El Gavilan (41 page)

Eventually, mutual trust allowed topics to spread further, but maybe more in one direction than another. Able was already plying Thalia with ricochet freebies: coupons, discount cards and sundry vouchers for myriad perks that helped her stretch her stingy paycheck.

Thalia reciprocated the only way she knew how: she became
El Gavilan
’s eyes and ears within the local Latino community. Able never sought this of Thalia—she’d volunteered it, really. But by the same token, Able didn’t turn down her services to that end.

It was to the credit of their relationship’s underlying foundation that Thalia didn’t feel used; that Hawk didn’t first solicit Thalia’s cooperation as … as … Well, what other word for it than …
that
? “Snitching” was
such
a squalid word for what she was doing, Thalia told herself. Yet it was exactly like
that
.

The point was that Able Hawk never asked that of her. It just … developed. They were like that together each late morning. Unguarded, trusting, candid. Thalia knew Able was the only one she was like that around. She suspected she saw those same sides of Able in a way no other did. There were no secrets between them.

Well, that was so until she learned of Luisa’s relationship with Able’s grandson, Amos. When she learned that Lusia was pregnant by Amos, she was torn between keeping their secret and telling Able what was unfolding behind his back.

Each passing day—and the reality of Luisa’s growing belly—made it that much harder. Thalia kept promising herself the next day would be the day she would confide to Able what was going on. With only a few weeks remaining until the baby wailed its way into the world, time was running out for Thalia.

Each morning as she stood under the shower’s spray, she vowed to herself,
Today is the day I tell Hawk.
Each night that pledge was amended to
Tomorrow will be the day.
She made that same promise to herself for four consecutive nights.

As she watched Hawk sitting with the other two sheriffs that last morning, she finally found the resolve she knew would see her through it the next morning. Watching Able savor his banana cream pie—aware that short fat sheriff with the rings was watching her—Thalia promised herself that the next morning she’d at last tell Able how it was. Maybe pointing out they were becoming something like official family would make it go down easier for the proud, tough old man.

Thalia promised herself, Tomorrow for certain. Tomorrow. It will change everything between us. But tomorrow he’ll learn the truth. Tomorrow he’ll see. He’ll see it all.

FIFTY SIX

Troy looked around the room—Shawn had left no obvious note. The deputy felt under his own pillow and confirmed that his gun was gone.

Fuck
! Troy figured he’d lose his badge over that.

Cursing, he wheeled over to Shawn’s bed and pulled the laptop onto his own lap and looked around the computer’s desktop. No suicide note there, either. Troy opened up Microsoft Word and checked the Recent Document menu and found nothing. Apparently, Shawn must have been planning his exit for a while. No suicide note, no columns. No stories and no notes.
Nothing
. Seemed to Troy that Shawn had given up on writing along with everything else.

Troy saw the icon flashing in the corner, indicating Shawn had e-mail. He checked and found two e-mails, still unopened. One was a free offer for Cialis. The other was from Able Hawk, requesting a meeting with Tell Lyon at eight
P.M.

Troy checked the wall clock—three fifteen
P.M.
He searched around through Shawn’s Sent file and found an earlier Able Hawk e-mail had been transmitted to Tell Lyon’s fiancée, Patricia. He forwarded Able’s newest note to Patricia. He was about to delete the original e-mail when he heard the voice:

“Take your hands off that fucking laptop right now or so help me I’ll shoot you where you sit you incompetent fucking grunt.”

Sheriff Walt Pierce seized the laptop with fat, jewel-spangled fingers. He got in close to Troy’s face. “I find anything in the trash of this fucking computer, I’m going to burn you down even further than I aim to for leaving your fucking sidearm where that reporter could get at it and shoot my murder suspect. Jesus, but you are a sorry fucking fuck-up.”

* * *

Tell’s cell phone rang. Julie Dexter: bless her, she’d finally called him on a secure line from the jump.

Tell listened, half-sick as she told him about Shawn’s suicide; about Shawn’s murder of Jésus Acosta.

Then Julie told him of a reported shooting at Able Hawk’s house. Julie said she had no further word yet on that front. She did know emergency squads had been dispatched, but that was all Julie knew.

Tell slammed on the brakes and kicked his cruiser into a skidding U-turn.

