Decisions AUwA (Mature) 12/28/10 [WIP]

[greywolf]

“So, was it really arson?” asked Arthur Williams.

Under any ordinary circumstances the Fire Chief would have never discussed the findings of the fire investigation – or the discussions of the previous meeting – with a member of the public, but Arthur Williams was NOT just a member of the public, he was a county commissioner- the owner of a successful contracting business - but far more than that, the man was a local icon.

With the death of his big brother in Vietnam, Arthur Williams had become the inheritor of a political tradition that dated back to shortly after statehood, when his great-great-grandfather had been an early Lieutenant Governor. The Williams’s were one of the frontier families that had homesteaded the territory and they were an integral part of the history. In fact, fifteen years ago the fire chief would have predicted that – by this time – Arthur Williams would have been governor. He still believed that would have happened, had tragedy not intervened.

Twenty years ago Williams had married Janice Hargreaves – herself the only child of a rich and politically well connected family in Albuquerque. The young widow had been like a breath of fresh air when she and her five year old daughter had moved in to the Williams homestead north of town. Active in charities throughout the state, she’d been the perfect candidate for a state first lady and Art had been the perfect candidate for governor. Williams had adopted little Debbie, cementing his relationship not just with his wife but with the family of her deceased husband - themselves politically powerful.

For nine years the man's power and political connections had grown through his own skills, the family connections of his wife and daughter, and his wealth. Then tragedy had struck twice. The fire chief still winced at the memories.

The first had been trouble with Debbie. She'd turned to drugs as a very young teenager. Her parents had made every effort to get her help, but sometimes these things hit even the best of families. The girl had run off at sixteen - disappearing into the big town world of Phoeniz where the girl apparently had traded her body for drugs and a place to crash for almost six months while her parents had sought frantically to find her. Instead they'd gotten a call from the Phoenix medical examiner to come identify the girl's body. She had died of an overdose.

As bad as that was, that was only the first of two blows to hit Arthur Williams. Less than a week later his beautiful wife Janice was found dead of an overdose of sleeping pills, her tearful note blaming herself for Debbie's death and saying she wanted to be with her. Everyone knew that Janice had done everything possible to help her daughter - no one blamed her - but she apparently blamed herself. It had stunned the whole county and devastated Williams.

The man had gone a little crazy with the loss of his wife and daughter. Two years later he'd married again - someone not really appropriate for a successful politician. The Fire Chief hadn't thought much of the second Mrs. Williams - in fact he'd considered her an ignorant bimbo. But she apparently had one hell of a lawyer, and after only three months she'd left him - divorced him - and had half of his estate. Williams had slowly worked himself back - both emotionally and financially - and was once more a political power in southern New Mexico. They were talking about him as a gubernatorial candidate again, but it wasn't going to be easy and the man wasn't as wealthy as he'd been only three years ago.

"Yeah," the fire chief. "It was arson alright. We have one suspect, but the prosecuting attorney says we don't have near enough to do anything about it. All we can do is keep the girl under surveillance and wait right now."

"Well, tell me about it. Maybe I'll have some ideas you could use."

Coming from anyone else, it's doubtful the three men would have shared their informatin and concerns, but Williams was certainly a known quantity around southern New Mexico and he had an incisive brain that sometimes could really cut through to the heart of the matter. They talked to Williams for almost fifteen minutes. Finally he announced he had to go to the county council meeting and the impromtu meeting in the conference room broke up.

"Give me a few days to think it over," he told the three men. "Maybe I'll come up with something that will help you."


The Council meeting lasted about an hour and Williams went through the motions of paying attention. But his mind really wasn't on the routine business of the county. His mind was on Max Evans. He really didn't have any doubt the kid was innocent and scarcely blamed him for punching out the guys that had painted the water tank either. He was deciding mainly if it would be to his advantage to help the Evans boy deal with the Brighams. The elder Brigam had once worked for him and might listen to the appropriate reasoning - especially if it was backed up with a job offer. Their shyster lawyer - he'd not be much of a problem. Williams had a fair amount of dirt on the lawyer. It took him the better part of the meeting to figure out how it would help him to make sure the Evans kid was allowed to return to school and remain free. But once he saw how it would, there was very little doubt he'd help the boy with his immediate legal problems. It would be a good investment for future use he intended to make of the young man.

After the meeting he called up Bubba Brighams father and set up a meeting for the four of them - Bubba, the dad, and their lawyer. He smiled as he placed the telephone back on the receiver. This was going to be fun, and if the Evans heard about it, they'd feel like they owed him a favor for helping their son. That too might be worth something in the future. A politician has to think ahead.

