I heard Tasha objecting, but I was already out the door.

  40

  I STEPPED ONTO the porch, the Glock hanging from my right hand. I heard the deadbolt slide closed behind me. This is not where I wanted to be—exposed, and without a firm plan—but sometimes you have to improvise.

  “That’s far enough,” I said to Caleb, who was no more than twenty yards away now. “Good Lord, does it get any more cliché than that? I can’t believe I said that.”

  Caleb stopped where he was. I couldn’t see Weldon very well from here, but I could see the oak tree he was using for cover. I moved a few feet to my left on the porch, and now Caleb was between me and that tree. That was the mistake Caleb had made—standing right in front of the porch, rather than off to one side. Now Weldon didn’t have a clean shot at me—not that I expected him to shoot without knowing how many people were inside and whether Erielle was even here.

  “Hey, there,” Caleb said, grinning. “How’s your face?” He was wearing a long-sleeved shirt, but I could see now that his right wrist was wrapped in a cast.

  “I guess it was hard enough to break your hand, so it was worth it.”

  He laughed and shook his head. “JD wondered about you from the start. He was right. Guess I was too dumb to listen.”

  “Hey, it’s fun catching up and all, but I want you to remember something. Don’t move from that spot. If you jump or duck or run or sneeze, I will shoot you. Do you understand me?”

  My warning made him realize the mistake he’d made, but he tried to cover it. “What’re you talking about. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Smart. Now tell me—why are you trespassing?”

  “Erielle took something of mine.”

  “The meth lab?” I asked.

  “It’s a motorhome.”

  “I’m sure you saw it on your way in. Take it and leave.”

  “There’s a lock on the door.”

  “The key is on top of the right front tire.”

  We both knew it was a lie.

  “Okay, but I need to talk to Erielle for a sec.”

  “About what?”

  “To tell her no hard feelings.”

  “I’ll pass it along.”

  “Erielle?” Caleb called out. “You in there?”

  “She’s on her way to Houston with a friend.”

  He pointed at her car. “That’s her Mazda right there.”

  “They took her friend’s car. She left after she realized you might be coming out here. Apparently you aren’t her favorite person. Go figure.”

  “I just want to tell her I’m sorry about JD,” Caleb said.

  “What are you sorry about?” I asked.

  “That he got killed.”

  “You know anything about it?”

  “Just what I heard on the news.” He raised his voice again. “Erielle, come on out.”

  “She’s not in there.”

  “So it’s just you?”

  By now their plan seemed obvious: Try to draw us out of the cabin and pick us off at the same time. As long as Erielle stayed in the cabin, Weldon wouldn’t shoot. I hoped.

  “I brought three of my associates,” I said.

  “So there’s five of you?”

  “Just four.”

  “You, your friends, and Erielle. That’s five.”

  “Jesus, are you slow or what? She isn’t in there. There’s just the four of us. Plus, the cops are on the way.”

  “Really?” Caleb said.

  “Yep.”

  “With the GMC sitting out there?”

  “You mean the lab?”

  “You know she stole that, right? Did she tell you that part? What will the cops think of that? Plus she asked me for ten grand to get it back.”

  If true, we could add extortion to Erielle’s list of felonies.

  “That was a storage fee,” I said. “Must be a misunderstanding. You haven’t paid her, so why not take the RV and leave before the cops get here?”

  “I don’t think they’re coming.”

  “Stick around.”

  “No cell signal down here.”

  “I called earlier from up top when I found the lab.”

  “Oh, well. If they come, they come. They can’t put anything on me. It’ll all be on her and JD. They stole the GMC together, and now it’s on her property.”

  “It was originally at your place,” I said.

  “I had no idea what JD was using it for. Neither did Weldon. JD was doing it all on his own.”

  “Good luck with that line of BS.”

  “I just want to talk to Erielle,” he said.

  “Ain’t gonna happen.”

