The Devil's Right Hand (27 page)

“
You taking an awful lot of those, my
man,” Geronimo observed. “Will you be able to do your work
tomorrow?”

“
Don’t worry,” Raymond said. “And don’t
forget. Your boys take out the cops. But Keller and Puryear are
mine. I want to look in their eyes when they die.”

“
Si, si
,”
Geronimo said. “They’re all yours. And after that, we will conclude
our business. You will like Bogota.”

“
Yeah,” Raymond said.
“Bogota.”

“
You can’t put him in here with me!”
DeWayne screamed. He propelled himself backwards against the wall
with his feet on the bunk. It was as if he was trying to drive
himself through the concrete-block wall of the tiny cell. “That
guy’s crazy,” DeWayne insisted to the guard. “He’s done tried to
kill me once.”

There was a malicious twinkle in the jailer’s
small dark eyes. “Looks like you two lovebirds have a lot of
catching up to do,” he said. ”Pleasant dreams.”

“
You stay the fuck away from me, man!”
DeWayne said. His voice was trembling in fear.

“
Oh, put a sock in it, DeWayne,” Keller
said. “That’s over. And you know damn well I didn’t try to kill
you. If I recall, it was you who tried to kick my head in. Besides,
it’s not like I can turn you in to anyone now.”

A look of suspicion crossed DeWayne’s face.
“So what are you doin’ here, man?” he demanded. “This ain’t some
sort of trick, is it? What are you in here for?”

“
Murder,” Keller said. “Second degree.
One of the guys that came to kill you and your cousin drew down on
me with a pistol.” Keller sat down on the floor. “I shot
him.”

“
But if he had a gun--”

“
Nobody found the gun. There was a
third man there. He took the guns and the money.”

DeWayne shook his head. “The money,” he said.
“The damn money. I can’t believe all this shit went down over some
damn money.” He shook his head. “Seemed like a good idea at the
time.”

“
Yeah,” Keller said. “They all
do.”

It was past midnight, and the single light in
the office was the gooseneck lamp that illuminated the desk. Angela
sat behind the desk, office phone in hand.

“
They’re giving me the runaround,”
Scott McCaskill was saying. “I won’t be able to see him until
tomorrow.”

Angela’s hand clenched more tightly on the
receiver. Only the calming effect of McCaskill’s voice, a voice
that had captivated a thousand juries, was keeping her from
screaming. She was afraid that it was only going to have a
short-term effect on her roiled emotions.

“
Why are they doing this?” she said,
amazed at how calm her voice sounded. “What are they doing to
him?”

“
Easy, Angela,” McCaskill said. “Don’t
let your imagination run away with you. Too many people know he’s
there for them to try any monkey business. This is that prick
Stacy’s way of trying to show us who’s boss. He wouldn’t be trying
this sort of chickenshit mind game if he wasn’t worried about his
case.”

“
What about you?” she said. “Are you
worried?”

McCaskill paused just a second too long. “You
are worried,” Angela said.

He sighed. “Yes, I am, a little. We’ve got a
dead man killed by a weapon that Jack is known to favor. They can
put him at the scene because of the blood on his clothes. He claims
self-defense, but no one found a gun near the body. And, of course,
there aren’t any witnesses to back him up.”

“
You’re saying they won’t believe
him.”

“
I’m saying that if we put him on the
stand, a good prosecutor will be able to bring up what he does for
a living much more effectively. They’ll be able to paint him as a
violent and unstable individual. In that situation--who knows.” His
voice softened. “There’s nothing we can do about it tonight,
Angela,” he said. “Get some sleep. I’ll be at the arraignment
tomorrow.”

“
So will I,” she said.

“
Of course. See you there.” There was a
click and the line went dead.

She heard a knock at the front door.

She tensed. Her hand went automatically into
the desk drawer where she kept a Glock 9. She stood up, gun in
hand. She walked to the office door and looked across the reception
area towards the front of the office. Through the glass door, she
saw a figure silhouetted against the light from the street. “We’re
closed,” she called out. “Try Speedy Bail Bonds. It’s down the
street.”

“
Are you
Senora
Hager?” a voice said.

