True Grit Page 10

  Bob sat at Xenia's booth and asked, "We've got a list. Shall we do it together, or split it up?"

  "Most of them know already," she said. "So, it won't take as long as you think. But, this is a big place. Anyone out in the middle of nowhere?"

  He consulted his list. "No one on opposite sides. More like an arc."

  She stood, rubbed her back. "Let's do this."

  They each got wet wipes out of their trunks, along with blue medical waste bags. They cleaned themselves off as best they could. They swung by the house first; they both had blood-soaked jeans. They put them in evidence bags, labeled them, and put them in Xenia's trunk. They stopped off for bottled water, then headed out to make notifications in Xenia's newer Yukon. They held hands, handed out tissue packs like candy, and primarily dealt with people who already knew. Several had been outside, on the road, or otherwise not listening to the news or the much louder neighbor network. Most already had the much-needed assistance of family, neighbors, friends, or clergy.

  By the time they dropped off their blood-soaked clothing at the lab, swung back to get Bob's car, and went to their respective offices for debriefing, dusk had fallen. Bob gave his statement, but left the rest of the case to the FBI and Yasmine, his second; she had point and she knew it. He gave her the evidence bag with Avery's assault rifle and left her to it. Bob went back to Xenia's office to be sure she had some dinner (that they wouldn't want to eat) that would taste like ashes in their mouths, but they both needed.

  A brand-new FBI Special Agent in Charge was in Xenia's office, questioning her. Bob stalked right in and sat down. "Ask Sheriff Xenia Poloulakis whatever pleases you to ask her, but she's pregnant, and we've both lost friends we've had since grade school, today. She needs food and rest, so either wrap it up, or let her recline and feed her. Pick one."

  The SAC looked at him with a grimace. "I'm Special Agent in Charge, Donaldson. You must be Sheriff Robert Hunter."

  "Pleased to meet you," said Bob. "So, does she get the recliner and the food, or does she go home?"

  "I'm asking the questions here," said Donaldson.

  "No, you're not," said Bob. "You have anything to ask, you can do it in the morning."

  Xenia stood and wobbled a little. Bob held out a hand, but she straightened. "What he said. See that camera I demanded you turn on? I told you I'd run it through, twice. The suspect is dead; what's left is wrapping up this horror show. You're heading over the exact same material a second time, and my answers aren't going to change. If you can't find your answer on that tape, write out a list and ask me in the morning." She stopped, shook her head. "No, you may set up a video call, but I'm not coming in tomorrow, and you're not welcome at my house. You've been rude and condescending for no reason I can think of, so you're either an asshole, or you're trying to get a rise out of me. Either way, you're a stone fool."

  She reached over, turned off the camera, and grabbed her jacket. "Get the fuck out of my office," she said. "If you want to use a room, use the conference room down the hall." She glared down at him until he stood up, straightened his jacket, and walked past Bob out of the office. She locked it, and turned to go.

  "I'm not the enemy," said SAC Donaldson.

  "Yeah," said Bob, "you kinda are. What did you think would happen if you questioned an exhausted, hungry, pregnant woman? Rainbows and unicorns?"

  Donaldson said, "Let's keep this professional."

  "You first," said Xenia. He blanched at the look of a hungry predator on her face. He turned, and walked away.

  "I'm sick and hungry at the same time," said Xenia, as she led Bob out into the chilly night.

  "Eating is the last thing I want to do, but I have a nasty headache, and we both need sleep," said Bob.

  "Tacos?" she asked.

  Bob went white under his gray pallor. "Reynaldo's dead," he said.

  "Not The Taqueria," she said. "I was thinking Taco Hell."

  Bob nodded. "We need fast food. Get us fed and home."

  They parked and went in. The kid at the counter was friendly and perky, the opposite of their day. They ordered tacos and sodas, and ate them on hard, plastic seats. No one spoke to them. They got up, threw away the trash, and were heading out when Pastor Wilma came in.

  Wordlessly, she hugged them both. "Fuel," she said, pointing to the counter. "Candlelight vigil."

  "We could..." said Xenia.

  "Don't," said Wilma. "Don't add stupid to what already happened today. I assume you know about his mother."

