The Investigator (Letty Davenport, #1) (57)

Jael argued that big corporations—she mentioned chain stores and fast-food outlets specifically—promoted the inflow of immigrants to keep wages low. She argued that when any city or town sheltered enough Spanish-speaking immigrants, the immigrants naturally had to learn English to survive—and at a certain point, all the surviving retail establishments would hire only bilingual employees, and push native English speakers out of those jobs.

Jael wasn’t all wrong, but she was mostly wrong. She wrote from a ground-level perspective that included only what she could see. She wasn’t a bad writer, for a propagandist. For every example, she cited a real-world situation that seemed to support it.

Her solution was simple: seal the border, round up the illegals who were already here, and drive them back across it.

We didn’t create the conditions that made them refugees. They should go home and fix whatever their problems are, instead of coming here and making problems for good Americans.



* * *





Before she went to bed that night, Letty called Kaiser in his room and said, “I have some instructions for you.”

“Do tell.”

“Yes. I got shot at. The Blackburns were murdered and Brody Rivers is missing. I expect that they now know about you and me, poking around. So make sure that ugly SIG of yours is loaded and put it on the floor next to your nightstand, on the side away from the door. If somebody comes through the door, you want to roll off the bed and land on top of the gun.”

Silence. Then, “Yes. I see. You’re doing the same?”

“I already have, with both guns.”

Nothing happened that night.



* * *





The next morning, Letty was getting dressed and not putting on a dab of her Tom Ford Fucking Fabulous perfume when Greet called from Washington.

“Getting interesting,” Greet said, cheerfully. “I’ve been digging up everything I can find, hitting every source I know of. Terrill T. Duran and Victor Crain were and maybe still are members of a militia that might be called the Land Division or Command, and might have been running around the Big Bend area in Jeeps and pickups with guns. Jael might be its leader. That’s gotta be the militia that Rand Low is involved with.”

“Lot of ‘mights’ and ‘maybes’ there,” Letty said. “But I found a book called ResistUS! by this Jael and I’ve got a pamphlet on the Land Division, so there must be something to it.”

“Good! I’ll want to see that stuff. They were supposedly chasing down illegal immigrants and holding them for the Border Patrol, although there were rumors that they also killed some of them. That last part may be myth. Not a single person ever came forward with any serious information about killings. Something you should be aware of—they supposedly had the tacit support of some local law enforcement agencies out there. Local sheriffs. Maybe some members of the Border Patrol.”

“That sounds bad,” Letty said.

“Be circumspect. Just because a guy has a badge doesn’t mean he isn’t a looney tunes,” Greet said. “We got nothing on this Jael, except the name, which has gotta be a nom de guerre. There’s a whole story about the original Jael on Wiki if you’re curious.”

“I’ve got a photograph, though she’s wearing a mask,” Letty said. “I’ll take a picture with my cell phone and text it to you.”

“Terrific. Where’d you get it?”

“At that shack where I got shot at,” Letty said.

Pregnant silence. “You know, without a search warrant . . .”

“The door was open when I got to it,” Letty not quite lied. She didn’t mention that it had been opened by Kaiser. “We knew a crime was in progress, perpetrated by the residents of the place. Besides, I don’t need a warrant. I’m not a law enforcement officer. What about Duran?”

“I’m not sure I agree on your status there,” Greet said. “But . . . Duran. We know he was there at the same time as Low. The prison rumor is that Duran was basically an armed robber up and down the mountain west, specializing in suburban banks. Nothing on his politics, if he has any. After Duran got out of Preston Smith—Low was already out—two unknown men robbed a bank in Lawton, Oklahoma, and got away with $39,000. In terms of body build and height, could have been Low and Duran. Ski masks over sunglasses, rubber gloves. They used a stolen car that was later found burning in a field outside Lawton. Very nicely done. Efficient. No DNA or prints. Nobody hurt, clean getaway.”

“So if that was them, they might not be total dumbasses,” Letty said.

“Not dumb, but probably crazy. I personally prefer dumb.”

“How about arrest warrants?”

“There’s a warrant out for Low, for the parole violation. You knew that. Nothing current for Duran or Crain. You’ve got those mugshots of Sawyer and Crain. I’ll send one of Duran.”

“Thanks. They’re the ones stealing the oil. Duran and Crain. Kaiser and I more or less witnessed it, though we couldn’t swear that they actually took any oil. We could probably set it up so the FBI could bag them.”

“You don’t think you scared them off last night?”

“I doubt it,” Letty said. “I doubt they can even be sure that there was somebody out there. They didn’t actually see me. They never saw us any other place, where they were stealing the oil or unloading it.”