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“Not really,” he says. “She’s retired and living on South Padre Island.”
“Shit, Carlos. Knock it off. I called for a reason.”
He quiets, all business for real this time, and I tell him about yesterday’s events, including Parker’s radical rant last night about the ills of society and the broken system governing it. Earlier that day, I’d been ready to exonerate Parker, thinking no one who loved his son like he did could be an armed robber. But after last night, I was more convinced than ever that Parkercouldbe our guy.
“What he said is interesting,” Carlos says, “but it’s far from conclusive. If every Texan who has a little too much to drink and starts spouting off against the government and big corporations might be one of the XYZ Bandits, our suspect list would be longer than Highway 83.”
“I feel like I’m on a roller coaster,” I say. “One minute, I’m sure it can’t be him. The next, I think,Hell, maybe it could just be.”
“Well, I’ve got a little news that won’t help your uncertainty any,” Carlos says.
“What’s that?”
He tells me that he looked into the auto shop where Parker’s friend Ellis works.
“They specialize in motorcycles,” he says. “They’ve got rows of bikes in inventory. You go to their website, there are a dozen or more that fit the descriptions we’ve gotten from the XYZ scenes.”
“Christ,” I say, and flop down onto the corner of the bed. We’re no closer to tying Parker to the crimes, but we’re sure as hell not any closer to crossing him off the list. “Well, we know they have access to bikes. But what about guns, explosives, diving equipment, everything else they’d need?”
“They seem like the type of people who could get all that,” Carlos says. “But we need some proof that they actually have it.”
I run my hand through my hair as I listen to Carlos talk about what he wants to do next. On the TV, the muted news reporter is talking to some children showcasing their goats at a county fair. The caption at the bottom of the screen says,KIDS WITH KIDS!
“I think it might be time for me to come to Snakebite and help out,” Carlos says.
“How are you going to square that with your captain?”
“I don’t know yet,” he says. “Maybe I’ll tell him my mom died. You believed me.”
“Very funny,” I say. “Just give me more time.”
“Okay,” he says, “I guess if you’re not in any hurry to get back to your girlfriend…”
He says it like he’s about to make a joke about my relationship, but I stop him.
“Don’t start about that,” I say. “I’m not in the…”
“Sorry,” he says earnestly.
But I’m not listening. On the TV, the news coverage has changed. Now a different reporter is featured interviewing someone next to a pile of cash bundles stacked into a cube roughly the size of a coffee table. The caption along the bottom states,ANONYMOUS DONATION TO STATE CHARITY FOUNDATION.
I jump to my feet and unmute the volume.
“Turn on the TV,” I shout to Carlos. “I know what they’re doing with the money.”
“Who?” Carlos says.
“Parker,” I say. “It all makes sense now.”
CHAPTER 21
THE SEGMENT IS over before Carlos can get to a TV, but we both find the report on KCBD’s website and an article in theAustin American-Statesman. Apparently, last week a highly reputable charitable foundation in the capital received an anonymous donation of two million dollars. The cash literally showed up on their doorstep, left overnight in garbage bags. The first employee in the door that morning almost threw the bags in the dumpster, but she decided to take a peek inside first.
The mission of the foundation, we discover, is to provide grants to nonprofits, specializing in programs that help Texas communities: food banks, homeless shelters, literacy programs.
“You think Parker is robbing from the rich to give to the poor?” Carlos asks.
“Yes,” I say, surprised that I’m saying the words aloud. “Nothing made sense before. Parker isn’t the type of guy who would rob a bank or armored car out of selfish interests.Buthe is the type of guy who would commit a crime if he thought he was actually helping society.
