AllFreeNovel
Share Us
What we suspected is now fact—the XYZ Bandits donated at least some of their spoils for good causes.
I tell him what I learned from the San Antonio Police.
“Our theory about robbing from the rich and giving to the poor has a new wrinkle,” I say. “What if the XYZ Bandits are not just robbing from the rich, but robbing from criminals?”
He gives it some thought, then says, “Where are you?”
“Driving back from San Antonio,” I say. “I’m about two hours from home. Where are you?”
“Still in Snakebite,” he says. “I can’t show my face in Lubbock right now. I’m a persona non grata in Company C.”
“I’m a persona non grata in the whole division,” I say.
“I’ll meet you at your house,” he says. “We’ll work from there.”
I put my foot on the gas and end up beating Carlos to my house by only a few minutes. The two of us spend the afternoon on the phone and on our laptops, working furiously.
It feels good.
Partners again.
Around dinnertime, we’re both starving and decide to order Carlos’s favorite food—pizza. While we wait, we go over what we’ve learned in the last few hours.
After a long conversation with the FBI, Carlos discovered that the armored truck that was robbed was actually carrying funds from a crooked bank laundering money for drug cartels. The FBI is still confirming solid proof, but, as far as they could tell, the robbers didn’t take half of what they could have—just the dirty money. The guards transporting the money had no idea that some of what they were protecting actually belonged to criminals.
It also turns out the DEA has been looking at the shipping facility outside of Galveston that the XYZ Bandits hit, suspecting that they’re a major distribution site for drugs that come in from South America. Again, the feds don’t have enough evidence to start making arrests. But the XYZ Bandits don’t operate within the boundaries of the law anyway.
“Whoever is doing thisistrying to be Robin Hood,” Carlos says. “They’re not just giving money to the poor. They’re taking it from thecriminally rich. The more we look, the more it feels like this is someone in law enforcement. Or used to be.”
I take a deep breath. I don’t even want to say aloud what I’m thinking, but I can’t help myself.
“Now that we know what their motives are,” I say, “more than before, I can actually see Parker doing this.”
It feels like a betrayal to even say the words aloud.
“But he’s the one person we know didn’t,” I add.
“Do we?” he asks.
I raise my eyebrows.
“Just because we didn’t find anything in the search doesn’t mean they didn’t do it,” he says.
“What about the alibis?” I say. “We haven’t found one lick of evidence. Not a shred.”
I tell him that we can’t keep going on hunches. Parker’s last act as a Ranger was to arrest a man who it turns out was probably innocent. He wanted so badly for Jackson Clarke to be the killer that he ignored the fact that there wasn’t enough evidence.
“We can’t make the same kinds of mistakes,” I say.
“You trying to convince me?” he says. “Or are you trying to convince yourself?”
Carlos stares at me, and it’s clear we’re both thinking the same thing. Can we really go down this road again? If we keep looking into Parker, we absolutely cannot ask for any help from the Texas Ranger Division. And we better not be wrong.
Before either of us speaks, two things happen at once.
Carlos’s phone rings.
And there’s a knock on the door.
