Devils and Dust (22 page)

Angela listened for the sound of the locks being refastened. If the girl was upset enough, maybe she’d forget. Her heart sank as she heard the metallic clinks and clicks.

“Shit,” she said aloud. She didn’t expect to ever see the girl again. Or to ever get out of that room alive.

S
OMETHING WAS
wrong. Ruben could sense it. The guards, whose bullying of their prisoners was usually almost as jovial as it was cruel, were grim and unsmiling. The routine remained the same, but there was an edge to their voices. As the prisoners worked, they stood together, conversing in low voices. Once when Ruben drifted near, he overheard something about a “capture team.” He recalled Kinney’s conversation with Colton, the other guard, and realized that he hadn’t seen Colton since.

The guards cut the day’s work shorter than usual. That would normally have made the men happy, but they’d caught the tension in the guards’ demeanor as well, and they looked at each other apprehensively as they were marched back to the barracks. As they walked through the gate, Ruben heard a voice call out to him.

“Boy.” He stopped at the sound of the General’s voice. The General was standing a few feet away, next to a large vehicle Ruben recognized as a civilian model Hummer. “Come here,” he said. Ruben hesitated as the other men moved on, not looking at him.

“Well?” Kinney snapped, “Move!”

Ruben walked over, trying not to drag his feet. He stood before the General. The older man didn’t speak at first, but Ruben could feel the General appraising him. Ruben kept his eyes down.

Finally, the General spoke. “Can you read and write English as well as speak it?”

Ruben nodded. “Answer out loud!” the General snapped.

“Yes,” Ruben said, “Yes, sir. I can read and write English.”

The General grunted. “Can you do sums?”

“Sums?”

“Add. Subtract. Mathematics.”

That’s arithmetic, not mathematics
.
What kind of backward place does this man think I’m from
? Ruben had been first in his calculus class in school. “Yes,” he said, “I’m good at math.”

“We’ll see,” the General said. “And if you’re lying, you’ll be punished. Severely.”

“I’m not lying,” Ruben said.

The General acted as if he hadn’t heard. “The man who assists me in recordkeeping has been unavoidably detained. This leaves me shorthanded of able men to keep you people in line. So. Follow me.” He turned and began walking toward Building Three. Ruben’s stomach knotted in fear, but he followed. They walked inside, through the room where they’d been taken for “trial” when they’d first arrived, and into a smaller room with a desk and filing cabinets. The office was immaculate, the desk empty except for a clipboard. “Here,” the General said, picking up the clipboard. “Go to Building Four. Inventory the supplies.” He handed it over.

Ruben looked down at the clipboard. Along the left hand side of the page was a list of foodstuffs—flour, beef, ham, beans, and others—followed by a column showing the quantity of each as of a week before. It looked simple enough. Ruben looked up. “I have to look after my little brother,” he said. “The other men, they pick on him. Take his food when I am not there.” Their suspicion and distrust of Ruben as a collaborator had affected Edgar as well. The other men in the barracks ignored them when Ruben was there, but when they were apart, the smaller and more timid Edgar had a rough time of it. “And it will get worse if I’m doing this.”

The General shook his head in disgust. “Animals. It will be taken care of. As long as you do your job, and do it well, the two of you’ll be protected.”

“Yes, sir,” Ruben said. “Thank you, sir.” He turned away with the clipboard.
Now who will protect us from you
?

B
Y
MIDMORNING
, they’d arrived at the city limits of Hearken. Though they were stiff and bleary-eyed from the road, neither one of them felt like resting. They felt their goal getting nearer. Somewhere around here was the answer, and maybe Oscar’s sons.

Keller had written down the street address of the Church of Elohim. The town was small, even tinier than Frey, with only the one main street. The address they eventually located was a storefront on a side street, without signs or any evidence of occupancy. The front plate glass was covered with paper on the inside so they couldn’t see in. They got out of the car and stood looking at the building. Keller walked over and tried the door. The place was locked.

“Maybe they closed down,” he said.

Oscar shook his head. “The website is being maintained. Last posting was three days ago.”

“So this address is a front.” He was walking back to the car as a brown and white Sheriff’s patrol car pulled in behind them. He tensed as the officer inside put on his flashers and activated the blue light bar on top. “Let me do the talking,” Keller said.

“Not a problem,” Oscar said.

The officer who slowly unfolded himself out of the front seat was a tall and lanky, light-skinned African-American. He had the rawboned look and big hands of a farm boy, and the slow amble to match, but his eyes were shrewd and appraising as he looked them over. “Mornin’, fellas,” he drawled. The nameplate over the pocket of his short-sleeved khaki shirt read CASTLE.

“Morning,” Keller said.

“You gentlemen new in town?”

“Here on business,” Keller said. “Mind if I take my card out of my back pocket?” The deputy nodded. His eyes never stopped moving between Keller and Oscar, who sat in the car.

Keller handed over the card. Castle took it and studied it. “Bail Bonds,” he said. “Y’all are a ways from home.”

“So’s the guy we’re looking for,” Keller said. “My boss here,” he nodded at Oscar, “has some serious cash on the line.”

“Your…” he looked at Oscar sitting in the car, who smiled. Castle looked back at the card. He walked around to the passenger side and motioned for Oscar to roll down the window. Oscar complied. “Oscar Sanchez?” the deputy said. “The business is yours?”

“Mine and my wife’s.” Oscar’s smile grew wider. “So I guess I am only the boss when she’s not around.”

