Bone Dry (Blanco County Mysteries) (7 page)

“I know you do, and I appreciate it. That’s sweet. But I’m doing all right, really.” She gave a little laugh. “It’s just that when I talk to you, my emotions tend to get out of hand a little. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize, Becky. You know I’m here to talk whenever you want. I just wish I could do more. Sometimes I feel like I’m letting you down.”

“Don’t say that, John. You could never let me down. If anything, it’s the other way around.”

Marlin assured her this wasn’t the case, even as a wave of melancholy washed over his heart. Sometimes, when he was upset, he felt that she was right, that she
was
letting him down. After all, she was the one who had left. Four months ago, when Becky had first learned of her mother’s illness, she had packed a few things and headed for Dallas. It was to be a temporary stay, just an extended visit to help her mother through the crisis. But when Becky had discovered the true condition of Margaret’s health, she had decided to remain with her until the end. Becky would come home on weekends and as the weeks went by, Marlin began to notice a change in her mood. She continued to be distraught about her mother—but professionally, she seemed to be elated.

She had taken a nursing position, a short-term contract, at a hospital in Dallas, one of the top facilities in the Southwest.
It’s so exciting, John,
he remembered her saying.
This hospital is absolutely amazing. It’s making me remember why I became a nurse to begin with.
Marlin had known that Becky hadn’t been happy with her job at Blanco County Hospital. It was a small, unimpressive facility, where the most challenging case might be a kid getting his tonsils removed, or an elderly person with the flu. The tougher cases went to Austin or San Antonio. Becky had considered returning to her old job in San Antonio, at the hospital where she was working when Marlin had met her. But it was more than an hour’s drive each way, a longer commute than she had wanted to make on a daily basis.

The last time Marlin and Becky talked, she’d told him the hospital had made her an offer. They wanted her on the permanent staff. The salary was outstanding, the benefits were excellent, and the career potential was enormous. She would be able to work on the kinds of cases she had always dreamed of.
Have you accepted the offer?
Marlin had asked. She hadn’t. She wanted time to think it over. Now, with this phone call, Marlin figured her thinking was done.

“How’s the job?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.

“It’s great,” she said and took a deep breath. “And I’ve decided to take the offer.”

Both of them were silent for a moment. Marlin wanted to tell her she was doing the wrong thing, that he loved her and wanted her back by his side. He even considered—as he had in the past—asking her to marry him. But that would never resolve the problem at hand: Becky was an independent, career-minded woman, and Blanco County simply didn’t hold anything for her.

Marlin said quietly, “I know it’s what you wanted, Becky. Good for you. I’m proud of you.”

But Becky was choking up again. “This just isn’t fair,” she said. “I can’t live in Blanco County…and you wouldn’t be happy anywhere else.”

And, of course, she was right. Marlin had considered asking for a transfer to the next available game-warden position anywhere near Dallas. But it was a fleeting thought. There was no way he could ever leave his hometown. His roots were too deep.

“So I guess that’s it, then,” Marlin said.
No sense in dragging this out,
he thought. It would only make it more painful.

“You know I would do it differently if I could. I love you very much, John.”

“I love you, too. Good luck with everything.”

“Thanks.”

“You take care of yourself. I’m sure I’ll see you again sometime....”

“I know you will, John. Oh, what are we saying? I’ve still got to come back down there and pick up the last of my things. I’ll try to do that in the next few weeks.”

“That sounds fine.” Marlin said. They each said a sad goodbye, and he cradled the phone. The house seemed so quiet and empty.
Hell, it’s no big deal,
Marlin thought. He had lived alone for years. It was nice to have a woman like Becky around, but he knew he’d be able to handle her leaving. Just had to get back in the groove of being single again.

He sat in the quiet house for a moment, and then his eye wandered to the bottle of Wild Turkey perched on top of the refrigerator. It had been weeks since he’d had a good stiff drink.

And right now he could use one.

Make people fear you.

Vinnie Mameli could remember his dad telling him that as if it were yesterday.

Actually, though, it was three years ago, when his father took Vinnie out to dinner one night, ordered linguini and clams for the both of them, then calmly revealed what he did for a living. Vinnie always suspected there was more to his dad than the concrete business. But for his dad to take him into his confidence—to lay all the cards on the table—was quite a rush for a seventeen-year-old already buzzing from too much wine.
You’re a man now, Vinnie,
Sal Mameli told him.
And a man needs to know certain things to get by in this world.

On that night, and on many nights since, Sal had done his best to share his wisdom with the boy.

A bribe will almost always get the job done. And if a bribe don’t work, a threat will.

Surround yourself with people you can trust. But never completely trust anyone but yourself.

No matter how much you hated the guy, always go to his funeral.

And Vinnie’s favorite:
Respect may work for the Pope, but not for you and me. Fear is better. Make people fear you.

And that’s exactly what Vinnie had in mind Monday night when he drove toward Emmett Slaton’s house, dressed head to toe in black. He would show the old douche bag that you don’t fuck around with the Mamelis. Before Vinnie was done, the old geezer would be begging to sell his business.

Vinnie spotted the entrance to Buckhorn Creek Ranch and slowly idled past. Two hundred yards farther down the road, he found another ranch entrance. He knew the place was a deer lease, not a residence, so nobody would be coming or going at this hour. He pulled into the entrance and killed the engine.

Five minutes later, Vinnie was positioned in a grove of cedar trees a hundred yards from Emmett Slaton’s front door. The porch light was on, and the interior lights said Slaton hadn’t gone to bed yet. Now it was a waiting game. Vinnie had no problem with that. He’d wait out here all night if it would make his dad happy. Vinnie was proud to be in charge of such an important mission, and equally proud that his dad had left the specifics up to him.
Just do whatever you gotta do to get that bastard to make a deal. But watch your ass. We don’t need any heat on us. And let me know when you’re gonna pull somethin’, so’s I can have an alibi.

Vinnie was enjoying these thoughts when the front door of the home opened and Slaton’s Doberman pinscher trotted out. From his hiding spot, Vinnie caught a glimpse of Slaton before the door swung shut.

Vinnie had chosen his location carefully: The wind was in his face to prevent the dog from scenting him.

The dog pranced away from the house, found a small sapling, and took a long leak. Then, nose to the ground, he sniffed a path through the grass, coming in Vinnie’s direction.

When the dog was about thirty yards away, Vinnie opened a Ziploc bag, removed the contents, and tossed it toward the mutt. When the projectile hit the ground, the dog stopped abruptly and let out a small, surprised bark. Vinnie shrunk back into the trees.

Vinnie knew this was the moment of truth. In the next few minutes, his plan would either unfold smoothly—or it would fall to pieces.

Finally, after staring intently into the darkness, the dog cautiously approached the interesting object on the ground.