She approached the door, the hand holding the
pistol held behind her back. “Yes,” she said. “Who are you?”

“
I have some information about Mr.
Keller. Something that might help him.”

Angela’s heart pounded. She ran the rest of
the way to the door. She hesitated with her hand on the knob. “What
information?” she said through the door. “What can you tell
me?”

“
I was there when those men were
killed,” the voice said. “My name is Oscar Sanchez.”

The next morning, a different guard came for
them, an older deputy with gray hair. He took them out of the cell
one at a time, DeWayne first. Each man’s hands were cuffed behind
him, then fastened by cuffs to a heavy chain that went around their
waists. The guard took them though a maze of halls and metal doors
until they reached the garage. It was a large echoing chamber that
looked far too big for the single patrol car parked just inside the
closed door.

“
Shit,” the older deputy said, “Where’s
the van?”

“
Already run,” the driver, a
dark-haired man with a sour, lined face replied. “Full
up.”

“
Well I can’t put ‘em in a regular car
like this,” he said, gesturing at Keller’s hands cuffed in back.
“Can’t belt ‘em in right. All I need is for one of ‘em to hit his
head and file a lawsuit.” He continued grumbling as he uncuffed
Keller’s hands and fastened them in front. He did the same with
DeWayne’s. He guided each of them into the car with a hand on their
head, then belted them in securely. He then slammed the door before
climbing into the front seat with the driver. He motioned to a
young deputy standing by the doorway. The garage door of the
prisoner bay rattled upwards in its tracks and the car pulled
out.

The driver wheeled the car out using one hand
to steer as he plucked the radio mike off the dashboard. “Unit
forty-five is ten-seventeen to the courthouse,” he said. “Two
ten-eighty-two's”.

“
That might be them,” Raymond said as
the car emerged from behind the metal fence that surrounded the
jail. He and Geronimo were sitting in the cab of the stolen black
truck. They were parked across the wide four-lane street from the
jail. They were in a parking lot beside a long, narrow building
that looked as if it had been abandoned and boarded up for years.
Down the street, the other two gunmen waited in a stolen white
Lexus obtained early that morning in another nearby
town.

Raymond raised a pair of binoculars and
peered through them. The pain pills he had taken seemed to drop a
sort of haze across his vision, but he could make out Keller’s
blonde hair. His identification was confirmed when he caught a
glance of Puryear’s face peering out of the glass.

“
That’s them,” he said. “Let’s move.”
He pulled back the hammer on the huge revolver across his lap as
Geronimo started the engine. Down the street, he could see the
Lexus’ headlights flash twice as it pulled away from the
curb.

“
So I told him,” the older deputy was
saying, “if he thought he was gonna get me to pay five thousand for
that piece of shit car, he had another think comin’”. The sheriff’s
car turned right onto the wide four-lane boulevard that led to the
county courthouse. The street was divided by a disused stretch of
rusting railway track that ran between the two sets of travel
lanes. As they approached a stoplight, the older deputy went on:
“And you know what that sumbitch told me? He says watch out,
you...” a large black pickup had roared up beside them, then
accelerated ahead and swerved drunkenly into their path. Keller saw
the red glow of the brake lights growing larger in the front
windshield as the truck abruptly slowed. The tires of the sheriff’s
car squealed as the driver slammed on the brakes. Keller’s head
snapped to the left at the sound of another powerful engine beside
them. A white Lexus had roared up and slid to a stop next to them.
Keller saw a gun barrel extended from the open window.

“
Get down!”
he
screamed. His head almost collided with DeWayne’s as he ducked
below the level of the front seat. The seat belt held him in place,
keeping him from going any lower. There was a series of quick,
sharp bangs, like someone pounding on the car with a stick. Keller
heard the sound of shattering glass from up front. Something warm
and wet sprayed over his back. The guard up front was screaming.
Keller heard the front door open, then there was another quick
burst of fire and a scream of pain.

“
What the fuck?” DeWayne was
screaming.

“
Keep your head down!” Keller yelled
back.