That brought a ghost of a smile to the deputy’s lips, but it quickly vanished. He slid the card into the pocket of his uniform shirt, straightened up, and looked at Keller. “License and registration, please.” Keller slid into the car and pulled the bill of sale out of the glove box. “We just bought the car,” he said, handing it to Castle along with his driver’s license.

Castle’s brow furrowed. “In Texas?”

“I’m telling you,” Keller said, “this guy’s led us all over the damn place.”

“What’s his name?” Castle said.

“Hager,” Oscar answered. “Jefferson Hager.”

“We’d heard he might have joined up with this Church of Elohim,” Keller said, watching the deputy’s face closely. “This was the address we had for it.”

Castle shook his head. “They moved out of town,” he said. “And the land where they moved is posted. No trespassing.”

“Okay,” Keller said. “I understand.” He tried another tack. “Maybe you’ve seen Hager around. He sometimes uses the name Rance Colton.”

There was still no reaction. “Never heard of him. Wait here.” Castle took the license and registration back to his car.

“Jack,” Oscar said, “if he looks in the trunk…”

“We’re just working stiffs trying to do our job,” Keller said, “and exercising our Second Amendment right to bear arms.”

“Would that include the rocket launcher?” Oscar said.

“It’s South Carolina,” Keller said. “You never know. They probably hunt deer with the damn things down here.”

The deputy came back with his slow amble, but his eyes no longer held that watchful wariness. “License checks out,” he said, handing the license and bill of sale back to Keller.

“Any idea where we might find our bail jumper?” Keller asked.

Castle shook his head. “Like I said. Never heard of him. But I will tell you this.” He looked directly at Keller. “Stay away from that church’s property. Like I said, it’s posted, and they don’t like trespassers. I or one of the other deputies gets called out there, they
will
press charges. Understood?”

Keller nodded. “Understood.”

“You fellas have a nice day, now,” Castle said.

As he turned away, Keller caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the deputy’s bicep, peeking out from under his short-sleeved uniform shirt. It showed a shield with a black silhouette of a horse’s head in the upper left corner. “Hey,” he said. The deputy stopped and turned back. The wariness was back in his eyes. “First Cav?”

Castle nodded. “Yeah.”

“Me, too,” Keller said. “Desert Storm.”

“That so?” Castle said. “Bosnia for me, then the second go-round in the Gulf.”

“Fallujah?”

Castle nodded.

“Bad as it looked?”

“Worse.”

“Sorry,” Keller said.

Castle shrugged. “Embrace the suck,” he quoted.

“Heard that,” Keller replied.

“Have a good day,” Castle said, a little more pleasantly this time.

“You, too.” Keller got back in the car as Castle climbed back into his. He waited for the deputy to start his car before he turned the key.

“That was close,” Oscar said. “Have we made a friend?”

“Maybe,” Keller said, “or maybe he’s calling those Elohim assholes right now.”

“Unlikely,” Oscar said. “Given he’s a black man.”

“Stranger shit has happened.”

“So what do we do?” Oscar said.

“We move forward,” Keller said. “We need to check out the farm.”

“That officer said…”

“That they don’t like visitors. That they’re really insistent on keeping people away. Wouldn’t you do that if you were holding people as slaves?”

Oscar nodded. “Do you think that is where they are?”

“I think it’s the next place we look,” Keller said. He put the car in gear and pulled away. “But I want to find a library first.”

“A library? Why?”

“If we’re going to find a way in,” Keller said. “We need a map. And where’s the best place to find a map?”

“The library?”

“Maybe. But also, online. But we’ll need a printer.”

Oscar nodded. They were pulling out onto the main street. “There.” Oscar pointed to a small, older building, set back from the street and surrounded by trees. A sign out front read HEARKEN PUBLIC LIBRARY.

“Great,” Keller said. He pulled into a parking space in front.

R
AY
C
ASTLE
steered his patrol cruiser through the streets of Hearken, eyes moving over the familiar homes and storefronts of the town where he’d grown up. All quiet today. He smiled to himself. Quiet was good. He’d had enough excitement over in the Sandbox to last a lifetime. He’d come back with a Silver Star, a Purple Heart, and a deep desire never to leave his hometown again. The first two had given him enough local fame to ease his way into a job in the Sheriff’s department despite the prejudice that still existed. It never hurt a politician’s chances to be seen giving a break to a serviceman. Sheriff Cosgrove had even invited Castle to a few of his fundraisers and campaign stops, especially those at AME Churches and Black Community Centers. He knew he was being used as a prop, but he tried hard to let it go. For all the bullshit, this place was home. His whole family was here.

The radio crackled with static. “All units, base.” He recognized the voice of Sheriff Cosgrove. His brow furrowed. That was odd. He keyed his mic. “One-seven,” he responded. He heard the four other units on patrol in various sections of the county call in.

“All units,” Sheriff Cosgrove said over the channel. “Be on the lookout for any unfamiliar or strange subjects in or around Hearken. Particularly subjects showing interest in the Church of Elohim or its properties.”

“What the…” Castle whispered to himself. He keyed the mic again. “Sir, this is one-seven. I just talked to a couple of subjects outside the church’s old headquarters. The place they had before they moved out to the farm.”

There was a brief silence. “One-seven, meet me back at the substation.”

“Ten-four,” Castle said. He wondered if he’d screwed up by letting the two men go. Still, there’d really been nothing to hold them for. He began to sweat, even with the air-conditioning turned up high.