  Bob nodded. They'd heard it on the radio, but neither one of them could be involved in the investigation. Ex-Officer Avery had shot his perfectionist mother, first.

  "It shouldn't have surprised me," said Bob. "She either denigrated him or put him on a pedestal, sometimes at the same time. Boy couldn't have turned out well, with what that rigid woman put in his head."

  Xenia stiffened. "We all have a choice."

  Wilma nodded. "I hope you two will go home and rest," she said. "Let the families mourn with their candles and songs at the vigil."

  "We should check on Francine," said Xenia.

  "Already did, and she's the one that set up the vigil," said Wilma. "She's been on Omar to retire, and they will now, I think."

  "Damn," said Xenia. "Best pie in the county."

  Wilma smiled a tired smile that didn't reach her eyes. "The congregation's counting on me to bring the junk food," she said. "I only came in because I saw your cars." She smiled sadly. "Go home, and mourn together."

  Bob followed Xenia to the house. They wordlessly took off their jackets, boots and belts. "Gonna have to get new jackets," said Xenia. They were torn, scuffed, and the leather hid the bloodstains.

  They locked up their service pistols, and wordlessly threw the rest of their clothes in the trash, except for the jeans they'd changed into. They got into the shower, and washed each other, both crying wordless tears. Xenia sunk to the bottom of the shower, and Bob held her as they both cried until the water ran cold. They dried each other off, and Bob dried Xenia's hair partway. She braided it on one side in Valkyrie braids. They put on underwear, flannel pajamas, and thick socks, and held each other until the nightmares hit. Then, they took turns waking each other up, turning on the light, and looking at the lighted numbers of the bedside clock to see that they weren't still in the world of blood and cordite. They finally fell asleep at dawn.

  Daylight

  Ajai was carefully positioning the shipping labels inside the plastic covers when her phone buzzed. She sealed them, then walked them to the door. Pickup was in a few minutes; she was cutting it close. The dogs followed her, smiling doggy smiles and hoping she would give them doggy cookies. She opened her phone, and saw the Old Norse. She grabbed the How to Take Care of the Dogs, How to Clean Ghost and Killa's House, and How to Package the Deliveries files on her phone, and emailed them to Willow and Ruby. Both of them had real-world classes to take care of; Ajai had three days before her next face-to-face class. She ran to the refrigerator, opened it, then grabbed cans of cola and bottles of water and iced coffee. She threw them into a plastic bag, along with some blue frozen packs. She then pulled out sandwiches and little containers of fruit, and put them in another bag with more blue packs.

  The doorbell rang, and she had to keep from throwing the boxes at the pickup guy. She handed them to him, one by one, so he could scan them, and he took them away. She shut the door, handed out dog treats in exchange for doggy kisses, stuffed her backpack full of cold bags, put on her leathers, and was just in time to catch the elevator. She went to her pride and joy, filled up her saddlebags with the cold food and drinks, and stowed her backpack. Next, she was off to fill up her gas tank for the ride to Pahrump. Her mama, Rota, was on the road ahead of her. They met up at a convenience store along the road where Rota filled up her own backpacks with blue packs, sandwiches, snacks, and drinks.

  Rota clasped her daughter to her. "Hear it's real-bad, lots of casualties," said Ajai.

  "News is sketchy," sai
d Rota. "Let's ride."

  Glass littered the sidewalk. The coroner had taken away Baby Avery's body, and Skuld was being interviewed by police. She had her phone out and so did the cop, both recording the conversation. Rota nodded to her wife, and Ajai inclined her head. Skuld gave the briefest nod, and turned back to the interview.

  They set up "shop" at the far end of the coffee shop sidewalk, with two TV trays scavenged from the local hardware store. Anyone with a uniform or a badge, or who was covered in blood or smashed glass, got sandwiches and their choice of drinks. The local 7-11 owner came out with coolers, ice, snacks, and cases of drinks; Ajai stopped to open the coolers and fill them up. A passing Valkyrie grabbed the empty boxes, smashed them, and took them to be recycled.

  Herja herself came by with Devastator, her Iron Knight love. They brought real tables in Devastator's truck, and loads of snack food in cardboard boxes from a local store.

