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“We talk to Sam Dillon,” Director Kemp said.
Corbett called Hank to tell him he was delayed, but Hank said he was sitting comfortably on Ridge and Raven’s sofa, sipping iced tea. He told Corbett another day was fine… or two.
Corpus Christi, Texas
DEA Field Office
Early Tuesday Evening
As they satin the small office and waited for Sam to arrive, Gomez suddenly looked at Corbett and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be in some biker bar in San Antonio this week? I got so caught up in this other shit… Damn! I forgot what else we had going on.”
“Yeah,” Corbett sighed. “It’s okay, though. They think I’m hashing out a gun deal with some Nomads I claim to know. If they walked in right now and saw me in this suit and tie with my haircut, they wouldn’t give me a second glance.”
Corbett had recently gotten himself involved with an outlaw biker gang that was reportedly running guns in from California. He was putting his beloved Harley that his brother had left him to good use… and, he thought, putting this cartel business behind him.
“Do you really have gun-running contacts?” the director asked him, interested.
“I’ve been trying to get in with these guys for over a year now. They’re tight, mostly family, or family of crews out of state. I pinched a couple of guys about six months ago. I got lucky while I was working this drug cartel case, actually. The gun runners were next on the hit list of the boss of my informant Barry. He was trying to clean out the competition in San Antonio. I went in as one of them, a kid of a nomad out west. That nomad died in prison a few years ago, and I happen to know his kid. He’s actually an accountant, and more legit than me. Anyway, he changed his name and cut ties a while before the old man died. I just sort of borrowed his identity. I told these guys I had a business associate that said they’d been fingered for a hit. Told them when and where it was going down, and when they ended up with the upper hand over the hit men, I was in like Flint.”
“Well, we’ll try not to eat up too much of your time with this case,” Gomez told him.
“The drug business here in Texas is run by the cartels, but these bikers are shit-deep in it too. I think they could go hand in hand if I play it right. First, though, we need to figure out what’s happening with Sam and make sure his family is safe.”
On cue, Sam strolled into the office whistling, until he saw Director Kemp sitting in Gomez’s desk chair. He stopped in his tracks and looked around at the other three men in the room. Lewis, Freeman, and especially Corbett were unable to hide the accusation in their eyes. Sam didn’t bother to ask what they knew, or how. He sat down, put his head in his hands, and said, “I can explain.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
THE DISAPPEARANCE
Pendale Springs, Texas
Wednesday Morning, 6:00 A.M.
“Hank, wake up!”
Raven was yelling at him. Why was his sister yelling? He hadn’t done anything wrong… lately. He opened one eye, and he could see her tiny frame looming above him.
“What? Why? It’s still dark. What time is it?” He tried to roll back into the couch where he had spent the night and go back to sleep, but Raven was having none of it.
She put her hand on his shoulder and said, “Come on, Hank, Corbett is coming to talk to you this morning, remember? You need to wake up.”
Hank growled, literally, like an animal. “Why the fuck does everyone here in Pleasantville get up so fucking early!” he moaned.
Ridge’s voice floated in from the kitchen. “Hey! Watch your mouth. Pleasantville has been good to you.”
Raven giggled, and Hank rolled his eyes as he sat up and said, “Fucking Mayberry.”
“Go wash your face and brush your teeth,” Raven instructed, waving her hand under her nose and making a face.
“And wash that mouth out with soap while you’re in there,” Ridge hollered. “Aunt Bee would roll over in her grave if she heard you talking like that.”
Hank stood up and looked at his sister and then over his shoulder at Ridge, who had come into the living room with a tray that held a little pot of coffee and all the fixings. Hank really couldn’t believe this place. He looked up at the clock on the wall. It read 6:05.
“Shit!” he said. “What time is Barney Fife coming?”
A voice behind him said, “Already here… Gomer.”
Hank turned slowly. Corbett Lindstrom didn’t scare him as badly as Ridge did, but he was intimidating in his own right. He gave him a half smile, and Lindstrom and the other SOB in a suit smiled back. He recognized the other guy as some special agent or other who he had met the night Raven had been taken.
