“His old man. Who’s a sorry drunk. If you were from around here, you’d know the history. Anyway, tonight, he was worse off than usual. I had to call Crawford to come get him and cover his tab.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“You have no other dealings with Crawford Hunt?”
“Shit, no. I hate his guts. A few years back, he busted me for pubic lewdness. A guy can’t get a blowjob in his own car?”
“Who was the woman?”
“Can’t remember her name, but she could shrink-wrap your dick.”
“The woman with Hunt, you idiot.”
“Oh. The judge.”
“Holly Spencer?”
“She doesn’t look like any judge I ever faced. Firm tits, smokin’ ass.”
Otterman didn’t react for several seconds, then he cracked a smile that sent chills down Smitty’s spine. “You’re the expert on that.”
He forced himself to chuckle. “Well, I reckon everybody’s gotta be good at something.”
Otterman’s smile relaxed until it was no more. “The boys will see you out.”
With no more notice than that, “the boys” jerked him to his feet with such force his teeth clicked together. He was supported between them as they dragged him toward the door.
It occurred to Smitty in a moment of blinding, terrifying clarity that he’d forgotten the money pouch, and that, this time, he wasn’t leaving the fishing shack under his own power.
Crawford’s plea to his father-in-law had left the four of them in a bizarre freeze-frame. He was the first to move. He turned his head and looked at Holly. In a gruff voice, he asked, “Are you hurt?”
Astounded by the sudden turnabout, she looked at him with bafflement. “Hurt?”
“You lost your balance on the step.”
“Oh. No, I’m…I’m okay.”
Still holding her gaze, he said, “You understand now why I wanted you here, to see this, hear it.”
“I believe so.”
“I still want custody of Georgia. This doesn’t change that.” Turning back to his father-in-law, he said, “We’ll continue our fight, Joe. Once all this is over, we’ll pick up where you threw that last punch if that’s how you want it. But you’ve got to get Georgia away from here tonight. Right now.”
He lowered his knee so that it was no longer wedged between Joe’s thighs and withdrew his hand from the man’s chest. Having seen for herself the ferocity of Joe Gilroy’s hatred for Crawford, Holly halfway expected him to launch another physical attack. He didn’t, but his facial features remained granite hard, his eyes piercing.
He said, “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about. What’s happened?”
Rain had plastered Crawford’s hair to his forehead, but he seemed impervious to it and his wet clothes. “I know who the courtroom shooter was. So does Holly.”
Joe’s eyes cut to her. “It’s true,” she said. “I identified a Prentiss police officer as the gunman.”
“How’d you figure it out?”
“Too long to go into,” Crawford said. “But an hour or less after we made this discovery, he turned up dead. Murdered inside his house. And it wasn’t pretty.”
Grace made a mournful sound. “Let’s all sit down. I’ll make coffee.”
“There’s no time for coffee, Grace,” Crawford said. “Start gathering up only what you’ll absolutely need to take with you.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know. A few days, maybe.”
“Hold on, Grace,” Joe said when it appeared that she would do as Crawford asked. “I haven’t heard anything that compels me to pack up my family and sneak out of town in the middle of the night like a band of gypsies.”
“Can’t you for once just do something without having to be the fucking commander?”
Holly took a handful of Crawford’s shirt and pulled him backward, then stepped between him and his father-in-law. “Mr. Gilroy, Mrs. Gilroy,” she said, turning her head to include Grace, “we’ve concluded that I wasn’t the intended target in the courtroom. Crawford was.”
Joe glanced beyond her toward Crawford. “That doesn’t surprise me. But why, specifically?”
“Do you know a man named Chuck Otterman?” Crawford asked.
“I’ve heard of him, sure. Runs the drilling outfit? What’s he got to do with it?”
As concisely as possible, Holly explained the situation. “Crawford has Texas Rangers in the Houston office trying to determine what the connection is and why Otterman would conspire to have him killed.”
Crawford took over for her. “In the meantime, he called me.”
That took Holly aback. “The phone call you mentioned. It was Chuck Otterman?”
“I recognized his voice.” He repeated the brief conversation. “He said there was worse coming my way, and I take that threat seriously. Everything else he’s done has been a sick warning. The park video, trashing Georgia’s room, and—”
“Trashing her room?”