  "Need sugar and caffeine to keep going," said Herja. "This is a fucking long haul. Take days to get it all nailed down." They set up a generator, plugged in a portable heater, and brought out stacks of blankets and started handing them out. "Ladies Auxiliary got the other side," said Herja.

  Devastator and Herja bought thermoses at a local box store and a giant coffee tureen. They washed everything, plugged in the tureen, and began passing out filled thermoses. Herja and Devastator set up a tent and chairs so the responders could get out of the wind. Local and county cops, the coroner and her staff, firefighters, EMTs, and FBI all got the food and coffee. The Red Cross showed up, and Skuld contacted Xenia about where to send them. The Red Cross went to the local VW hall just down the street, and gladly took blankets, coffee, biscuits, and a second tureen with them.

  When dusk started to come down, they took turns going to get some dinner in warm restaurants, then came back to the tent. They moved the tent over to be just outside the police tape, and turned it so the cops could simply lift the tape and walk in.

  Mist came to take over the tent with two baby Valkyries, like Ajai. "I'm going back to the garage," said Skuld. "Got two bikes I promised would be ready by morning, and I keep my word."

  "I'll help," said Ajai.

  Skuld and Rota hugged their daughter. "We'll see what needs to be done," said Rota. "Go." They touched foreheads, and Ajai went to build bikes in the dark.

  Herja's team was there, Pila and Jedda, banging out the work to a screaming beat. Pila had blue-black hair done in tiny braids on one side, studs in her ears, and nearly every part of her face pierced. Jedda had a round face, pink hair in the Valkyrie side braids, and black lipstick. Both ladies moved as if they were born with tools in their hands. Herja gave Ajai a toolbelt, and they went at it.

  Herja had the habit of screaming the lyrics to the thrash metal songs as she worked, and Ajai got quite the musical education that night. She also helped finish two Harleys, a gorgeous maroon three-wheeler and an all-chrome, custom job. Ghost had taught her how to weld the perfect bead.

  "Shit, girl," said Pila, coming over to look. "You goin' to Colorado?" referring to an excellent school for Harley mechanics there.

  "Getting my business associate's degree first," Ajai said.

  "Smart," said Pila. "I'm getting mine in the mornings."

  "Good," said Ajai. They worked steadily, and were done with everything they could do by three am.

  "Come on," said Herja. "Pie. I'm buying."

  "I want that chocolate silk pie," said Pila, putting away the broom and hanging up her apron.

  "Fuck that," said Jedda. "Peanut butter toffee. That's the way to go."

  They rode to the local pie restaurant inside a small casino, and had incredible pie. Herja saw Ajai to the red-roofed hotel just out of town, where her parents had left her a key to her own room. She checked in, took a shower, and crashed.

  Xenia and Bob each ate breakfast bars. Neither one could stand to eat a real meal; food tasted like ground glass and ashes to them. They filled up their thermoses with coffee for Bob, and tea for Xenia.

  "Love the new ones," said Xenia, holding her blue one up. "Skuld and her merry band did good."

  "I'll never forget your pouring yourself coffee at a crime scene."

  "Not exactly contaminating anything," said Xenia. "Shooter was dead." She took a sip, grimaced. "I prefer tea with my caffeine."

  "Sorry," said Bob.

  "I'm riding with you," said Xenia. "Even if I don't put in a full day, I have to check in."

  "You sure?" asked Bob, throwing away the wrapper to his almond cranberry bar.

  "I'll take the bike, so I can make a quick getaway if need be." She packed up her laptop and a TV tray, and put them by the door to go in Bob's SUV.

  "Alrighty then," said Bob. They showered, put on their uniforms, petted the cat, grabbed the laptop and TV tray, and went to Bob's office.

  Donald Avery was standing outside the police station, cup of coffee forgotten in his hand. "Don," said Bob. Don turned, and stared right through Bob. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. "Let's go in," Bob said. "Sit down awhile." Bob led the dazed man into the station, and marched him past Luce, his admin.

  Xenia followed with the laptop backpack, her thermos, some notes, and the TV tray. She set up the tray in Bob's office, attaching the TV tray to the end of desk. She put her laptop on it, plugged it in, and booted it up as Bob sat Don down. She knew she'd be ignored; she was counting on it.

  "What can I do for you, Don?" asked Bob.

