The Grey Man- Partners Page 10

“Michelle, Mike. Yep, back on full duty and playing catch up. Y’all been busy?”

  Wilson shrugged and Michaels laughed, “It’s early yet, Captain. You know how Fridays can get around here. It’ll either be feast or famine. I’m kinda hoping for famine.”

  Wilson chimed in, “Hey Sarge, you only have to follow-up the paperwork. Us grunts are out here doing the work. And famine would be nice. I’ve been getting writer’s cramp lately with all the tickets we’ve been writing.”

  Clay and the old man both chuckled, and Clay asked, ‘Michelle, what are you doing up here? You usually run ten, not twenty.”

  Michelle smiled, “Catering to my boss,” pointing to Michaels, “He’s going off and I’ve got an hour before I actually go on. So I’m sucking up.”

  Mike Michaels spit coffee laughing at that, and started a retort when a panting disheveled truck driver came running over, “Officer, there’s something in the parking lot you gotta see. I think there’s a problem.”

  All four of them jumped up and followed the driver, catching bits and pieces of what he was saying, “IDC trucks… Hand… Ain’t movin’…”

  Coming around the last row of trucks, they looked up and sure enough, there was a hand sticking out of the vent door at the top of one of the IDC truck’s trailer. The old man looked at the trailer latches, realized they were locked and said, “We’re going to need to pop the locks.” Pulling his radio out, he quickly flipped to LAW#1 channel and keyed the mic, “Ward County dispatch, Pecos car four on Law One. Monahan’s Truck Stop. Need to roll a unit and at least one ambulance to the back row of trucks.”

  The dispatcher came back immediately, “Roger Pecos four, do you need DPS?”

  “Negative, DPS is on scene. We have a hand sticking out of a trailer vent door. Trying to access trailer now. Standby for further.”

  "Ward County, go ahead, Pecos four."

  “White IDC truck, unmarked trailer. Copy Texas tag.” The old man gave the plate of the trailer, and said, "Stand by for the tractor tag," as he swiftly walked to the front of the rig to read off the tag on the front bumper of the semi that the trailer was hitched to.

  Clay came screeching around the line of trucks in his car, slammed to a stop, and jumped out with a pair of bolt cutters. He handed them to Michaels, who made quick work of both locks on the trailer door latches. They popped the doors open carefully, and were assailed by the stench of waste products and heard screaming, crying and pleas for help overlapping each other from the inside of the trailer, which appeared to be full of boxes of TVs.

  Not knowing what they had, but seeing the limp arm over the top of the boxes on the right side of the trailer, they began pulling boxes quickly off the truck until Michaels could stand up in the trailer. He continued to move boxes to get to the hand, as they heard sirens in the distance. Finally, Wilson also climbed into the trailer, and began moving boxes to go forward toward the noise, calling in Spanish for them to be quiet.

  Michaels finally got enough boxes moved that he could get to the owner of the hand, a young man, but the man didn’t appear to be moving. Gently lowering him down to Clay and the old man, he shook his head. Clay and the old man laid him gently behind a line of boxes on the ground after determining he was dead, and had been for at least a couple of hours judging from the lividity on the body.

  Wilson had finally moved enough boxes to have a small passageway forward, and was assailed by a fresh blast of waste. Shining her light in, the men heard her cussing vehemently. “Sumbitching bastards, gonna need help up here. Got between twenty and thirty women and kids in here.”

  The old man was keying the radio again when a Ward County car turned the corner of the trucks, followed by an ambulance. Rather than report it, he decided to let the Ward County officer handle it. As he turned toward the car, somebody grabbed his shoulder and spun him around, “What the fuck are you doing to my trailer, you assho…”

  The man shut up suddenly when the old man put his 1911 between his eyes rather forcefully, “On the ground, on your belly, now!”

  Deputy Ernesto Valdez came out of his car gun drawn, “What you got, Captain?”

  “Cuff and stuff this one Ernesto. We’ve got what is probably a truck load of illegals with at least one dead.”