  Now his eyes were cutting to his left. Erielle wasn’t coming out and he was getting desperate—thinking about jumping to the side, so Weldon would have a shot. They’d take me out, then enter the cabin, hoping Erielle wasn’t armed.

  “Don’t do it,” I said.

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t move from that spot. I already told you.”

  “Dude, I don’t even know what you’re talking about. Why are you so uptight?”

  I nodded toward the tree line. “You think I don’t know Weldon is out there with a rifle?”

  Caleb grinned again—trying to come across as the mischievous kid who isn’t really a threat. “We thought Erielle might shoot at us,” he said. “You can’t trust a thief like her. Can you blame us for being prepared?”

  “Take the lab and go,” I said. “While you can.”

  His eyes were really dancing now. He wasn’t going to give up.

  “You don’t want to be in the middle of this,” he said. “You can leave and nobody will know you were ever here.”

  “Don’t do it,” I said.

  But he did it. He literally leapt to the ground, but before his elbows had touched the dirt, I raised the Glock and opened fire at the oak tree, unleashing twelve rounds in less than three seconds. Dirt flew. Bark jumped off the trunk. The birds went quiet. Weldon ducked behind the tree after the first shot.

  Caleb was on the ground, cradling his head. I could see him in my peripheral vision, but my focus was on Weldon.

  I said, “Caleb, if you get up, you’re a dead man.”

  Weldon peeked from behind the tree, so I fired another shot, then another one, just for emphasis. Weldon disappeared behind the tree again and stayed put.

  I took one second to look at Caleb and fire a single shot into the dirt about two feet from him.

  “Jesus!” Caleb said. “Goddamn! I’m not moving!”

  Then I watched for Weldon again.

  I had a few rounds left in the magazine, but I pulled a full magazine from my pocket and quickly swapped them out.

  “Caleb, you need to listen closely. You ready?”

  “What?”

  “Stand up.”

  He stood.

  “Step over here in front of me.”

  He did as he was told, and now he was between me and the big oak once again.

  “Now start walking toward Weldon. Slowly.”

  He walked and I followed. I could see around him enough to watch for Weldon. He remained hidden behind the tree.

  “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Caleb said.

  “That’s what they said at the institution.”

  When we’d reached a suitable distance, ten yards from the oak, I said. “Stop. That’s good. Don’t move. Don’t turn around.”

  Caleb remained still.

  I raised my voice enough to be heard clearly by Weldon. “Both of you probably know that Erielle is a pathological liar. She told me some interesting stuff, but she’s lied so many times, I don’t know what to believe. She even lies to her own sister. She lies to everybody. That means the cops and the prosecutors won’t trust anything she says.”

  “So what?” Caleb said, still facing away from me.

  “So your biggest problem right now isn’t her, it’s the lab. You need to haul it away and forget about Erielle.

  “So you didn’t call the cops?” Caleb asked.

  “You already knew that. What I’m doing here is giving you an out. And it’s not a choice. It’s what you’re going to do. Weldon, leave the rifle on the ground and come out from behind the tree.”

  “Fuck, no.”

  “That leaves me just one option, and you won’t like it.”

  “Go fuck yourself.”

  “Caleb, if he doesn’t come out, I’ll be shooting you first, so you might want to talk to him.”

  “Come on out,” Caleb said. “Let’s get it and leave.”

  “What’s stopping him from shooting us both as soon as I come out?” Daughdril said.

  “I’d like to,” I said, “but if I shoot two unarmed men, the forensic techs will figure that out in about five minutes and I’ll wind up in prison. No way I’m doing time for Erielle. She’s not worth it.”

  Five seconds passed, then Weldon said, “Okay, man. I’m coming out.”

  “Without the rifle,” I said.

  “Without the rifle. Don’t fucking shoot, okay?”

  “Stick your hands out first,” I said.

  Two hands appeared from behind the oak tree.

  “Okay, step out,” I said.

  Weldon slowly came out. I’d forgotten how big he was.

  I kept the Glock aimed at him as I went around the tree and got the .30-30. I checked to make sure a round was in the chamber. Good to go. I holstered my Glock and gestured with the rifle.