Suddenly, the door was yanked open. Keller
looked up to see Raymond Oxendine standing there, pointing a gun at
him. The man’s dark face had an unhealthy grayish tinge, and his
green eyes looked slightly unfocused, but the hand that held the
gun was steady. He reached over and unfastened the seat belt.

“
Git out the car,” he said in his flat
voice.

“
Mr. Sanchez,” Scott McCaskill said, “I
understand not wanting to draw police attention. But you will need
to tell the court yourself. I can’t tell you how
important...”

“
I told you what I saw,” Sanchez said.
He gestured at the gym bag on the floor of the courthouse’s tiny
conference room. “There are the guns that were used that day. Can’t
you just tell the court what I told you?”

“
No sir,” Angela said. She had stayed
up most of the night talking to Sanchez and her face was drawn and
wan-looking. “It’s called hearsay. No one can testify to what
someone else said.”

“
I was with them,” Sanchez said. “If
they cannot find this Oxendine, the police will blame me because I
am the one they have.”

“
You told me that a yard full of people
saw Raymond Oxendine point a gun at you and demand you come along.”
McCaskill said. “We can show you were under duress.” Sanchez just
looked at the table.

“
Mister Sanchez,” Angela finally said,
“It’s not just the police you’re thinking of, is it? Do you blame
yourself for what happened?”

Sanchez looked up. “
Si
,” he said. “It is true they held a gun on me.
But I helped them. I led them to those two old people that Raymond
killed. I could have stayed dumb, like they thought I was. But I
thought that what those men were doing was honorable. They were
trying to right the wrong of their father’s death, and I wanted to
help. But in the end...” he shrugged helplessly, “They were just
men with guns. Just killing and more killing. And I helped make it
happen.” He gave a bitter laugh. After a moment he spoke again.
“You know what I did in Colombia?” he said. “I was a schoolteacher.
I came here because I thought I could make a better life for me and
my sons. A safer life. Away from the men with the guns and the bags
of money. And look what happened. I became a man with a gun and a
bag of money. Another
pistolero
.” He spat out the word like a
curse.

“
There’s a difference between you and
the Oxendines, Mr. Sanchez,” Angela said. “You didn’t kill anyone.
And you can keep Jackson Keller from going to jail for something he
didn’t do. Maybe that will make some of this right. That’s why you
came to me, isn’t it?”

Sanchez’ smile was bitter. “And is this
Keller so innocent?” he asked. “After all, he was there. With a
gun.”

“
No one would ever call Jack Keller
innocent,” Angela said, “but I know him. He would never kill a man
in cold blood.”

Sanchez looked at her appraisingly. “You care
for him. I can tell.”

She looked him steadily in the eye. “He’s my
best friend.”

They looked at each other like that for a
moment. Finally Sanchez smiled. “He is lucky to have such a
friend.” He turned to McCaskill. “All right,” he said. “Who do I
talk to?”

“
Thank you, Mr. Sanchez,” Angela
said.

“
Call me Oscar,” he replied.

“
You’re doing the right thing, sir,”
McCaskill told him.

Sanchez hadn’t taken his eyes off of Angela.
“I don’t have a choice,” he said, still smiling. “I would be
ashamed to act the coward in front of one so brave.”

Angela’s face flushed slightly. “Ummm--” she
said. “Thank you.”

McCaskill cleared his throat. “Of course,” he
said, “once we have a little talk with the district attorney’s
office, it’s entirely possible that there won’t even be a hearing.
They don’t have a whole lot of interest in trying a losing case.”
He stood up. “Okay, people,” he said. “Let’s go introduce Mister
Sanchez to the district attorney.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Raymond led them behind the patrol car, hands
still cuffed in front of them. The patrol car’s engine was still
running, but the body of the driver was slumped over the wheel. The
front seat of the car was a swamp of blood spattered by the impact
of the machine gun slugs. The two shooters in the Lexus had roared
away once they had emptied their clips into the driver. Keller had
to step over the body of the older guard. The dead man lay where
the impact of the heavy machine gun bullets had driven him back.
His left eye stared blankly up at the sky. His other eye was lost
in the shattered ruin of the right side of his head. His gun was on
the concrete a few feet away.