  “Shit.” Keying his radio, Valdez called dispatch and activated the mass casualty tree, reinforcing with dispatch that it was not a drill, and requesting extra ambulances and the morgue wagon. Cuffing the driver, he shoved him in the back of his car and hustled back to help Michaels, Wilson, Clay and the old man get people out of the trailer. A half hour later, the last body had been brought out, and a total of twenty-eight living and four dead had been stuffed into less than forty square feet in the front of the trailer.

  Sheriff Allen showed up with a school bus, driven by one of the school mechanics, and they checked each person for weapons, then loaded the twenty-eight remaining survivors on the bus. Assigning two deputies to ride the bus to the hospital, he called dispatch to have Monahans PD respond and also asked dispatch to activate the reserve deputies and send half of them to the hospital for security and guard duty.

  He walked over and looked down at the four blanket covered bodies, then carefully pulled the blankets up enough to see what lay beneath. Two of them were very small, and the sheriff came over cussing, “Kids, dammit, why does it have to be kids?” He nodded to the troopers and said, “John, Clay, what’s y’alls involvement in this?”

  The old man looked at Clay, who nodded, “Jason, we were just having dinner, and talking with Troopers Michaels and Wilson when a driver ran in saying he’d seen a hand sticking out of a trailer. I got on Law One and called your dispatch, while we got the trailer open. The troopers climbed in the trailer and Clay and I handled things on the ground.”

  Clay said, “We were cheap labor Jason, not our case. It’s either y’alls or DPS. I’ll call and see if our CID wants in.”

  Allen shook his head, “Just what we need. I’ve got a call in to Border Patrol and they are supposedly responding.” Looking around, he spat, “But as usual, who knows when they’ll get here. Who’s got the details?”

  The old man pointed at Deputy Valdez, “Ernesto, and he’s got the driver cuffed and stuffed. I don’t think he’s even questioned him yet. Figured the priority was getting the live ones to the hospital.”

  “You’re kinda an expert in this John, what do you think?”

  “Coyotes. These are Hondurans and Guatemalans, probably smuggled across the border around El Paso or Arizona, put in the trailer and locked in. My guess is the driver doesn’t know anything. He was probably told to pick up a sealed trailer, and drop it somewhere, maybe Forth Worth, or Dallas, or Oklahoma City.”

  The old man scuffed his boot, “Looks like they’ve been cooped up in the truck for three days, and only had a couple of gallons of water. No food other than a few burritos. I think the one man that died decided getting out was more important than making it to where ever they were going. He apparently crawled to the back sometime yesterday or maybe early today. He pretty much cooked up there.”

  Sheriff Allen asked, “You want to do the investigation for us?”

  The old man held up his hands, “Nope, I’ll help Monte if he needs it, but this is his, or DPS CID or Ranger CID. This whole thing is a set piece. I think they shoved more than usual in there, it’s about the size we’ve seen for twenty, and they had what, thirty-two stuffed in there? There isn’t even room for anybody to lay down. It was probably supposed to be a straight through trailer, no stops, but that didn’t happen. I’m betting you’re going to find drugs in the trailer too. Sinaloa is probably the cartel that did this, so I’d get a drug dog down here before I let any of these boxes get moved out of here.”

  “Why, John? Why do they do it?”

  The old man shrugged, “Money. At their normal prices, that’s about a hundred and ninety thousand on the hoof right there, prepaid. There’s a good possibility those boxes are going to have a couple of million wor
th of either heroin or coke. Now that I think of it, you need to call Bucky and get him to send some folks out here to tear the trailer apart.”

  The sheriff thanked them both, shook their hands and turned to the troopers. Clay was extracting his car, and the old man walked slowly back to the restaurant. Looking at his watch, he realized it’d been a couple of hours and he picked up the pace, knowing Yogi was probably going nuts and needed to go do his business. He got Yogi and took him over to the pet area, as Clay parked beside his car.

  After Yogi finished his business and the old man cleaned it up, he brought Yogi over to Clay, who played with him for a minute or two. Michaels and Wilson came slowly up the walk and joined them. Michelle went down on her knees and hugged Yogi, allowing him to lick her as she buried her head in his ruff.

  Michaels finally said, “If I ever make a comment about feast or famine again, somebody shoot me please. Damn.”

