Panzer
Harbaugh sat at Panzer's desk, staring at printouts and photos from three criminal records. The first one had been provided by the Odessa Police Department, based on the footage from the gas station's security cameras. The second and third were the result of Harbaugh grilling Panzer on pictures of the biker's known associates until the sheriff identified two men who might have been his companions in the bar two nights ago.
Jesus, Panzer thought. Only two nights ago. Feels like about a month since all this shit started.
“Winslow, Carter,” Harbaugh mused, flipping through the pages for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Thornvale, Jack, also known as 'Hazmat.' Scudder, Lane, also known as 'Oiler.' Formerly members of the Hobgoblins motorcycle club, now on their own.”
“Are you fixin' to do anything other than sit there, fartin' into my desk chair and mumblin' the same shit over and over?” Panzer asked testily. “Seems to me like the longer you sit there, the farther away that Carter asshole's gettin' with Billie.”
Harbaugh gave Panzer a wolfish smile. “What do you expect me to do, genius? Run around half of Texas in the middle of the night with a flashlight, going door to door and asking if anyone's seen them? No, I've done plenty. I've alerted local law enforcement in every town and county along their route. I called a few people and put a price on their heads. Ten thousand dollars to the man who brings them in or brings them down, I don't care which.”
Panzer's jaw dropped. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?” he yelled. “You'll have every skip tracer, bushwhacker, and bounty hunter from here to the Rio Grande out gunning for them!”
“That's the idea,” Harbaugh said coldly.
“But those crazy shitheads ain't gonna care about Billie's safety like peace officers would,” Panzer insisted. “They're psychos, they're sloppy, and half of 'em are either drunk or on meth. They're liable to shoot holes in her just to take these bikers down!”
“And why should I give a fuck?” Harbaugh asked. “Because you used to pick dandelions and go to the state fair together, or some such baloney? Sheriff, let me tell you a story. I grew up on the south side of Boston. Most of the boys I played with as a kid grew up to be felons. They're all behind bars now, though, and guess who put them there? So stop covering for lawbreakers, or else take off that damn star and give it to someone who can do the job. But either way, I'm going to see these punks dead or in cuffs within the next twenty-four hours, so you'd better stay the hell out of my way.”
Harbaugh got up and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Panzer felt like he'd just had a piano dropped on his head. He picked up the remote control and hit the Play button, watching the security camera footage from the gas station.
Yes, that was definitely Billie. Even with her mask on, Panzer had known her too long not to recognize the way she stood and moved.
And he didn't want to admit it—not even to himself—but yes, based on the way she was acting, it was clear to him that she wasn't a hostage anymore.
On the screen, the ten-year-old approached Carter, but Panzer wasn't watching him this time. He was watching Billie, studying the way she ignored the kid. Behind the holes in her mask, Panzer could clearly see that her eyes were lovesick and locked on the biker.
Same old Billie, he thought. Always going for the bad boys.
He hated the idea of her giving herself to yet another wild and reckless man who was no good for her. He hated her for ignoring common sense and spitting in the face of danger, while the people who really cared about her were worried sick.
But more than that, he hated the thought of her being hurt or worse just because this federal shitbird happened to have a hard-on for the goon she'd hooked up with this time. Maybe she'd made a mistake by laughing off Panzer's love for her all these years. Maybe it was a mistake she'd never make right or apologize for, no matter how much it broke his heart. But it wasn't a mistake she deserved to die for.
Billie, he pleaded silently, I hope you and that biker of yours have a trick or two up your sleeves.