“Joe, we can’t explain it all now,” he said impatiently. “Bottom line, Neal Lester, for reasons of his own, and, in part, thanks to you, is trying to pin all this on me.”
“All I did was ask—”
“I know what you asked, and it was bullshit. But Neal has run with it. I slipped away tonight, but if he finds me, he can hold me for forty-eight hours before charging me, and if I’m in lockup, I can’t protect Georgia, and I go a little crazy when I think of Otterman getting near her. Touching her.”
“This threat you say he issued—”
“I don’t say it, he did it.”
“Okay, but he didn’t mention Georgia.”
“Dammit, Joe, are you willing to risk her life just to win an argument with me?”
“Don’t lay any of this on me,” the older man shouted back. “It’s a mess of your own making.”
Crawford closed his eyes briefly, and when he reopened them, they were bright with an intensity of feeling. “You gotta know how hard it is for me to come here and ask you for a goddamn thing, but you must put our quarrel aside and get Georgia out of here.” The older man opened his mouth to speak, but Crawford headed him off. “And it’s gotta be now.”
Holly divided a look between the two adversaries, still facing off, each as unbending as the other. Taking matters into her own hands, she walked over to Grace. “If you’ll show me where things are, I’ll help you pack.”
While Grace, Joe, and Holly hurriedly collected and packed essentials, Crawford moved from room to room, checking the street out front as well as the back of the property, watching for the stealthy approach of policemen or squad cars, because he figured Neal would eventually think to look for him here.
And so might Otterman or his emissaries.
At some point, Grace brought him a towel. He’d dried off as well as he could while remaining vigilant.
“Daddy?”
When Georgia spoke his name, he turned away from a window overlooking the street, and the sight of her caused a pinching pain in his heart. Holly had quietly gathered articles of clothing from her drawers and packed them in her suitcase, but they’d waited until the last possible moment to wake her up and get her dressed.
She looked sleepy and uncertain as she gazed up at him. Mr. Bunny was clutched to her chest.
“Grandma said we’re going on a trip. I don’t want to.”
“Sure you do.” Crawford picked her up and hugged her close. Her arms closed tightly around his neck, her legs around his waist.
“Can I go to your house?”
“Not this time.”
She laid her head on his shoulder and turned her face into his neck. This was tearing him apart, but he had to be the grown-up, the brave one. He infused his voice with false enthusiasm. “You’re going to have a great time.”
“That’s what Holly said.”
“She’s right. Grandma and Grandpa have lots of fun things planned. But you have to be a good girl and mind everything they say. Okay?”
“Why can’t you come?”
“Because I have to work. But I’ll be thinking about you the whole time, and wishing I was with you.” He felt her chest hitch with a small hiccup that presaged tears. He told himself she was crying from sleepiness, from being startled awake and confronted with a situation that was out of the ordinary and beyond her understanding. But whatever the reason, he couldn’t bear parting from her when she cried.
Rubbing circles on her back, he murmured into her hair, “Come on now. You’re going to be all right. Let’s get you into the car.”
“Will you carry me?”
He squeezed his eyes shut to keep his own tears inside. “You bet.”
Holding her tightly against him, he carried her through the house, now dark, and into the attached garage, where Joe was placing her suitcase, the last of the luggage, into the trunk. When he would have walked past Crawford without saying anything, Crawford addressed him.
His father-in-law stopped and looked at him.
“You’re the only person I trust to do this, Joe. I know you’ll protect her as fiercely as I would.”
Joe held his gaze, gave a curt nod, then got into the driver’s seat.
Without further delay, he carried Georgia to the backseat door, which Holly was holding open for them. He settled Georgia into her seat. When she started to reach for the straps, he said, “Let me buckle you in this time.”
“Mr. Bunny, too.”
“Of course.” He clicked the fasteners and made sure they were secure, then placed his hands on either side of her face and pressed his forehead against hers. “Be sweet for Daddy.”
“Okay.”
“I love you.”
“More than anything?” she asked, repeating what he often said.
“More than anything.” He kissed her forehead, her hair, her cheek, and finally her lips.
But when he tried to back away, she reached for him. “Daddy? Where we’re going, will you be there tomorrow?”
“Probably not tomorrow.”
“When?”
“As soon as I can get there.”
