been wond’rin’ why she haunts you,
Beauty in the devil’s disguise …
Roy slowed the Mustang down. They were approaching a dirt road that came out of a break in the trees lining the side of the road. Roy pulled in, the car bumping over the rutted track as they passed through the line of trees.
She can tell you all about it
She sees it in the stars
She’ll burn you if you try to put her down
Oh well it’s been a good day in Hell,
And tomorrow I’ll be glory bound…
There was a white van parked back in a clearing a couple of hundred feet off the hard road. Roy pulled the Mustang up beside it. Laurel started singing along with the Eagles:
In that big book of names I wanna go down in flames
Seein’s how I’m goin down
Oh well it’s been a good day in Hell,
And tomorrow I’ll be glory bound …
Roy killed the engine and the song died with it. “Come on, kid,” he said as he and Laurel got out. As Stan clambered out of the passenger side, he noticed the ignition lock broken off and dangling by its wires from the steering column. Roy patted the fender longingly. “Too bad,” he said. “I kinda like these.”
“We been over that, Roy,” Laurel said. “Too flashy to keep for long. This one’s gonna be on someone’s hot sheet by now.”
Roy sighed. “I know,” he said. “I’m just sayin’.” He opened the trunk. Stan looked inside. There were a number of long objects wrapped in blankets inside. Roy pulled one of the blankets aside slightly to reveal the black metal of a rifle beneath. His smile was very white in the gloom. “Military issue,” he said. “Can’t hardly get ‘em, even on the street.”
Stan’s mouth was dry. “Then how—”
“I know a guy at Fort Bragg,” he said. “Funny thing. Once they put the inventory on the computer, it got real easy for a guy who wanted to make some extra dough to make stuff disappear.” He pulled a rifle out of one of the blankets, cocked it expertly and raised it to his shoulder. He scanned the trees, looking through the sights, before pulling the trigger. There was the solid click of a dry-fire.
“Bang,” Roy said softly. Laurel started singing softly to herself. “Tomorrow I’ll be glory booooouund …”
“He did what!?” Angela said.
They were in her tiny office at the rear of the storefront that housed H & H Bail Bonds. She looked at Sanchez, who sat in the chair in front of the desk, his leg propped up in the other chair. “Oscar, have you lost your mind?” Sanchez looked away in embarrassment.
“Take it easy,” Keller said. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his thumb hooked into the waistband of his jeans. “He did great.”
“You can’t just go coldcocking people,” Angela said. “Even if they are jumpers.”
“Well…” Keller said. “He, ah…he didn’t really have much choice.”
Angela sat down. “What aren’t you telling me?” She looked from Sanchez’s face to Keller’s. Neither would meet her eyes. Finally Sanchez sighed. “Manuel Olivera had a knife. He pulled it on me.”
“I see.” Her face was expressionless. She took a deep breath. “Oscar,” she said after a long moment. “Would you excuse us for a minute?”
Sanchez crossed his arms across his chest. “No,” he said. “I am not a child. This is about me. You do not send me out of the room to discuss it.”
Angela put her face in her hands. It was warm in the office and she had removed the gloves which she usually wore. The web of burn scars on the backs of her hands shone pale white in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the office.
“Okay then,” she said finally as she put her hands down. She looked at Keller. “There wasn’t supposed to be any violence.” Her face was calm, her voice controlled, but there was no mistaking the accusation.
Keller shrugged, holding his own temper in check. “There was nothing in his priors that said he’d go off like that. There wasn’t any way to know.”
“He panic,” Sanchez said. “Sorry…he panicked.” “Okay,” Angela said. Her voice cracked slightly on the second syllable. She cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said in a firmer voice. “What’s done is done. But Oscar, that’s the last time. You don’t go out on takedowns anymore.”
Sanchez stood up slowly. His face was dark with anger. “I decide that, Angela.” His accent had gotten thicker with his agitation and the name came out as An-he-la.
Angela stood up and put her hands on the desk. “This is my business, Oscar,” she said. “I decide who works for me and how.”
Sanchez gestured at Keller. “He puts himself in danger all the time,” he said. “And you care for him. I know you do.”
“That’s different,” Angela snapped. “He … it’s just different.”
“Si, I know,” Sanchez said. He hobbled to the door, wincing. Keller moved out of his way. “He is not a cripple,” Sanchez said as he walked out. After a few moments, they heard the bell on the front door jingle as he walked out into the street.
Angela sat back down and folded her arms in front of her on the desk. She put her head down on them. Keller sat down in the seat Sanchez had just vacated. He waited silently. Finally, Angela looked up. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” she said.
“Yeah,” Keller said.
She looked at him. “Keller, you think just once you could lie to make me feel better?”
“I doubt it. It wouldn’t work.”
“Damn it, Jack, he’s a schoolteacher. He’s not a bounty hunter.”
“He was a schoolteacher back in Colombia,” Keller said. “He’s been through a lot since then.”
Angela laughed sharply. “That’s an understatement.”
Then she sighed. “I just don’t want him to get hurt.”
“Sounds like you guys are getting pretty close.”
“Yeah,” she said.
“That’s good. He’s a good man.” Something in his voice made Angela look up.
“What?”
He shook his head. “Nothing.” He stood up. “You need me to do anything else?”
She stood up as well. “Come