  Wilson chimed in, “Amen to that! I’ll even shoot you with your gun!”

  Clay and the old man laughed, and Wilson finally stood up, “I hate shit like this. Especially the dead kids.” Turning to the old man she asked, “How do you deal with this, Captain? I know you’ve been doing it a long time.”

  Sobered, the old man said, “I just do the best I can to remember the good things, Michelle. That’s one of the reasons I always sit on the front porch in the morning with a cup of coffee. It’s calm and quiet, I can look out over the land and see the sun rising. That grounding and my faith are what have kept me sane all these years. You’re going to have nightmares, you just can’t let them beat you, or drive you into booze or drugs.”

  Reaching down and petting Yogi, he said, “Get a dog. Not a cat, a dog. They love you unconditionally and they’ll defend you with their lives. They’ll also ground you and give you a reason to care.”

  Clay nodded, “Yep, animals help. They don’t ask dumb questions, and there’s the starfish story…”

  Wilson and Michaels both looked at him and Wilson said, “Starfish?”

  Clay said softly, “It’s about an old man and starfish. Go look it up.”

  Michaels and Wilson’s radios both went off, and Clay’s phone rang at the same time. Clay stepped away to be able to hear, and the old man heard the DPS dispatch saying a CID team was on the way, and DPS would take the lead on the case. The old man shook his head as he watched both of their faces fall, knowing they would be here for hours now. Michaels rogered up for the DPS lead, and reminded dispatch that they would need to replace Trooper Wilson on I-Ten.

  Clay walked back up, “Well, looks like DPS got it. I get to go home now,” he said with a smile. “I’m too old for these long days and nights.”

  Wilson looked around, then stuck out her tongue at Clay, prompting laughter from everyone. Turning to Michaels, she asked, “Can’t we keep him here and make him fill out a witness statement or something, oh sergeant of mine?”

  Michaels snorted, “Ah, no. Your daddy may be his boss, but I am not going to step into that briar patch. Ranger, if you and Captain Cronin could get us statements by tomorrow that should be fine.”

  Clay and the old man both nodded, and left while the leaving was good.

  Wives Club

  Aaron had finally fallen back to sleep after taking another pain pill, and Jesse was worried about the swelling and bruising in the stump. Aaron seemed to think it was expected, and only asked that Jesse take Jace to daycare, as he didn’t think he could manage Jace’s running around and getting into things in his condition.

  Jesse looked around the living room one last time to make sure Jace’s toys were all up out of Boo Boo’s reach before she headed out the door. Jace was already in the stroller, and Boo Boo was licking Jace’s face, causing him to laugh and push the dog away. Jesse just shook her head, thinking about what some of the nuts would say about letting a dog lick a baby.

  She’d grown up on a ranch, and been licked by cows, horses, and dogs, and none of those killed her. It frustrated her to watch the news programs or hear the ‘new’ mantras about shielding kids from germs. She remembered her biology professor saying that early introduction to germs was good for a child’s immune system and it would help them later in life.

  Jesse put Jace in his car seat, gave him his juice cup and looked at her watch. Seeing that she was barely on time, she drove quickly to the child care facility and dropped Jace off, along with a lunch for him that she hoped he’d actually eat and not throw all over the place. The throwing stage was getting tiring, even if Aaron thought it was cute.

  Back in the car, she headed to Darlene and Mike’s house, getting there five minutes early. Smiling, she walked through the garage and knocked on the garage door. She heard a shouted “Come in”, and walked through the laundry into the kitchen.

  Darlene was, as usual, running behind. Standing at the kitchen counter, she looked at Jesse and said, “Don’t judge me. I was up ‘til three playing with a new design.”

  Jesse held up both hands, “Not judging. Not at all. Nope.”

  Darlene laughed ruefully, “My mind works in strange ways, and the middle of the night seems to be my most productive time. Do me a favor and let Marl in when she gets here. I’m going to shower and get ready. I’ll be done in fifteen, I promise!”

  Jesse just smiled as Darlene raced down the hall. She saw Marlene pulling into the driveway, and walked to the garage door, opened it and waved at Marlene.