Then before he let her forlorn expression change his mind about the necessity of this separation, he kissed her again, quickly stepped back, and closed the car door. She placed her hand flat against the window glass. On the outside of it, he kissed her palm, then aligned his large hand with her tiny one, and they stayed that way until Joe backed the car out.
W
here will they go?” Holly asked as Crawford hustled her into her car.
The street was empty. Nearby houses were dark. From all appearances, no one had noticed their brief visit with the Gilroys. Even so, Crawford was scanning the area, alert to the motion of every leaf, the spatter of every raindrop.
“Grace’s sister recently remarried after years of widowhood. She lives with her new husband in a retirement community outside Austin.”
“They’re in for a long drive.”
“Five hours, give or take. Rain may slow them down. I hope Georgia sleeps most of the way.”
“I don’t know how you said good-bye to her without cracking.”
“I don’t know how I did, either.” He stared vacantly for a few seconds, then cleared his throat and indicated her ignition. “Get going. I need to be well away from here before Neal comes looking.”
“He’s called me.” Steering with her left hand, she used her right to pull her cell phone from the front pocket of her jeans and passed it over to him. “It had been vibrating, but I ignored it. I checked it while Grace was getting Georgia dressed, but I didn’t listen to the messages.”
“He’s left two,” he said. “And you have one text, but it’s from Marilyn.”
“Why would she be texting me?”
“Want me to read it?”
“Please.”
He pulled it up. “It says, ‘WTF is going on?’ Wording doesn’t sound like she’s trying to mend fences.”
“Call her for me, please.”
He used the phone to make the call, but it went through the Bluetooth speaker of the car. As soon as Marilyn answered, she blared, “Holly, thank God you called. I’ve been worried sick.”
“Why?”
“That detective called me. The tight-ass. Lester? Anyway, he was at your house and—”
“At my house? When was this?”
“One vodka and three cigarettes ago. He asked if I’d heard from you, and I told him no, that you were no longer my client, then he told me that you were missing and feared that you’d met with foul play. That’s how he put it. He mentioned the murder of a police officer. I’ve been going crazy here. Where are you? Are you all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine.”
“You’re not being made to say that under duress, are you?”
“No. However, I can’t talk now. There’s uh, uh…a situation that I really need to attend to. I apologize for the scare and appreciate your concern. Truly.”
She was about to disconnect using the button on her steering wheel, when Marilyn said, “The uh, uh situation involves him, doesn’t it? And don’t you dare insult me by asking who. The shooting was only the first shock to your system, wasn’t it? Mr. tall, blond, and badass was another.”
During the course of their conversation, Holly had been keeping her eyes on the road. Now she flicked a gaze over to Crawford, who was sitting as still as a stone beside her, his eyes fixed on her, taking in every word.
“Your silence is screaming at me, Holly,” Marilyn continued. “And what I’m hearing is conflict of interest, circumspection versus lust, a moral and ethical dilemma in spades. All of which are right up my alley!” she chortled. “I can’t wait to tackle them.”
“I fired you, remember?”
“Yes, but now I get why. You were protecting him.”
“From
you
.”
“Right, but I can back off that.”
“Listen, Marilyn—”
“No, you listen. You’re an excellent judge, Holly. Dedicated and idealistic. You actually believe in what you’re doing. And that’s not just me trying to woo you back, I happen to mean it. You should be in that job.”
“After this week, I’m afraid Governor Hutchins will rethink his endorsement. Greg Sanders has suggested that I make a graceful exit to save face.”
“No way in hell. The governor’s blessing is a stroke we can always use, but I can get you elected without it. Hell, I might even do something totally revolutionary in politics and awe the voting public with the truth.
“Sometimes that’s actually the best approach. Hide in plain sight. I’ll be thinking about our strategy. In the meantime, tend to this ‘situation’ with the Texas Ranger. He’s a rude bastard, but he definitely has appeal. When you need me, I’ll be ready.”
After the disconnect, she couldn’t avoid Crawford’s grin. “You called me tall, blond, and badass?”
“I didn’t, Marilyn did.”
“Will you hire her back?”
“I don’t know. More importantly, did you hear the part about Neal being at my house?”
“Yeah.” His grin faded as he sighed. “I should have left you out of this, but I couldn’t rely on Grace to back me up. Joe could’ve browbeat her into claiming that I had relinquished Georgia to them without any stipulation that it was temporary.
