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“Thanks, Raymond, I’ll get it to him.” She stood at the door and held both items.
“I’ll be around if you need me. Don’t do anything crazy, uh?”
A sad smile crossed her face, “Me? Not likely.” She let the screen close as Raymond walked to his pickup and drove away. Hunter went into the kitchen and put down the items, then saw Raymond’s car keys.
Maybe that was something she could do. Get Raymond’s car back and go see Anda, see what she could do for her. One thing about it, now she had lots of time.
***
Wayne Rockman walked out of his house carrying a small suitcase and two duffel bags, one with clothes and the other empty. He tossed them in the back of his Ram Charger and started the engine. The forty-five was still on his hip and he wore the same clothes as yesterday. He hadn’t slept, and hadn’t undressed, just sat and sipped at a bottle of Jack Daniels all night long while going through shoe boxes full of old pictures, placing the ones of his wife in the small suitcase, and tossing the others to the side.
The cemetery was at the edge of town, and Wayne was the only one there as he drove to the west side and stopped by the grave. Wayne got out and knelt beside it, then took off his western hat and put it down before brushing out the tiny leaves and stems from the carved letters: ANGELA “ANGIE” ROCKMAN. He blew softly, cleaning out the dust, then smoothed his palms across the cold marble until all the film was gone. He put one hand on the earth, like touching a lover who was asleep. “I’m sorry baby, but I’ve got to leave,” he patted the earth as he spoke, “Things turned bad, and I don’t have much time. I want to hurt this town, but I’ve got to hurry or I’ll be too late.” Wayne’s sense of loss made it hard to breathe, “I miss you so much, Angie…I miss you so much,” He wiped his eyes. “I threw away everything, honey. Might as well have sold my soul. There’s nothing left now but to do this thing.”
Wayne took off his badge and pushed it into the earth near the tombstone, “You were so proud of me when I got this…” A huge wave of grief overwhelmed him, and he made a sound, then covered his mouth with a hand. After a moment, he removed his hand and said in a choked voice, “I’ll see you soon, baby,…see you soon.” Wayne waited several minutes until he gained control, then picked up his hat, and got in the Ram Charger. At the light, he turned south toward Presidio. Those who saw him would later say his face had been as grim as death.
***
Hunter scrambled two eggs. Thinking about getting Raymond’s car and helping Anda got her out of the slump, at least temporarily. The dishwasher was full, so she put the dishes in the sink, then picked up the phone and called the Sheriff’s office. The secretary answered, “Sheriff’s office.”
“Wanda, this is Hunter. Is Wayne in?”
“He’s in Presidio. Said he had something that was going to take a few days.”
“He gonna stay down there?”
“He didn’t say for sure, but I think so.”
“He tell you where?”
“No, but it’s usually at Las
Palmas. Can I take a message, in case he calls in?”
“That’s okay. I’ll catch him later.” Hunter hung up and thought about it. She was going to OJ anyway, might as well take the gun and see if she could find Wayne and give it to him. Yeah, kill two birds with one stone. Hunter pulled the cloth-wrapped pistol in front of her. When she laid the cloth back, her heart jumped a beat.
The .45 Colt semi-automatic had old, yellowed ivory handles complete with the carved head of a snarling wolf.
She knew this pistol, had seen it many nights in her sleep, each time watching it cartwheel over the edge of the cliff at Santa Elena Canyon. El Lobo’s pistol. And Wayne had it. Hunter’s mind raced. Why would he have it? If he had it, why didn’t he present it as evidence to clear her? What was going on here?
Anger built in her, and Hunter rose from the counter and raced up the stairs three at a time. She went in the closet and pulled open a bottom drawer. In it was the .357 Magnum revolver and leather rig her father wore before he retired. She pulled it out and slipped the belt around her hips. It fell just right, the River Belt with the extra holes she’d punched in was supple. She pulled it tight and buckled it. The Smith and Wesson Model Nineteen rested in the Jordan holster, and three Dade speedloaders in their pouches held eighteen .357 Magnum rounds, all Silvertip hollowpoints. Hunter drew the revolver and checked the cylinder. It held six. She closed the cylinder and re-holstered the weapon. A green, lightweight nylon jacket was on a nearby hanger, and Hunter slipped it on. She put another full speedloader in the right-hand pocket so the weight would hold the jacket away from the pistol, just in case she had to draw. The last thing she took was a tan colored ball cap. A half-dollar sized embroidered patch on the front said State Champion. Below the words was an emblem of a pistol. “Bring me some luck,” she mumbled and pulled her hair back into a ponytail, sliding it through the cap’s back hole located above the adjustable headband. Pulling the cap down so the brim would shade her eyes but not interfere with vision took several seconds. When she had it right, she pulled on her ponytail and the hair hung off her neck and straight down the back, out of the way. Good enough, Hunter thought as she left the room.
She was pulling out of the drive in less than a minute, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. There were too many lies and tricks, and Wayne Rockman was by-god gonna tell her everything, or else. She held that thought as she passed under the green traffic light and sped south.
***
Hunter drove into Presidio and checked first at Las Palmas, but Rockman wasn’t there. She checked with the City Police and the Deputy stationed in Presidio, and neither had seen or heard from the Sheriff. Hunter drove through town several times, then went to the international bridge and asked if Rockman was here today. Not today, they said. Yesterday, yeah, but not today. Back in the pickup, Hunter followed a hunch and drove to the main filling station in town. The owner, Johnny Esser, was gassing up a Volvo when she pulled beside him and asked if he’d seen the Sheriff today.
“You bet. He went upriver. Hasn’t come back by yet.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Over an hour,…I don’t think two. Funny thing, I waved at him like always, and he stared straight ahead, like in a trance or somethin’. Never saw him do that before. Maybe all that stuff we heard he stirred up in Mexico has him preoccupied.”
Hunter wasn’t surprised Johnny knew. She asked, “What did you hear?”
Johnny looked at her and raised his eyebrows. “You should be tellin’ me. Folks said you were there in the thick of it.”
“Just humor me, Johnny.”
