he felt it was an angle worth exploring.
Garza said, “I’m gonna take this real slow, John. One step at a time, with no screwups. If either Vinnie or Sal was involved, we’re not gonna let them slip through the net, I promise you that.”
Marlin asked about Jack Corey and Wylie Smith. “They’re fine,” Garza replied. “Both in the hospital getting checked out. One other thing: This isn’t out yet, so you gotta keep it under your hat….”
Marlin nodded.
“I saw Wylie late last night.” Garza paused-and Marlin knew the sheriff didn’t want to say what he was about to say. “He admitted to holding a gun to Corey’s head. Just flat-out confessed to it. So, between you and me, he’s a goner. Unofficially, he’s already off the force-only he doesn’t know it yet. Probably be some criminal charges.”
Oddly, Marlin’s spirits sank when he heard the news. He had never liked Wylie, but it was heartbreaking when a fellow law-enforcement officer strayed the way Wylie had. It was obvious Garza was bitterly disappointed that one of his deputies had nearly wrecked the life of an innocent man.
Garza continued, with a grim face: “Now I gotta figure out what to do about Corey. He’s clear on the Gammel charge, and we can’t really hold him accountable for the standoff.”
“Hell, the county’ll be lucky if he doesn’t sue.”
“Yeah, I can’t say I’d blame him.” Garza glanced out the window. “Listen,” Garza said, “I’ve still got a lot of work to do around here. You can hang around and see how it plays out, or take off and I’ll keep you posted.”
Marlin reached for the door handle. “Think I’ll go for a drive,” he said. “Take a break for a while.”
“I don’t blame you.”
The twin stories of Jack Corey’s surrender and the discovery of Emmett Slaton’s body were big news, justifying sporadic live updates on KHIL for the remainder of the day.
Unfortunately for Smedley Poindexter, the only thing playing on the television set in the headquarters of Slaton Brush Removal, Incorporated, was
Smedley tried valiantly to hang on to his dignity. But within hours, he was a blubbering, pathetic wreck.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
John Marlin had never wanted to be anything but a game warden. After all, it was in his blood. His father, Royce Marlin, had been Blanco County’s game warden for twenty-two years, up until the mid-1970s. Growing up, John used to watch in awe as his father pulled on his uniform, strapped on his handgun, and set off into the field. Then Royce would come home for supper and tell tall tales about his exploits that day, John’s mother rolling her eyes at the exaggerations. It was a happy, exciting childhood-until Royce was killed by a poacher in 1976.
Even that didn’t deter Marlin’s drive to carry the warden’s badge; if anything, it strengthened it. He had completed the game warden cadet academy in Austin in 1982, and then awaited his assignment. The state would relocate him to the first available position, whether it was in the piney woods of East Texas or the flatlands of the Panhandle. As luck would have it, Marlin was assigned to Blanco County when the previous warden retired. For twenty years now, Marlin had thoroughly enjoyed chasing poachers and enforcing game laws around his hometown.
But as he drove the back roads that sunny afternoon, he had to admit that the last week had been unusually rewarding. Nailing a killer like Maynard Clements was gratifying-and Marlin was rarely called upon to take part in a case of that magnitude. Marlin found himself thinking about Bobby Garza’s open-ended offer to become a sheriff’s deputy. There was no doubt it would be more exciting, with higher-profile cases.
Just after noon, he drove back home few lunch. Pulling into the driveway, his stomach turned a flip as he saw a familiar car sitting next to Inga’s Volvo: Becky’s Honda Civic. He swore quietly. He had forgotten that Becky had planned to pick up the last of her things.
Before he made it to the front door, Inga exited, an odd smile on her face. She didn’t say anything until they were a few feet apart. “You have a visitor.”
“Yeah, that’s what I gathered.”
They stood in silence for a moment.
“Listen, John,” Inga said, “if I screwed anything up for you…”
“No, there wasn’t anything left to screw up.”
“Becky and I talked for a while. I hope you don’t mind.”
Marlin wanted to groan. That was the last thing he wanted to hear. “Anything I should know?”
Inga shrugged. “She’s a nice lady.”
“Yeah, yeah, she is.”
“I’m going to go into to town for a while, let you two talk.”
“I appreciate it. You can come back for-”
Inga held up a hand. “Why don’t I call first? Okay?”
Marlin nodded, and Inga walked to her Volvo, climbed in, and drove away.
Marlin turned toward the house, and Becky was already standing on the front porch holding a box, wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“Hey, there,” he said softly.
Becky didn’t reply. She set the box down on the porch and took a seat in one of the two rocking chairs, looking straight ahead.
Marlin eased into the chair beside her.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she said.
“I’m sorry….”
She shook her head, cutting him off, and Marlin saw a single tear run down her cheek. She stared down at her hands. “I
“That’s not fair,” Marlin replied, feeling a need to defend himself. “You haven’t really
She leaned back in the rocking chair and finally looked him in the eye. “I know that. And I’m not sure how I could have changed it. With my mother… and the new job….”
Marlin wished there was something he could say to make the awful ache in his chest go away, but he knew words alone couldn’t do it. It would take time-for both of them. Finally, Becky laughed and said, “If I had known you had company, I would have put on some makeup.”
Marlin tried to grin, but it didn’t quite work out. “How’s your mom?”
“Actually, she’s doing okay-for the moment. The doctor says it could still be several weeks. I had to get out of there for a while.”
They sat for a time, letting the sun warm their faces, listening to the doves in nearby trees.
“Becky,” Marlin said, “I’ve told you before: You mean more to me than any woman I’ve ever met. I love you, and I only want you to be happy.”
Her face was a mottled red now, the tears flowing freely. “I know that.” She let one hand drift over and cover his-but it felt like anything but a lover’s gesture. “I love you, too.”
They rose, and Marlin helped Becky pack the rest of her things.
Thomas Peabody could see the BrushBusters from his vantage point-and it appeared that Emmett Slaton had owned a much larger fleet than Sal Mameli. Peabody counted eleven of the infernal machines. Surely the old man must have realized the irreparable damage he was inflicting on the ecosystem. Perhaps Slaton had disappeared because Mother Nature had smote him down, exacting punishment against those who would abuse her. Alas, someone else would come along and fill Slaton’s shoes. Those machines wouldn’t sit idle for long. Unless Peabody
