‘Those are SWAT team officers they’re lowering out of the helicopter. The pair trying to get away won’t get much farther.’
‘Whatever, man, if they shoot them that’s OK with me. They ought to kill those guys at the border or build that fence they keep dicking with.’
Marquez looked through the window as he talked now. He looked for movement on the slope below the helicopter.
‘I was in the DEA for a decade before I came to Fish and Game and if it’s a grow field up there and the two men trying to get away were tending it, you’re completely fucked, because when the Feds put you and Holsing in separate rooms Holsing will have something to trade and you won’t. You’re just another guy hired to watch the farm. Holsing will trade names. He’ll trade his way to a minor sentence and they’ll hang the grow field around your neck. You’ll do the real time. I’ve been there; I know how it works.’
‘Whatever.’
Talbot got up and plugged in the TV. Marquez watched him sit back down, pick up the remote, and click the NASCAR race on. He left Talbot as Chief Blakely called. He took her call outside. Everyone at Fish and Game headquarters was focused on what was happening here.
‘The CHP just found Holsing’s van on the side of an eastbound freeway onramp in Auburn Ravine,’ she said. ‘Sturgeon are inside and the California Highway Patrol is asking what we want to do. I can get a warden there to watch the truck or they can impound it.’
‘Let’s get a warden there.’ As he said that it hit him and he reversed himself. ‘No, check that, let’s impound it. He abandoned the van. Somebody met him, picked him up, and he’s on the run. He’s scared.’ Fear for Brad ran hard in him again. ‘Chief, can you text me a message that reads, Holsing stopped on 80 and arrested. He’s in Sacramento and has told investigators about the grow field and that it’s Talbot’s deal.’
She repeated the message he wanted sent and then hung up. When the text came through Marquez was back in the room with Talbot. Talbot turned slightly as Marquez’s phone chimed. He flinched when Marquez put the Blackberry screen where he couldn’t avoid it.
‘This is about you. They got Holsing.’
Talbot muted the sound and Marquez shook his head no and pulled the phone back.
‘Turn it off.’
Talbot clicked the TV off. He read the text and without saying a word turned the TV back on and the sound way up.
‘No sweat, Talbot, we don’t need you anymore. Let me know who wins the race.’
Marquez walked out but it didn’t surprise him that Talbot caught up to him as he crossed the pasture.
‘I didn’t even know it was up there. They didn’t tell me until I got here. I don’t even smoke the shit.’
‘What do you get out of it?’
‘Ten grand for keeping the Mexicans supplied with their fart food.’
‘Did you see our warden this morning?’
‘No, I didn’t even see the Mexicans this morning. I left their stuff for them while Jeff checked the plants.’
‘Show me. Let’s go.’
TWENTY-SIX
A county deputy walked with them. Behind Marquez, the deputy’s equipment jangled with each step. The trail twisted as the slope steepened and brush went from waist to chest high. He didn’t question Talbot as they climbed over fallen trees and pushed through the brush. He waited until they were well up the slope and following footprints, but all he could think about was Holsing abandoning his van, the sturgeon, everything, and fleeing. Higher up, the ground became muddy from seepage. Marquez smelled marijuana. He saw the edge of a grow field and stopped at a deep set of boot prints.
‘Lift yours,’ he said to Talbot. When Talbot lifted his boot and showed the sole, Marquez said, ‘OK, so this is your print here, but who is this walking next to yours?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not like a tracker.’
‘Was Holsing wearing boots?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘When did you talk to him last?’
‘He took off after we were up here.’
‘Where was he going?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘Didn’t tell you anything?’
‘He doesn’t talk to me, dude.’
‘Our warden said you were slow opening the door this morning. That’s because you needed to call Holsing first, right?’
Talbot wouldn’t answer, but Marquez knew that’s what had happened. Talbot called Holsing and warned him, and Holsing told Talbot just play it cool, don’t admit anything and tell them you don’t know me. Then he decided to make a run for it. That’s why he left his van on the side of an onramp.
‘Where do the Mexicans camp?’
‘Higher up somewhere. They drink the creek water and crap in the weeds. They aren’t allowed to come down. I just leave their food by a tree and let them beat the animals to it. When they brought me in to work on the house, I didn’t know about any of this. My old man was a contractor. I’m a carpenter.’
He kept talking about himself and Marquez heard dogs baying. The K-9 team had arrived and gone straight to Brad’s truck. They ran the dogs from there and the dogs were on the slope above and to their left. He couldn’t see them but knew from the baying the dogs were coming this way. Marquez looked at the deputy’s solemn face. The deputy knew something bad happened up here.
Marquez led now. He took in the grow field, the stacked bags of fertilizer, irrigation lines, the dam, and the damage to the land the growers always walked away from.
‘What kind of weapons do the guys tending the field have?’
‘I didn’t have anything to do with that. Jeff gave them those.’
‘What do they have?’
‘AK-47s.’
‘Did you hear any gunfire today?’
This time Talbot’s answer came very fast.
‘Nope.’
‘Did you climb any higher than this today?’
Talbot shook his head. He pointed at where he’d left the food. It looked as if he’d just turned the pack upside down and dumped the supplies out. He licked his lips and Marquez left him with the deputy and called Brad’s name as he climbed higher.
Above the small dam he picked up a trail and found a fresh mark that could be Brad’s. He recognized the Vibram pattern and followed the boot prints. They continued up through brush and out on to a grassy open slope, and then he saw blood on the grass. He heard the dogs and their handler. The dogs were closing. The dogs smelled the blood, he guessed.
‘Hold up, there,’ he called out to the handler, his voice suddenly hoarse.
The handler answered and then Shauf.
‘Is that you, Lieutenant?’
‘Yeah, Carol, it’s me, come on over alone. The dogs shouldn’t come any closer.’
When she pushed through the brush, Marquez was kneeling. A droning sound like a cloud of locusts buzzed in his head as he picked up Brad’s badge and saw a bloodstained trail of crushed grass. Without speaking they followed it to where a shovel had been discarded. He saw a mound of newly turned earth with rocks heaped on top, and went forward alone. On his knees he lifted away rocks. He brushed away soil. He dug with his fingers until he reached a dark blue collar and then skin. As he cleared dirt from Brad’s face a terrible grief flooded him. He stared, brushed more dirt, and then had to turn away. He looked at Shauf but couldn’t find words. He knelt again and his knee sank in the soft newly turned soil. Shot him, dragged him up here, and tried to hide his body. Shauf’s voice was leaden, dead. Her hand touched his shoulder.
‘Lieutenant, we shouldn’t touch anything. We shouldn’t be this close.’
Marquez understood that and stood and backed away. He lifted his radio, hesitated, lowered the radio to his side, as if he could change the truth. When he raised the radio again, he keyed the mike, drew a deep breath, and called it in.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The two men trying to escape across the slope surrendered less than half an hour later. Turned out they were Mexican illegals and didn’t speak any English. There was radio chatter as they were taken into custody. Marquez watched it from way up on the slope and far away in his head.