feeling the warm blood begin to flow. With his right hand, he fumbled for the pepper spray on his belt. He found the small canister and popped the cap with his thumb. He couldn’t see around Mameli’s bulky torso, so he just sprayed a powerful blast between the two men, swiveling his wrist back and forth, likely hitting each man squarely in the face.
The brawl ended immediately as both men cried out and covered their faces.
Marlin pushed off of Mameli’s back and sat down on the bleachers, winded, cradling his wounded arm.
Peabody, wiping furiously at his eyes, managed to slither out from under Mameli.
Mameli propped himself on his elbows, prone on the plank floorboard, trying to see through squinted eyes. “My fuckin’ leg! The bastard broke my fuckin’ leg. I can feel it.”
“You deserved it, you cretin,” Peabody replied, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pepper spray. “You think you can just rape the land and get away with it?”
“Quiet!” Marlin yelled. He faced the crowd that was gathered below the bleachers, watching. He noticed Inga standing there silently, looking rattled, one hand over her mouth. “Anyone have a cell phone?” Marlin asked. A man Marlin recognized-the uncle of one of the sheriff’s dispatchers-raised his hand. “Mr. Briggs, please call nine-one-one, let ’em know we need an ambulance over here.” The man nodded and began to dial.
Marlin turned and glared at Peabody, who likely would have sneered if his face hadn’t been contorted from the spray. Marlin could see a bloody circle around Peabody’s mouth. Marlin’s blood.
Marlin stood, got behind Peabody, and grabbed his right arm. The handcuff locked in place with a satisfying click.
“Hey!” Peabody yelled. “What the hell? You’re arresting
“You’re damn right,” Marlin growled. “Assault.”
Peabody gestured toward Mameli, who was sprawled on the bleachers now, his face pasty-white, his lower leg bent at an odd angle. “He hasn’t even said he wants to press charges. And he assaulted me right back.”
“Not assault on
Vinnie was sad that it had to turn out this way, but he knew he had to follow his father’s words of wisdom.
After all, could he really trust T.J.? Someday the kid might be hanging out with some friends, get a buzz going, and brag about their little adventure together, how they had cheated the insurance company and gotten away with it.
Eventually word would make it back to the cops, they’d do a little sniffing around, put the pressure on T.J., and it would lead straight to hell from there.
No, this was the smart move-but Vinnie still kind of wished he’d never gotten T.J. involved at all.
He could picture his friend right now, slowly making his way down to the car. Vinnie had told him exactly where it was, so it’d be easy for him to find. Getting back up would be another story.
Vinnie hadn’t told T.J. the most important thing the scuba brochure had said:
And what would T.J.’s natural reaction be when he stared into Emmett Slaton’s bloated face? He’d panic, gasp for air, and shoot to the surface as fast as he could. No doubt about it. Hell, Vinnie had almost felt that urge himself.
He hoped that it would be quick and easy. He didn’t want T.J. in a lot of pain, screaming, begging for help, that kind of mess. If T.J. didn’t die quickly, Vinnie would have to get inventive, figure out something on the fly, maybe drown the poor bastard. But that embolism thing sounded pretty nasty. Probably wouldn’t take too long.
After that, Vinnie would just leave T.J. and the boat floating on the reservoir. Cops’d be thinking: What the hell happened here? Something don’t look right.
But what the fuck did Vinnie care? Nothing would point to him because he wasn’t actually murdering T.J. T.J. would be killing himself, without even knowing it. Yeah, it was much easier this way, not having to do the deed. Not having to put a gun to the back of T.J.’s head and pull the trigger.
Sitting there on the boat, in the dark, Vinnie smiled. It was pretty clever, really.
Peabody was locked securely in Marlin’s truck, and now Marlin was tending to Sal Mameli, trying to keep him comfortable. It was a pretty bad fracture, and Mameli appeared to be slipping into a mild shock.
Mr. Briggs appeared at Marlin’s elbow. “Just got hold of Jean,” he said, referring to his niece, the dispatcher. “There’s an ambulance on the way, but it sounds like they’re having a little excitement over at the sheriff’s office.”
“Oh yeah? What do you mean?”
Mr. Briggs gave him a small jerk of the head, pulling him aside. In hushed tones, the elderly man said, “The details are a little rough right now, and Jean’s not really supposed to share this stuff with me anyway….”
Marlin nodded. “Between you and me.”
Mr. Briggs’ expression was grave. “Apparently, Jack Corey just shot Wylie Smith.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The small building that housed the Sheriff’s Department and the county jail was surrounded by vehicles and people, mostly deputies and other personnel who worked inside the building. Marlin saw two black-and-whites from the Texas Department of Public Safety, and he spotted a couple of staff members from the newspaper office across the street. The rest of the crowd was composed of curious bystanders, locals who had been eating or shopping in the small downtown area. An ambulance idled out front.
Marlin backed up and found a spot as close as he could get, a block away. He turned to Peabody, whose eyes were still puffy and wet. “Stay put,” Marlin said. “I’ll be right back.” He didn’t wait for a sneer, but then again, Peabody hadn’t seemed too lively on the trip over.
Marlin jogged toward the building, swerving through the milling crowd.
“John! Over here!” It was Bobby Garza, a few paces outside the front door, huddled in a conference with the DPS troopers and a couple of deputies. As Marlin approached, Garza stepped toward him and steered him against the outside wall of the building. “Here’s the situation. Corey…Jesus, John-what happened to your arm?”
“Guy bit me. Long story.”
Garza nodded and continued, speaking quietly and quickly with his back to the crowd. “Wylie came back from Corey’s house and decided to have another go at him. He felt pretty good about the evidence he has so far, and wanted to see if Corey would cop to it.” Garza took a breath. Marlin couldn’t remember the sheriff ever looking so grim. “Next thing we know, there’s a shot from inside the interview room. I don’t know if Wylie went in there with his weapon or what, but Corey’s barricaded in there, he says Wylie’s been shot, and he’s not coming out.”
“Any word from Wylie?”
“Yeah, he hollered that he was wounded but okay before we evacuated the building. There’s nobody in there now but Corey, Wylie, and Darrell.” Darrell Bridges was one of the night dispatchers. “Corey insisted that we clear the building, and the damn place is so small, he’d know if we tried to keep a couple of guys inside. But Corey said it was okay for Darrell to stay when I told him that we had to have a dispatcher in there, otherwise nine-one-one would be down. I got Darrell wearing a vest. Jean was still in there at first, right when this thing got started, but Darrell’s shift started at eight and he insisted on relieving her. Acted like it was no big deal, but man, in my book, that makes him pretty brave.”
Marlin appreciated the information, but wondered why Garza had called him aside. After all, Marlin was a game warden-an employee of the state, not of the Sheriff’s Department.
Garza gave him a quiet stare. “We tried talking to him earlier on Wylie’s cell phone,” Garza said, “but he