[greywolf]

Max had been in the bushes across the parking lot from the clinic for over two hours. Sleep had been impossible for him when he had gotten back to his bedroom after talking to Liz - 'When was the last time you slept?' part of his brain asked him. He didn't know the answer and he pushed the question itself aside. He needed to concentrate on the here and now. He had left a not on the kitchen table for his folks saying he was going for a walk in the desert and come here instead. It was the logical place for Liz to come if she was going to go through with the abortion - the termination of the evil he had put inside her - and then he had waited. It had been simply luck that the parking lot had filled up with cars, forcing Liz and her mother to park near the bushes when they'd come to the clinic fourty-five minutes ago. At least THAT had worked out.

He had nodded off with fatigue once, but his mind cleared instantly as Liz and Nancy left the clinic and walked toward him. He barely breathed - hoping to hear what they were saying.

"So the procedure is day after tomorrow?" asked Nancy.

Max's heart almost broke as he saw the tears in Liz's eyes. "Yeah - I can't eat or drink after midnight tomorrow and only clear liquids after noon tomorrow. She'll do it here in the procedure room - she said it shouldn't be any big thing - but if there is any problem with the procedure - if something goes wrong, they want the option to take me somewhere that they can do surgery on me with real anesthesia - not just IV sedation."

"Liz -is that really likely?"

"Mom, it's just a precaution. They do it all the time. It's part of their backup for all procedures."

"Well, OK, then ...." said Nancy. The two kept talking but by that time they'd closed the doors of the car, and Max could hear no more. He watched them as they drove off, relieved that Liz was going to get rid of the parasite - praying that she was doing this in time. He decided maybe he could go home now - try to sleep - he knew he needed sleep. He was so tired he was getting careless. He needed to thin also about what he'd do afterwards - once Liz was safe. If he couldn't control himself, he certainly couldn't see her again. He couldn't allow himself to ever again do something like this to her - or to any human being. 'Perhaps you should just end it all....' the voice whispered to him. And that might be the best thing, he decided. But not now. Not yet. Not until he was sure that Liz had gottent through the procedure - thatshe was safe.

He slowly eased out of the bushes and walked toward his house. In one sense at least he was right. He WAS getting careless. The undercover officer in the unmarked car that had followed the Parkers watched him as he walked away, the deputy taking the camera and snapping a few quick shots before he started the car and followed that Parkers toward the Crashdown.

[greywolf]

Jim had gone directly from the meeting to speak to Jeff Parker. It was one thing to believe in something yourself - quite another to take a chance with someone else's childs life without even discussing it with them. He'd explained the situation fully, then sat back to see what Jeff had to say.

"I just don't know, Jim..." said the man. "Of course I know Max - although he and Liz have never been real close. Maria tells me that her - well, her moodiness since last year was associated with her and Max sort ofbreaking up, but to my knowledge they were never really a pair anyway. I know that Liz used to look at him a lot, and Maria would kid her about Max looking at her, but I thought it was just schoolgirls teasing one another. If they had any relationship other than lab partners, I sure didn't know about it."

"Well, I'd like to ask her about this - about what they were talking about at her window this morning. The fact that both he and Kyle were fighting those guys who painted the tank- well, that doesn't suggest to me that he's any sort of a threat to her, but the testimony of those deputies that he may indeed have had the opportunity to set up that gas explosion - that is somewhat worrisome."

"liz hasn't really been in too much of a mood to talk to her mother and me about her personal life. She made it clear to us that she screwed up bad and now is determined to make the best of this situation - but more than that - well, she was just not ready to tell us that part. We don't even now who the boy was."

"Could it be Max Evans?"

"I don't see how. They didn't have much of a relationship to begin with - then that apparently broke up before this happened."

"And Kyle said he wasn't at the party, so I kind of doubt it myself. But I'd like to try to get more from her. Maybe there's something she could give us that would help us to determine why she is being targetted and by whom."

"OK, Sheriff, but - please go easy on her. She's been through a lot emotionally - isn't sleeping well - I'm afraid she is getting seriously depressed. Her mother and I are supportin her but - well, she's had to rearrange her whole future in a short time - then the incident with the water tank ..."

"I'll try to be tactful and not to push her, Jeff."

"OK, then. Here they come now."

Liz had not slept since the talk with Max, and her feelings had run a gamut of anger, despair and self-reproach. She had actually wondered at first if Max was saying what he said to punish her for what she'd done to him - but couldn't get herself to believe that of him. No, it was more likely that he really believed what he'd said when he looked at her with those haunted eyes. She had to admit, it was possible that he'd worreid about this all of his life - that any child he produced would be deformed or insane. Perhaps that was why he had paid no attention to any girls why Isabel had paid no serious attention to any guys. He had opted to just not participate in dating - afraid of what the eventual result might be. But in her drunken arrogance, she had denied him that option. She had no one to blame but herself.