“I needed you there, but I hate further involving you in what Joe correctly called a mess of my making. Although hell if I know what I did to piss off Otterman, a man I’d never even seen before he walked into the police station.”
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Looking at his profile, she was struck by how utterly fatigued he appeared. There were dark crescents under his eyes. The hollows beneath his cheekbones were more pronounced than usual.
She asked, “When did you sleep last?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You’re exhausted.”
“Joe’s no pushover, and I’ve fought him twice today. Then the episode with my old man. None of my run-ins with him are easy. But what really took it out of me was having to tell Georgia good-bye.”
“Which you’ve also done twice today.”
“Both times wrenching. Tonight was different, though. She sensed something was wrong. I goddamn hate that she’s worried. I couldn’t promise her when I would see her again, and the fact is…”
“The fact is?”
“If Otterman has his way, I never will.”
Suddenly, he sat up straight and opened his eyes, the darkened sockets making them look extraordinarily bright with resolve. Thumping his fist on his thigh in time to his words, he said, “I can’t let that happen. I may not regain custody of her, but I’ll go to hell and back before checking out on her.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Stay alive. Stay underground long enough to get Otterman before he gets me.”
“How do you intend to go about that?”
“That’s the tricky part. I’m working on it.”
“You could turn yourself in to Neal. Enlist his help.”
“No way. He’s bowed his back on Otterman.”
“Maybe he’s changed his mind.”
“I can’t chance it. I’d be hamstringing myself.”
“There’s nothing I can say that will change your mind?”
“Sorry, Holly, no.”
She pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to face him. “Then you need to get out.”
Crawford watched Holly’s taillights disappear, then struck off walking swiftly, hoping to blend into the darkness and keep from being seen. First order of business was to find shelter from the rain. He covered a couple of blocks before coming upon a vacant house with a “For Sale” sign in the yard.
Crouching against the back wall of the open carport, he called Harry Longbow and woke him up.
“Sorry, man,” the other Ranger said around a yawn, “still haven’t turned up squat. Not a thread connecting Otterman to you, or to anyone close to you. But I had to get some shut-eye. I called to let you know that I was taking a break, but got your voice mail.”
“I had to leave my phone behind.”
“Aw, hell. That doesn’t sound good.”
“Pat Connor’s turned up dead, and Otterman issued me a threat.”
Harry grumbled, “There goes my nap.”
Crawford gave him the rundown. “I got Georgia out of town. That was top priority.”
“Where’re you and the judge now?”
‘She’s on her way home.”
“What about you?”
“If you don’t know, you can’t tell. It will occur to Neal to ask if you’ve heard from me. I’m surprised he hasn’t called you already. When he does, you can honestly tell him that you don’t know where I am or what my plans are.”
“I’ll bring Sessions up to speed, so he won’t be taken unawares.”
“Thanks.”
“Maybe you ought to let the prick take you into custody. Jail’s at least safe.”
“It’s also sorta confining.”
“There’s that.”
“How’s the major taking it that I’m implicated in a murder?”
“Says it’s about the deepest bullshit he’s ever had to wade through. He’s calling Neal Lester bad names, and he hasn’t even met him yet.”
Any other time, Crawford would have laughed. But the situation was no laughing matter. “I’m attributing Chet, Rodriguez, and now Connor to Otterman. A body count of three, just this week. I want this son of a bitch, Harry.”
“I’ll get right back on it.”
“No, finish your nap. Otterman is probably regrouping tonight, too. He had a busy day. The park video. The titty bar meeting.”
“The execution.”
“He didn’t shoot the video and he didn’t pop Connor. He doesn’t do his own dirty work. He’s got Frick and Frack.”
“Who’re they?”
“A pair of bodyguards. And then there are the Pat Connors.”
“Facilitators too dumb to say no to him?”
“Too scared, maybe. You know what this is feeling like? Organized crime shit.”
“I’m liking this asshole less and less,” Harry said.
“Me too.”
“Keep your head down.”
Crawford gave him the number of his burner phone, then used it to make another call and impatiently counted the rings until Smitty’s nasal twang instructed him to leave a message.
Crawford said only, “You know who this is. Call me back, or your shriveled pair are history.”
He clicked off, checked the time, then pulled up the collar of his windbreaker and plunged into the rain.