The Serpent and the Crow

Book 2: Chapter Seven

Burying Dale was an effort, but it was the right choice. There was no sign of the sniper or casings. Except copious amounts of blood, which meant he was not alone. More than one person had to drag the body.

The detectives headed back to Armadillo, New Mexico. During the break of dawn, Douglas received a text from Jador and Cortez.

Doug said,"Do you assume that was the killer or some unknown that whacked Dale?"

"Who knows, Dale had a lot of enemies and dealt with more shady characters than we'll ever learn. We should check out if there is even a crop out near Redfern. He would've worked with someone. We should go back to the Hunting Club to see if he left anything there. He said something about the rifle?"

"That's right. The rifle the killer had, what do you reckon that was about?"

"Dale was working on a pneumatic rifle?"

Douglas rummaged through his pockets and pulled out an evidence bag. Red and green feathers.

"Did you see any green and red feathered darts?"

"No. But, he might have known the killer, perhaps shared interests."

Douglas responds, "He was a member of the Desert Creek Hunting Club. "

"It would make sense, that tune though, creepy stuff. Fucking hated it as a kid too."

"You reckon? Have you ever seen anything like this?"

Wade shakes his head, "Why there? He had to have known the hills pretty well. Well enough to realize that there were crop growers."

"Perhaps, he knows Redfern House or even using it as a base of operations. There's nothing there. Sure, the bones of the place are there, but it's unliveable."

"We should find out a little more about Redfern, considering it was a bunch of gangsters that moved it from Cold Cut, Colorado, brick by brick. There's bound to be places to stash secret shit. You don't what John Q Law to find out about."

They walked through the Armadillo Hospital. It seemed inundated with sick people.

A couple of patients vomited into bedpans in each doorway they pass. Douglas saw Detective Jador and Detective Cortez standing guard outside a door.

"Detectives," Jador said, "You guys took your sweet time."

Cortez said, "You both look like hammered shit. You guys busy sifting through the house?

Douglas said, "What house?"

Cortez said, "Your house. The one that burnt down two nights ago. You guys look dirtier than a priest in Trepidation."

It had not occurred to Douglas that he was homeless.

"I just want to say," Jador said, "Armadillo works closely with Hank and SPPD. We're going to get your little girl back, Detective."

Doug said, "Thanks. So, what are we doing here?"

Douglas stared at the Black Woman they rescued during the raid at Owl Creek. She recovered well, not well enough to be out of the hospital.

Wade brushed by, followed by the Armadillo Detectives. She was asleep, or at least slipping in and out of consciousness. Jador tried to rouse the woman with some success.

"Chardonnay," Jador whispered, "Chardonnay Arlington, can you understand me?"

Arlington fluttered her eyes. She smiled and nodded. The injuries to her capture, and eventual gang rape, and the cocktail of drugs they pumped into her to keep her docile must've been hard for the medical team to counteract. There isn't much anyone can do with these types of cases.