Fuck Walt Pierce and his demands on Able Hawk. Tell couldn’t avoid a crime scene in his own jurisdiction, not if someone had taken a shot at Able Hawk.

He was two miles from Able’s house. He hit the siren and said to Julie, “I’m headed to Hawk’s now. Get Rick over to County General to see what he can do around the Horton and Vale County sheriffs already there. Then get Billy to meet me at Able’s.”

Tell made good time reaching Able’s house. He was a block away when he passed an ambulance tearing off in the other direction.

Christ
—that meant a transport.
Someone
had been hit.

A second ambulance followed closely behind; it was going fast too.
Two casualties
.

Tell skidded to a stop in front of the Hawk house. Two Horton County sheriff’s squad cars were already there, securing the scene. As he climbed out of his cruiser, Tell saw some empty cartridge casings lying in the street. He called to a female deputy and pointed them out to her. “Don’t let any kids take these as damned souvenirs. Could be prints on them.”

Tell ran up to the house. Sofia was sitting on the porch step, crying. There was blood on the driveway, on the open door panel of Able’s bullet-riddled Impala. The rear of the Chevy was pocked with bullet holes. So was the garage door and front of the house. Tell saw more holes in the trunk of an old pin oak.

It had to have been an automatic weapon.

“Sofia,” Tell said, trotting up next to her, pointing behind himself, “who was in those ambulances?”

Between sobs, she told Tell that Able was riding in the ambulance with his grandson, Amos. Able had been inside the house and was unharmed. Amos had been hit “several times.” Amos had been alive when the ambulance pulled out, Sofia said, but his wounds were severe.

Tell said, “Was Amos out here alone when the shots were fired?”

Sofia shook her head. “Evelia was with him. She was inside the car when the shooting started. She said Amos told her to get on the floor. She’s scared … so scared. But she wasn’t hurt. She’s next door, with neighbors.”

“Who was in the second ambulance, Sofia?”

“My niece,” Sofia said. “The shock—well, she’s gone into labor. I need to get there. I need to get there,
Jefe
.”

Tell looked around the crime scene. The street was swarming with Horton County sheriff’s deputies. Seven more deputies had arrived since Tell had made the scene.

He was arguably redundant here. Tell took her arm and helped her to her feet. “Come on, Sofia, Able’s people will see to this. You come with me. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

He took her arm and helped her up. She was shaking and bent over; a mess. His cell phone rang. Julie Dexter again.

Julie said, “Chief, I have a woman on the line who says she knows who attacked Sheriff Hawk’s house.”

What?
Tell said, “Put her through, would you, Julie?”

He saw Billy and waved him over. He said, “Bill, take Sofia here to County General. Able Hawk’s grandson has been shot and Sofia’s niece is in emergency labor. See Sofia gets anything she needs there and don’t let anyone put her off, yeah? You’re with her until I say otherwise.”

Sofia said, “Evelia? I want her to come with me.”

Billy said to Sofia, “Just point me—I’ll fetch her.”

Tell clapped Billy’s back in farewell and said into his cell phone, “We connected?”

“
Jefe
Léon?” The voice was female, Latina. Older. And vaguely familiar to Tell.

“I know you, I think,” Tell said.

“We met at the Latino Festival,
Jefe
. You helped my grandson, Richie.”

“I remember now,” Tell said. “You know something about who tried to kill Able Hawk?”

There was a long pause; labored breathing. Finally, the woman said, “I feel wrong doing this,
Jefe
.”

“Well, put that aside,” Tell said. “This person used an automatic rifle and turned Hawk’s neighborhood into a war zone. Hawk’s grandson has been badly wounded. A little girl was almost killed here. Hawk’s granddaughter-in-law has gone into labor from the shock of seeing her man shot.”

“I call because Able Hawk’s wrath could be so terrible for my community,” she said. “
El Gavilan
might burn down the whole West Side, looking for the one who shot that boy. And I call because the one who did this has said he means to kill not just Able Hawk, but to kill you too,
Jefe
.”

“Who did this,
señora
?”

“Richie has a friend—you picked him up the night you picked up Richie. His name is Magdaleno Ortiz. The one who did this is Magdaleno’s cousin, a boy named Diego Ortiz. Diego, he is a member of MS-13. He told Magdaleno what he was going to do to you and to
El Gavilan
. When Richie’s friend tried to stop him, Diego beat him with his gun. He knocked Magdaleno unconscious. When Magdaleno came to, he told Richie. Then Richie told me.”

