“We’ll keep the noise down, but all the lights on,” Jackson said. He went to the counter, scooped up her license, registration and ticket, and handed it to her. She folded it up, stuffed it in her back pocket, and stood with her hands on her hips, looking out the back window at the trailer.
Seven people. Seven witnesses, with cars lined up in the street out front and all the lights blazing in the house. Would that be enough to stave off anyone who might come by looking to silence Luis for good?
She kept coming back to Rodriguez, goddammit. If dumb and mean had realized how badly they had fucked up, they wouldn’t have called Rodriguez to clean up their mess. They would have just circled back around themselves to find Luis and finish what they’d started. They must have either thought they’d already killed him or the desert would finish him off soon enough. They’d been careless.
No, Rodriguez got involved because he had a dialogue with someone else. Someone sent him out to get proof of death. And the next beast up that food chain was Bradshaw Senior.
Which meant this involved an issue that was larger than a simple hate crime or personal matter.
Was it a large enough issue that it might endanger a well-meaning veterinarian and six other innocent people? It could be. It very well could be.
Thumbs hooked in her pockets, she drummed her fingers against her hip bones. She said, “Why don’t you play your poker game in the trailer? Either that, or we can move the dog into the house.”
Surprise flickered over Jackson’s battered features. He moved to stand behind her shoulder and looked out at the trailer too. “Why would we want to do either of those things?”
She told him, “Because I’m going out.”
He frowned. “Going where?”
“Didn’t you say people hang out in the bars during these storms?”
“Yeah, but maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to join them tonight.” He sounded troubled.
“Don’t see why not.” She gave him a bland smile. “I’m just going out for a beer.”
The sandstorm had started to die down when she left. She took the Glock, but when she pulled into the parking lot of the first bar, after a few minutes’ thought, she left the gun in her glove compartment.
Inside, she had a nonalcoholic beer, chatted with locals and learned some things.
The population number listed on Nirvana’s welcome sign was misleading, since it included everyone in Nirvana County. The town itself had around five hundred residents, all of whom either worked directly for the mining company or their local businesses were indirectly dependent on it somehow.
Built on an underground spring and located near the mine, Nirvana was one of the many small towns that had been a stopping point along the Transcontinental Railroad. Now it was a stopping point for Greyhound Lines. The town boasted its own Safeway supermarket, and its two bars were located at either end of Main Street. There were also two motels, three gas stations, and a family-style diner/casino off the interstate exit.
One of the gas stations was a combination truck stop/fast-food joint/casino, open 24/7. If Claudia weren’t in such a grim mood, she might have smiled. You could eat, gas up, and gamble, all at the same time. Just in case you felt you needed to do all those things in a hurry.
Another gas station sold liquor and carried a selection of movie rentals. The third hadn’t yet discovered a successful enough niche to diversify from its competitors. She remembered seeing that gas station earlier. It had looked shabby and neglected.
The most important thing she learned was what Bradshaw Junior and his boys looked like. Soon as she got those descriptions, she paid for her drink and drove down Main Street to the other side of town.
It was in the second bar that she hit the jackpot.
She knew who they were as soon as she pushed through the door. Four strapping guys, each around thirty years old, stood together by the pool table. They fit perfectly the descriptions she’d been given. A couple of them held pool sticks but they weren’t playing. They were drinking and talking in low voices, their expressions tense and edgy.
Shucks, looked like they weren’t having a good day.
Also looked like they might be working themselves up to do something about that.
Junior was dark-haired and handsome. According to the locals, he was the spitting image of Bradshaw Senior. He stood around six-two, and he had the muscled body of a college football player, with years of self-indulgence starting to thicken him around the middle.
She paused just after stepping inside, and she stared at the foursome until one of them looked up and saw her. Just so happened, it was Junior. She liked that. She gave him a long, level look, which he returned.
Hook baited and line cast.