  “Now let’s walk to the lab.”

  Caleb and Weldon walked ahead of me, and we moved through the trees and met up with the caliche driveway. Tasha and Erielle would’ve been able to see everything that had happened so far.

  As we walked up the steep slope, I weighed my limited options. Obviously, despite what I’d said, I wasn’t going to simply let them go. I could walk them to the front of the property, get a cell signal, and call 911. But it would be better if the lab weren’t found on Tasha’s family’s property. She didn’t need that.

  By the time we reached the top of the hill, we were all out of breath.

  “Give me a sec,” Caleb said.

  “Nope. Keep moving.”

  We pushed on, and a few minutes later, I saw the passenger side of the motorhome about forty yards away. Daughdril’s green GMC truck was parked near it on the caliche road, facing away from us. He’d already turned it around for a fast getaway.

  By now, I had a better idea.

  When we were twenty yards from the RV, I said, “Okay, stop.”

  They stopped.

  I said, “Just so you know, Erielle is long gone from the cabin now. She’s probably at least half a mile away and you’d never find her if you looked. So you’re gonna take the lab and we’ll call it a day. I’ll be right here with the rifle, watching. Weldon, I want you to stand beside your truck until Caleb is in the driver’s seat and is ready to roll. Then get in and drive away. Everybody understand?”

  They both grunted an acknowledgment.

  “Okay, then go.”

  They resumed walking and now it was my turn to duck behind a nearby oak tree.

  The new plan: As soon as they left, I’d call the sheriff’s office and report the rolling meth lab, accompanied by a green GMC truck. Deputies would stop them, bring a canine unit, and the subsequent search would lead to the arrest of both men. Before the cops arrived here, I’d advise Erielle to keep her mouth shut until she got a lawyer to steer her through the mess she’d created for herself.

  Weldon reached the truck and stood near the back bumper. Caleb stopped at the door to the motorhome and called back to me. “I need to cut this lock off. Weldon has bolt cutters.”

  “Where?” I said.

  “In the bed,” Weldon replied.

  “Okay, use one hand and come out slowly.”

  I kept Weldon in the iron sights.

  He reached into the bed with his right hand and came out with a pair of red bolt cutters. Then he walked over to the motorhome and snipped the lock off the clasp.

  Before Caleb opened the door, I said, “I want to see you in the driver’s seat within five seconds.”

  “Yeah, fine,” Caleb said. “Now?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He opened the door and stepped inside.

  One second passed, and another.

  I couldn’t see Caleb because all the curtains were drawn.

  Three seconds.

  Four.

  Weldon, standing between the RV and his truck, said, “Hurry up, man.”

  Five.

  Six.

  “Caleb!” I yelled.

  It was possible there were weapons in the RV, but surely Caleb wouldn’t be that stupid.

  Seven.

  Eight.

  “Caleb!”

  Nine.

  Ten.

  The curtains still hadn’t moved.

  Eleven.

  And then the world exploded.

  I was knocked onto my back, dropping the rifle, as a hot blast blew over me like a massive wave. A shrill tone filled my eardrums. My bones were vibrating.

  I stared at the gray sky. Closed my eyes and opened them. Had I been knocked out?

  I felt no pain.

  God, the smell. Burning rubber. Electrical fire. A chemical plant.

  I tried to sit up but couldn’t. Rolled onto my stomach and made it from there onto my knees.

  Turned and saw that the motorhome had erupted from the inside, like a beer can blown open by a firecracker. Thick red flames and black smoke formed a swirling plume that reached high into the sky.

  There was no hope for Caleb Dimmick. None. No question about that.

  Weldon Daughdril was nowhere to be seen. All of the windows of the truck appeared to be shattered.

  I struggled to my feet. Still no pain. Inspected myself and saw no obvious injuries. Ears still ringing, but my hearing was coming back. I heard the raging crackle of the fire.

  There could be another blast, so I backed away. Turned around. Headed for the cabin.

