The Territory (Josie Gray Mysteries #1)(64)
Two local employees, jailers Maria Santiago and Dooley Thomas, were on duty inside the jail that night. Escobedo had already briefed both of them on their roles, the confidential nature of the prisoner transfer, and the volatile, life-threatening situation they were facing that night. After talking with them, he felt confident that both would handle their roles professionally.
Escobedo was sitting in the white prisoner transport van waiting on Bloster to make contact. Escobedo had changed out of his suit and dressed in a jailer’s uniform from the federal prison in Houston. When the National Guard caravan drove past the jail and continued on another mile to Main Street, he pulled binoculars out of the glove compartment and watched a man dressed in black jeans, cowboy boots, and a denim-style shirt riding a white Harley Davidson Super Glide escort the unit around the courthouse square. Escobedo watched in amazement as the caravan of four Humvees and two covered trucks wrapped the block twice like a parade route with the man waving to the pedestrians like a grand marshal.
He hadn’t planned on the addition of the National Guard to the equation and had no idea how they would fit into the scenario, or if they were staying around the courthouse or moving in around the jail. Escobedo called Sheriff Martínez’s cell phone.
“Why didn’t you tell me you had National Guard troops arriving tonight?” Escobedo yelled.
“What are you talking about?” Martínez asked.
“It’s like a city parade around the courthouse. Some crackpot on a white Harley is leading them around the block, waving.”
“That’s Mayor Moss.”
“The streets are filling up. People are cheering on the guardsmen,” Escobedo said, reaffirming his hatred for small towns, confirming his love for Houston. “Do they not realize the guard is here to protect them from mass murder?”
“Last word I heard from the mayor was that the guard was on hold until further notice. Let me give him a call and—”
Escobedo cut him off. “You don’t call anyone. The only phone call you answer is from this cell phone. Understood?”
Escobedo noticed the hesitation before Martínez answered, “Yes, sir.”
*
Bloster parked his cruiser behind the jail as a white transport van pulled in the back lot and drove toward the prisoner transport area. All the pieces were fitting together, which did nothing to calm his nerves.
He watched the continuing parade of National Guard trucks file around the courthouse. They added yet another variable to a night full of them. He worried some of the guard members might fan out to check the area and question him about his purpose, but as a deputy, he should be in the clear.
He shut his car door and felt as if every eye in Artemis were trained on him, his hypocrisy laid bare for the world to witness. He had reached the lowest point in his life, and he imagined his deceit and dishonor glowed from his skin like radiation.
After being buzzed into the jail, he signed his name on the sign-in clipboard Maria handed him and asked how she was doing.
“Not bad,” she said. “You doing okay?”
“Not so good. I had a shift change. Wasn’t supposed to work tonight.”
“It’s no good coming in on a day off,” she said, and turned back to her paperwork.
“I got assigned the prisoners. I’ll be organizing transport later this evening. The sheriff asked if I’d take care of this. I’ll get the paperwork all filled out and get it back to you before I go.” With his nerve endings on fire, he shut his mouth, aware he was explaining too much.
“No problem. We’re down a man tonight, and I’m stuck here at the desk.” Usually cheerful and talkative, she seemed busy and preoccupied.
He looked down at the clipboard in his hand. “What’s going on with the National Guard?”
“I’m not sure. I guess the mayor organized it.”
“Are they stationed outside, or are they coming inside the jail?” he asked.
“No one told me anything,” she said.
Bloster nodded and wondered at her attitude. She was usually one of the friendliest employees at the jail. He hoped he was just being paranoid.
“Can you buzz me back? I need to check in with the guard about the transport.”
Maria buzzed him through to the center of the jail, where the inmate pods were located. As the door locked behind him, Bloster slowed his breathing and took measured steps down the short hallway. He pressed a red button on the wall, and Maria buzzed him into the day space.
Just inside the door, Dooley, the day-shift guard, sat at a desk, watching three inmates who were lounging at a metal table, watching a TV on the wall. Dooley was a giant man who barely fit into the folding chair he sat in.
Seeing Dooley at the guard desk caught Bloster by surprise. “How come they have you working night shift?”
“Sheriff called me in tonight.”
Bloster broke out into a cold sweat. He had told Maria the sheriff had also called him in, which was a lie. What if Dooley and Maria talked and decided to call the sheriff to check on the schedule mix-up? If everyone remained quiet tonight, Bloster knew he could cover his schedule with the sheriff and explain it as a mistake.
“You here to cover me for supper break?” Dooley asked.
Bloster was starting to panic. He needed time to sit down and work through his plan again. He had to check in with the transport driver first and make sure it was set up as a legitimate prisoner transfer.