“Thank you,
señora
,” Tell said. “Thank you. You’ve done the right thing.”

“I trust you,
Jefe
. That’s why I tell you. But you shouldn’t go yourself to arrest him. Diego is sworn to kill you too.”

“I’ll be fine,” Tell said. “Where does this Diego Ortiz live?”

“I’ll tell you, but understand,
Jefe
, there are children in that house too. Women and children.”

“I’m not going to let this turn into a slaughter,
señora
. Please believe me.”

She gave him the address and a last warning not to go himself.

Tell said, “
Gracias, señora
, but it’s my job.”

Tell closed his phone. Shouting above the noise of the deputies, he said, “Which of you is in charge here?”

A husky man in his middle forties said, “I’m senior badge here, so I’m saying me.” Tell checked the deputy’s nametag: Russell Kane. Tell assumed the man must be attempting to fill the void left by Able. Maybe he was loyal to his old chief; maybe he was a politician, eyeing promotion. Either way, he was the man Tell had to deal with.

Tell said, “Russ, I’m short-staffed at the moment. And I think you have a SWAT team at your disposal. Up front, you agree that it’s my show.”

“What? What’s your show?”

“Our imminent raid. But there’s a family at the scene—I don’t want to turn this into the Alamo.”

“What? What the hell are you talking about, Chief?”

“I know who shot Amos Sharp,” Tell said. “I know who tried to kill your former boss. And I know where to find the little bastard.”

* * *

Walt Pierce listened to his deputy’s account of the shooting at Able Hawk’s house. At the same time, he fiddled with Shawn O’Hara’s laptop.

Pierce was staring at Able’s letter to Shawn—Able’s note asking Tell Lyon for a meeting at eight
P.M.
He saw that the e-mail had been forwarded to Lyon’s fiancée’s e-mail account.

Well, so be it.

He’d have Hawk watched. If Hawk stayed at the hospital, Walt would bide his time.

If Able kept his appointment—and if Tell Lyon got word and showed up? Then Pierce and Strider would be there too.

The two of them would take Lyon and Hawk out while they were isolated and while Hawk was well off his footing.

And hell, maybe Lyon
wouldn’t
get word.

Maybe Hawk would be out in that ball field alone—the perfect solitary target.

Pierce said, “Them ambulances get here yet?”

“Five minutes ago,” Luke Strider said. “They’ve got the boy in the emergency room—hear he took at least eight slugs. They don’t figure he’ll make it.”

“What about Diego? He get away?”

“Appears so. For now anyway.”

“Any chatter about Diego on the radio—any indication they’ve identified him as shooter yet?”

Strider shook his head.

Sheriff Pierce nodded. “Good. Go over and kill Diego, won’t you, Luke? Shut his mouth for him while there’s time.”

* * *

The storm was getting worse—it had rained for the last hour and now there were tornado and severe thunderstorm warnings posted for Pickaway County. Patricia was about to shut down her computer when she noticed the flashing icon at the top of her laptop indicating she had e-mail.

She clicked it open, hoping for something from Tell.

She saw it was another e-mail from Shawn.

Salome was curled up on the couch, reading a magazine. Patricia said to her, “Shawn’s sent another forwarded note.”

Salome stood and said, “Let’s have a look.”

There was a flash of light and a loud thunder crack above the cabin rattled the windows. The lights flickered, then went off. Patricia’s computer screen went black. She’d just plugged the thing in a few minutes before to recharge its spent battery. “Oh, damn it,” Patricia said.

Salome said, “Better start scrounging up some candles and opening windows. Power’s usually never off less than several hours around these parts.”

FIFTY SEVEN

The emergency room doctors turned their attention to Able Hawk—his shirt was soaked through with blood. His pants were stained with blood too. Able’s hands were bloodied from pressing on his grandson’s gunshot wounds.

One of the doctors said, “Sit down, sir. Where are
you
hit?”

Able pushed the doctor away. “I’m not fuckin’ hit! You see to my boy—you see to Amos. This is
his
blood on me. You get my Amos through this, Doc. And you see to that girl there,” he said, pointing to Luisa. She was just being rolled in on the gurney. Her brown skin was bathed in sweat; tears in her eyes. “That’s my great-grandchild she’s having! You see to them two too. You do it now!”