  I felt unsteady on my feet, but I covered fifty feet.

  Then one hundred.

  I looked back. The motorhome was no longer in sight, but the column of smoke was climbing well above the trees. It would be visible for miles.

  Now I saw Tasha running toward me. The relief on her face, seeing me alive, was unmistakable.

  We hugged, and now I saw Erielle coming toward us, maybe twenty yards away.

  She stopped and fell to her knees, bawling and screaming.

  41

  THE RESPONSE FROM emergency personnel was immediate and enormous. Deputies in droves. Firefighters. EMTs. Forensic techs. Hazmat crews. I think I might’ve even seen the dog catcher.

  I was coherent and ambulatory, and my vital signs were strong, but the medical personnel pushed me hard for a visit to the hospital by ambulance. I declined—not because I’m a tough guy, but because I didn’t need to go, and I wanted to know what was happening here at the scene.

  Lauren Gilchrist, the chief deputy with the Blanco County Sheriff’s Office, took my initial statement in her unmarked unit near the front of the property. I’d met her once before, after Mia’s ex-boyfriend Garlen Gieger had chased me out to this area in his BMW and wound up rolling it. I found Gilchrist competent and professional then, and she hadn’t changed.

  “Where’s Tasha?” I asked her.

  “With another deputy.”

  “Erielle?”

  “They took her to the hospital. Her blood pressure was really elevated, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. Now tell me what happened.”

  I tried to give her a quick summary, but when she realized how complicated the situation was, she took me into Johnson City for a full interview with her and the sheriff, Bobby Garza. I answered everything as truthfully and completely as I could, but since they knew nothing about this case, it took nearly five hours. When the questions became repetitive and I had nothing to add, I politely said I was done. They could call me later or come see me in Austin if I hadn’t given them enough. By then it was dark and chilly outside, with a light rain falling.

  I’d called Mia before the interview and told her I was fine. Told her not to worry about anything she might see on TV. It wasn’t as bad as it might appear. And, besides, I was fine. It appeared Caleb Dimmick was dead, and probably Weldon Daughdril, too, but did I mention I was fine?

  She was waiting in the Mustang when I walked outside at 8:13 p.m.

  When I got into the car, she began to cry, and she didn’t stop for ten minutes. I just held her and waited.

  I learned the next morning that they’d found the remnants of Weldon Daughdril’s body. My understanding was that it was in pieces. He’d been too close to the lab and hadn’t had a chance.

  A day later, after they’d sifted through the burned-out shell of the motorhome, I learned they’d found nothing of Caleb Dimmick except bone fragments. He had essentially been cremated.

  They also found the barrel of a sawed-off 12-gauge shotgun, and that might’ve explained why Caleb hadn’t reached the driver’s seat within five seconds, as I’d instructed. Had he been looking for that weapon, hoping he could still take me out? Dumb, but possible.

  Fire department investigators were still trying to determine the cause of the explosion. Yes, it was a meth lab, but most explosions happen during the cooking process. Still, any open containers of the various chemicals used in meth production could have filled the RV with dangerous vapors. Or if two chemicals accidentally mixed together, that could create an explosion.

  How had JD managed to drive the lab for forty miles without incident, whereas Caleb had somehow set off an explosion within fifteen seconds of entering? What had he done in there? I had another wild-ass theory, and it goes like this: After Caleb and Weldon learned that JD had stolen the lab, JD rigged some sort of simple booby-trap, like a string at ankle height that might tip over a couple of bottles.

  Then, if he and Caleb and Weldon came to some sort of agreement about the lab, he’d warn them about the booby-trap. If they killed him, well, the trap would be waiting when they finally figured out where the lab was. Was I right? No idea. Would I ever know? Probably not.

  Four more days passed and Heidi let me know they’d just released a payment in the amount of $3,000,000 to Motorcycle Mania. That covered the $2,000,000 policy on Malcolm Shaw and $1,000,000 on Caleb Dimmick.

 

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