  Marlene came through the door juggling a bunch of papers, shoved them at Jesse, “Here’s all the stuff I had from last month. I swear this is everything.”

  Jesse sat down and flipped through the stack, then said, “Bank statement?”

  “Ah crap! I thought I’d printed that out. I’ll get Darl… Oh never mind. I’ll bring it by later.”

  Jesse reminded her, “It’s quarterly tax time. I’ve got to get your paperwork filed by Wednesday. It isn’t like this is a surprise.”

  Marlene moaned, “I know, I know. It’s just hard to keep track of it. It’s not like we’ve really done this stuff before.”

  Jesse replied, “Yeah, but y’all weren’t making the money you are now, and I hate to think how much money y’all lost to taxes that you didn’t have to.”

  Marlene saw the new pieces lying on the counter and grabbed them, walking to the kitchen window, “Oh, this came out nice! But now I wonder how durable they’re going to be.”

  Jesse just leaned back against the counter and watched as Marlene drifted into designer mode, and thought, It is true, creative people are totally different from the rest of us. They live in their own worlds, and only occasionally visit reality, as we know it. They are pretty much a matched pair too, but I really feel sorry for Mike. Darlene is even worse, and I wonder how they’ve lasted almost thirty years.

  Darlene bustled down the hall, “I’m ready. Marl, we need to talk about your design. I made a few changes…” She and Marlene continued as they walked out to Marlene’s car, and Jesse reached into the GTO, grabbing the Wives Club books on the way by. During the short ride to the club for the luncheon, Jesse thought they’d probably redesigned the piece of jewelry completely.

  Walking into the club, Jesse split off to talk to the manager and find out how much she needed to write the check for. Once she got the amount and invoice, she headed to the private room they’d reserved and caught up with the ‘Lenes, “Today is four hundred thirty-one bucks. Lemme write the check and get y’all’s signatures.”

  Jesse quickly caught the books up to current, and went to the buffet, checking the line to make sure what they were being charged for was what was actually being served, Ah, rubber chicken again. And some kind of fish, not going there. The usual wilted vegetables, and leftover cakes. And rice, and I have no idea what that is.

  Darlene called the meeting to order, and the business portion was quickly completed. Then all the women went through the buffet, and back to their tables as the servers moved through the room with tea and coffee. Jesse reached for the sugar,
knowing the tea was not sweetened, and grumbled to herself about California and the lack of sweet tea. Pawing through the little packets, she only found one packet of real sugar. Darlene reached for the next setting and pulled that bowl over, then handed it to Jesse, “Looking for real sugar again?”

  “Yes! What is it with these people? Are they afraid of sugar or what?”

  Marlene honked a laugh, “Is California, fake is better.”

  Jesse sniffed, “Yeah, right. It’s bad enough that they don’t make sweet tea, and they serve us rubber chicken, but dammit I like my tea with real sugar!”

  Darlene introduced the guest speaker from the Red Cross, and she walked them through the procedures for making Red Cross notifications for the service members, and passed out a crib sheet with applicable phone numbers and emails on it. The lady then gave a pitch for volunteers, and how they could help the entire community, along with a video of the work the Red Cross had done during the fires the year before in Southern California.

  Jesse thought, She’s a good speaker, and obviously dedicated to the cause. And dammit, it is a good cause. I guess today it’s hard to find folks that will actually give up any time to help their neighbors. Not like it is at home. I need to ask the chief what the department’s relationship is with the Red Cross. I don’t know that it ever came up.

  The luncheon was breaking up, and small groups were chatting in various places as Jesse and the ‘Lenes picked up their papers and started heading for the door. Lissa McKenzie came charging back into the room tears in her eyes, almost knocking Jesse down, “Damn them, damn them to hell.”

  Jesse grabbed her, “What is it Lissa?” Just as she asked that, Darlene’s phone went off, and she set her papers down, digging for the phone in her purse.

  Lissa looked at Jesse, “You don’t know?”

  “Know what?” Jesse asked impatiently.

  “They just decertified both teams. Mac just called me, they’ve been decertified for combat, and they are going to be refoc… Reformed.”