Kirk Russell - Redback

When he did, the cell reception sucked. The conversation with Roberts broke up, but that could be where she was driving through so he didn’t move again. They weren’t doing too well with the radio today either, some problem with a repeater this morning. Still, with the radio he was able to communicate to her where he was.

Now Holsing and Talbot came out of the house. Talbot shouldered a pack he didn’t look happy to be carrying. He tossed his cigarette in the grass and they started across the pasture toward brush at the base of the mountains and Alvarez tracked them with binoculars until they disappeared into the brush. Then he walked around the truck, reached in for the radio, and felt a rush of excitement as he got Roberts.

‘They’ve hiked into the hills with Talbot carrying a backpack.’

‘What’s that about? A backpack? Meth lab,’ she guessed.

‘I’m going to walk out and across the slope and try to get a look at where they’re headed.’

‘Brad, I think you should wait.’

‘I’ll be well above them and I’ll call you. I’m not going far, I just don’t want to lose them.’

He locked the truck and followed a deer trail into the trees and then across the slope a quarter mile through brush, scrub oak, and dry grass. Farther than he’d planned to go, but he could still get back to the truck pretty easily if Holsing popped back out. Up ahead, the slope dipped into a ravine and then the terrain looked rougher, but it was worth it. Holsing and Talbot weren’t up here on a nature walk.

He climbed down into another ravine, then up steeply through brush on the other side. He started to sweat. He should have left the extra shirt in the truck. The slope was humid as last night’s rain evaporated and it was tougher than he’d expected. It was slow going until he spotted a deer trail. Once on it, he found footprints and followed those down and across to a small stream, moving quietly now, watching everything. A stream would fit with a meth lab. They’d need water.

He worked his way down and kept an eye on the pasture because he was a ways from his truck and if Holsing headed for his van, he’d have to really move to avoid losing him. Then suddenly it was worst case. He caught sight of them coming out of the brush back into the pasture. Talbot still had the pack on. Holsing led and Alvarez watched him stop near his truck. If he got in it, there was no way to get back across the slope, down there and follow him. They’d been up here twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes, and he saw Holsing was going to leave. He stood near his truck talking to Talbot and Alvarez tried reaching Roberts.

‘Come on, Melinda, answer,’ but the call kept dropping after one ring. Marquez would be all over him for going out here alone, especially with drugs possibly in the picture. Marquez was getting more conservative and as he thought it over it made sense to search for whatever they had visited up here. If it was a meth lab, Holsing could do serious time, much more than he’d get for poaching sturgeon. I’m going for it, he thought.

He followed the stream down and when it happened, it was like, bang. He came around a tree and there it was, a little dam, a grow field, and a bunch of trash. He was looking at maybe two hundred marijuana plants. He got his phone out, took pictures, and wouldn’t need to hang out here long. He could easily find his way back. He’d bring Marquez, Roberts, and whoever the DEA or county sheriff sent.

He got photos of the dam and where they’d channeled the overflow down into the plants. Black plastic irrigation hose ran down between the rows. Bags of fertilizer were stacked along one side. He took a picture of a pump and a generator and a five gallon gas can resting on a dirt bench cut into the slope, then started back up, hurrying, because who knows, maybe he’d still make it back in time to follow Holsing or give Roberts a heads-up as Holsing drove out.

Several years ago a warden had been shot and wounded at a grow field in Palo Alto, but he figured the footprints on the deer trail were Talbot’s, though the pack Talbot carried could be supplies for someone taking care of the plants. He watched ahead, didn’t expect anybody, but watched anyway and still hurried. He made more noise than when he came down. He took another careful look upslope before climbing on to an open grassy patch, and there he stopped long enough to text Roberts. Sometimes a text message went through when you couldn’t make a phone call work. we’ve got Holsing nailed. he got

Alvarez never finished the message but he did press Send as he spotted a man up the steep slope thirty yards standing between two trees. He reached for his badge instead of his gun, and he got the badge up and heard a shot as he felt a blow and a burning in his chest. When he tried to breathe he couldn’t and the sharp burning spread rapidly under his ribs as he sat down. His badge dropped and he fell back and tried to roll on his side, getting some air, not much, and feeling for the wound, knowing it was bad and scared. His kids were at home. Didn’t want to die over a grow field. He pressed against the wound with his left hand and tried to get his gun loose, but couldn’t seem to do it, couldn’t make his fingers work.

His hand slipped off the holster as a man leaned over him and blocked the sun. Alvarez saw the man’s face and then the barrel of a rifle. He tried to speak, tried to reach his badge. He moved bloody fingers across the grass trying to find his badge, and then saw the barrel adjusting and cried out and moved his hand through sunlight toward the rifle barrel as the finger on the trigger gently squeezed.

‘ Lieutenant, I’ve lost contact with Brad.’

Marquez knew that Roberts would have tried everything before calling him to report that. Yet Brad was likely fine. Good chance the problem was cell or radio reception in the Capay Valley.

‘You at his truck, right now?’

‘I just came down from there. It’s up on a Forest Service road above me. He walked from his truck across the slope above Talbot’s house when they hiked up into the brush.’

She explained that and Marquez got a clearer picture. He hadn’t known about Holsing, Talbot, and the backpack.

‘Is Holsing still at the house with Talbot?’

‘Doesn’t look like it, but I can’t say for sure. His van is gone, so he’s probably gone. Talbot’s truck is there.’

‘And you’re sure Brad didn’t have any contact with Holsing at the house or on the slope?’

‘He drove past the house and then took a position on the Forest Service road above them. When they started up he hiked out across the slope above them.’

‘Rough terrain.’

‘It is.’

‘So maybe he’s up working his way back.’

‘Sure.’

Marquez heard it in her answer. She didn’t believe Alvarez was up there working his way back. She was scared. He went over the timeline with Roberts again, and then asked, ‘Was the Forest Service gate locked when you got there?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK, read the text message again.’

Marquez pressed the cell closer to his ear and accelerated away from the truck alongside him. Roberts spoke slowly.

‘“ we’ve got holsing nailed. he got ”, and that’s where it stops.’

‘How long ago was the text sent?’

‘Forty-eight minutes.’

And she’d walked out and looked for him, and didn’t find him and couldn’t get him on his cell. Forty-eight minutes and Holsing’s van gone. No way would Brad let that happen without communicating, so he was up on that slope. But maybe it was a badly sprained ankle and he was sitting in a ravine or working his way slowly back. But if Brad was anything, he was tough and this long out of communication he’d be worried about the operation. He would have found his way back to his truck.