of daylight. That going to be a problem for processing the scene?”
“No, sir. Kirby brought lights in before she and Molina took off. I’m set for the duration.”
“I’ll send Stratis to help you as soon as Meyer Jr.’s out of post-surgery observation.”
From the photographs on Rachel’s camera, Kirby had recognized one of the two men who fled the scene as Elias Baltierra, whom she’d arrested a couple years back for drug possession with intent to sell. She’d called Vaughn to get the green light to pursue the lead. With them chasing down suspects, Binderman processing the scene, and Reyes standing guard duty over de Luca’s hospital room, his department was spread as thin as it could go. And he hadn’t yet figured out who he could spare to stand watch outside Rachel’s door.
Vaughn opened his patrol car door and stood aside while the day’s hot air poured out. There was still no breeze to speak of, but at least the sun was setting. Maybe the temperature would drop below a hundred by the time the stars came out.
“Hey.” He turned to see Kellan striding his way, a murderous look in his eyes, the posture of his two hundred ripped pounds of six-foot-four body tense with fury. Kellan was about the only man Vaughn knew who could make his respectably muscled, six-foot-one frame feel puny.
Vaughn straightened to his full height. “Something tells me you’re not here to discuss the meal plan for Sunday’s barbecue.”
Scoffing, Kellan braced his hand on the roof of Vaughn’s car. “We’ve known each other a long time, and I’ve never seen you do anything this stupid.”
That got right to the point. The two of them had been inseparable friends since their early twenties after Kellan, a newly minted rancher in the area, hired Vaughn’s dad as a farrier. The day Vaughn stopped by his folks’ house to announce he’d been hired as a sheriff deputy, Kellan happened to be there, picking up some horseshoes. They went out for celebratory beers and the rest was history. He loved the guy like the brother he’d never had, and it looked like they were about to have a rare brotherly disagreement. “Not even that time we challenged those bikers to a game of pool and I called one of them Nancy?”
“Cut the act, Vaughn. You can’t play this one off with a joke.”
“I’m not playing anything off with a joke. Don’t insult me like I don’t fully grasp the stakes in this investigation.”
“If you’re so clear on the stakes, then why aren’t you recusing yourself?”
Vaughn propped a boot on the edge of the door opening, scowling. “It would be impossible for me to convey how deeply I regret confiding in you about my history with Rachel, because now you won’t let it go.”
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