Chapter 44

Lincoln Steele strolled into the sheriff’s office in Bisbee, Arizona, shoving Mac Ruster from behind to keep him walking. It seemed the closer they got to his facing the law the heavier his feet got. Steele had left his Glock, ankle gun, and knife in the government car. Mac’s hands were still tied behind his back.

The sergeant at the front desk jumped up from his chair when he saw them. His hand was on the handle of the pistol still inside his holster. “Whoa! What’s going on?”

“I’d like to see the sheriff,” Steele said.

“The sheriff is a busy man. Can I help you?”

“This is above your pay grade.”

“I beg your pardon. I’ll be the judge of that. Why is that boy tied up?”

“He’s a mass murderer.”

The sergeant stared at Mac. “Son, is that right?”

Steele smacked the back of Mac’s head who, with his head lowered, nodded.

“I’ll assign a deputy to take down the information,” the sergeant said.

“There’s more to it than that. Like I said, it’s above your pay grade. I have information for the sheriff’s ears only. After I speak to him, I’ll turn this prisoner over and be on my way.”

“You don’t make the rules here.”

“The sheriff is an elected official, right?”

“So?”

“So it’s an election year. I either see the sheriff or I walk out of here and take this mass murderer to the FBI. I’m sure what I have to tell the sheriff will help his re-election. But if it’s the FBI that— Well, I think the sheriff would want the credit.”

“Wait right there.”

The sergeant sat down and poked a few numbers on his telephone. When he spoke into it, he did it with a hand cupping his mouth and the mouthpiece. He stopped talking and waited. Eyeing Steele. Then his eyes darted away from Steele as he listened in the telephone.

The sergeant cradled his telephone. “The sheriff will see you. Someone will be right out to take you to him.”

A short, stocky woman with gray hair tied in a bun and wired glasses waddled into the lobby. She looked at Steele and then the sergeant. He nodded.

“Come this way,” she said to Steele.

The woman turned and walked toward the rear. She never once looked back to check if Steele was following. The sheriff’s assistant was used to people following her orders. Steele smiled. He had a staff sergeant like that. Although Sergeant Joyce Krueger had been much younger—and prettier. And just as fierce in bed as she was barking orders.

Steele was led into a large office. He recalled Captain Wilks’ plain office. Elected officials were treated better.

A tall man, bald on the top with short hair on the sides no longer than beard stubble, stood up from behind his big oak desk. His khaki shirt had flaps covering the two pockets, epaulets on his shoulders, and a row of four gold stars on each collar. A badge was pinned over his heart.

“What is this all about?” the sheriff said.

Steele shoved Mac. He stumbled forward before catching his balance. “This is the guy who shot the kids at Cactus Point High School.”

The sheriff looked at Mac and then back at Steele. “Is this a sick joke? We know who the shooter was.”

“You think you know. This is Mac Ruster. He’s the shooter.”

“Deputy Sheriff Millwater—”

Steele held up his hand. When the sheriff stopped talking, Steele turned and closed the office door. He walked back to where Mac was standing.

“That’s why I wanted to speak to only you,” Steele said. “Millwater is dirty.”

“Do you have proof?”

“The proof is standing right here. Millwater was on Marco Perez’s payroll.”

“The Mexican drug lord?”

“The one and the same. Perez wanted to send a message to the mayor of Diablo del Norte. Mayor Lopez. The mayor’s daughter was a student at Cactus Point High School. She was the target. Everyone else was killed to cover that fact. If Millwater had done a proper investigation forensics would have shown that Pete Bargas was doped and in no condition to walk, let alone shoot all those people.”

“How do you know about this?”

“I paid Perez a visit today. That’s where I found this kid. He confessed. And I also found a girl from Cactus Point who was kidnapped by Perez. Tiffany Alcox. I brought her home before coming here. It was another case Millwater wasn’t doing anything about, saying she was a runaway. He hid the kidnapping to protect Perez. And I have a Mexican woman who Perez forced to transport drugs. She was given to Millwater to be abused as a bonus. Millwater raped her.”

The wide-eyed sheriff looked at Mac. “Will you corroborate what he’s saying?”

With his head hung, Mac nodded.

“I want to hear you say it,” the sheriff said.

Mac looked up and made eye contact. “Yes.”

“Sheriff,” Steele said, “you should read him his Miranda rights. We don’t want any loopholes for a defense attorney. I suggest you bring your assistant in here with a tape recorder and record it all. The Miranda and his confession. And then arrest Millwater before word gets out and he runs.”