  "I knew," said Don.

  "That he was going to kill your ex-wife?" asked Bob. "Or that he was going to the diner?"

  "What? No. I knew he was a grenade with the pin pulled out."

  The best description of Marcel Avery I've ever heard, thought Xenia.

  Bob nodded. "When did you last speak to Marcel?"

  "I know what everyone called him, ‘Baby Avery.’ His mom started with that. I told her to stop, but she never listened to anyone. Got more narrow-minded in her thinking, more rigid, almost every damn day. Believed anything any preacher on TV said, too." He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced. "She expected him to be perfect, to the line, her line. He broke his little boy heart doing it. I told her to calm down, back off, parenting is a journey, not a race. She..." Tears streamed down his face. "I tried to get custody, but she was on so many boards by then. Got some holidays and two weekends a month, not nearly enough to shore him up after she would tear him down and praise him, sometimes in the same two breaths. By the time he was twelve, she had him convinced I was the Devil. Wouldn't meet with me, no matter what the courts said. So, I let him go." Don put his head in his hands, and choked out sobs.

  Bob took out some tissues and handed them to Don. “It’s alright,” said Bob.

  "I was so proud," he said. "When he graduated from the police academy. Went to his graduation. Told him so. But he was so skinny, so angry. Wanted nothing to do with me."

  "I told him you were a good man," said Bob. "He..."

  "Had a cement head, just like his mother," said Don. "Didn't hear a word you said, did he?" Bob slowly shook his head. "I saw you with him, how you tried to mentor him. He got into those… those video games. His mama told me about it when she was yelling at me in the supermarket, once. How I never played baseball with him, got him out of the house, away from those games." He smiled through his tears. "I lost it, then. Told her about all the weekends, the baseball games, fishing, science fairs, and long walks we had, and how she destroyed all that by telling him over and over what a son-of-a-bitch his father was. I never," he said, stabbing the air with a finger, "ever missed one child support payment, or one alimony payment. I worked my way up at the bank, the very slow way, but I did it. Loan manager," he said. "Not that she gave a damn." He smiled again. "I gave her what for, right in front of God, and everybody."

  “This is healthy to let this out. Keep going,” said Bob, kindly.

  His face crumpled. "Of course, that means she put up even more walls so she didn't have to hear how she was wrong. Tol
d herself and anyone that would listen that it was my fault. I never cheated, never lied. I just couldn't stay married to..." He took in a deep breath. "A controlling stone-cold bitch."

  “Yes,” said Bob.

  Don took another breath and wiped his streaming eyes. "The video games weren't the problem, not really. It was because he couldn't make and keep friends because he was awkward and he just didn't listen. So, he withdrew into a world where he was a hero." Don heaved in a breath that sounded like he was an asthmatic smoker. "When he killed the dog, I was heartbroken. Who does that? I tried talking, but I was wasting my breath. I offered to buy another dog, but the guy said no, that he was suing Avery. His mom... she lost two of her positions, did you know that? Two committees. And more of them were gonna vote her out, on account of she couldn't hear anyone speaking bad about her little boy. The school board wouldn't give her the time of day."

  "I didn't know that," said Bob. "She was agitating to get me fired. Then, Avery pulled a gun on a shooting victim in a hospital, who was standing in the hallway waiting to see if her friends would live or die after a shooting." Don grimaced.

  "And on me," said Xenia, quietly. "I was there."

  "Why didn't you arrest him?" asked Don. "He wouldn't be dead if he was in jail!"

  Xenia worked her jaw. "I seriously considered it. But, he had a lot of weapons on him, and we were in a hospital, and he wasn't working with a full deck. I was afraid he'd hurt civilians. I gave the case to Internal Affairs."

  "I'm afraid the rules are a little different for us. He got fired," said Bob. "Then sued, which effectively prevented him from ever working in law enforcement again."

  "He shouldn't be," said Don. His face crumpled as he realized he hadn't spoken about his son in the past tense.

  "I agree," said Bob. "I followed departmental policy, and went way past it with trying to teach him how to be a cop. But, he didn't get that it was about making sure Irma at the post office had a nice day, and that Victoria's hardware store didn't get broken into. Or just having a cup of coffee at the diner to hear all the gossip."