"Liz, the Sheriff would like to talk to you for a moment," said her father as she came in the door. She was almost relieved to see him. It should get her mind off of Max Evans and how unfair she had been to him. Unfortunately, it didn't quite work out that way.

It took the Sheriff almost ten minutes to explain the concerns that had been voiced in the meeting. Liz was quiet until the Sheriff mentioned the deputy witnessing the conversation with Max.

"You are spying on me?"

"No, not spying. You are under survellance."

"That seems a distinction without a real difference, Sheriff."

"Miss Parker - there have been two attempts on your life. That warrants watching over you - even at the cost of some of your privacy. Could you tell me what the conversation with Max was about?"

"I suppose I COULD, but I'm not going to. It's personal and it has no relationship with whoever may be targetting me - if I'm really being targetted at all."

"Well can you answer at least, has Max Evans ever showed any evidence of violence around you? It needn't be physical violence, verbal abuse perhaps, or anything?"

Liz shook her head sadly. "Max was the kid who took the classroom pets home when they were sick or injured and nursed them back to health. When we had to pith frogs to dissect for biology, I had to do it. He couldn't bring himself to kill anything," said Liz. She started to tear up then as she realized what she'd done to him. He'd been terrorized of having children, fearing they would be abnormal. A drunken Liz Parker had taken away his choice in that matter. The guy who couldn't ever bring himself to hurt anything was now having to urge her to kill a part of himself - a part of - them. Liz's eyes rolled back as if in a silent appeal to God to forgive her for putting Max in this position. She was pretty sure that Max would never forgive her. ''You don't,' the voice in her head shouted at her, ...DESERVE his forgiveness.'

Liz turned away from Jim Valenti, tears blinding her eyes as she stumbled back towards the bedroom she was now using. Her guilt was burning in her heart.

Before she was quite out of his hearing Jim Valenti heard her through the sobs say her final words to him.
"Max wouldn't hurt me - for all I probably deserve it for what I did to him - Max wouldn't hurt me."

Jim talked to Jeff about what Liz had said, but it was a mystery to him as well. "I wonder," said Jim Valenti, "I wonder if Max was some sort of a dream for her and when this happend to her .... perhaps she thought she betrayed him?"

"I don't know, Sheriff. To my knowledge, they haven't been on a single date," replied Jeff.

Jim looked up to see the undercover deputy entering the Crashdown. "Sheriff, I think I need to talk to you about what I just saw on surveillance....."

[greywolf]

There is an old Texas saying that a skilled politician can tell you to go to Hell in such a way as to make you anticipate it with enthusiasm and even be willing to buy your own ticket for the trip there. Williams had been a politician for over forty years, and he was perhaps one of the most skillful in Chaves county.

There were just the four of them in the room – the office where Williams did his business as County commissioner. There was a very wary appearing Lou Grogan – shyster-at-law, Billy-Bob Brigham curious and apprehensive, and young Bubba Brigham who just looked uncertain. Williams knew instantly that Bubba was the only one here who was really important, and it was Bubba he needed to make his case to. He decided the direct approach might be best here – so it was the young man he addressed as he started the meeting.

“Son, unless you are the stupidest sum bitch in New Mexico, I think even you have figured out that you have fucked-up in a very major way..”

“Now see here, Williams, this boy is my client, and I…”

“Grogan, shut the hell up. I’m having a man-to-man talk with this young fellow here, and that damn near automatically excludes you.”

“You can’t talk to me like that, I’ll sue you for defamation of character, slander…”

“Oh hell, Grogan, stop putting on an act for these folks. You’ve already got them for clients and this isn’t a court of law – and that’s a good thing for all of you, because I know the judge that’s going to try this case and if you try what I think you are going to try, you are walking right in to a meatgrinder. I’m just trying to do you a favor, that’s all.”

“What kind of a favor, Mr. Williams?” asked Bubba.

“Like I said, kid, you fucked-up. First of all with the party. Hell, that initiation party isn’t anything new – we had it when I was on the team, back when your daddy was still in elementary school. It was usually a lot of fun – a bonding experience – but you lost control of it. You let it get out of hand, son, nobody else. Fact of the matter is, you are lucky no one died. If they had we wouldn’t even be having this conversation right now, you’d be in a prison cell. That little Parker gal you were hassling? Hell, son, according to the hospital folks it was her that kept the Valenti kid from dying of alcohol poisoning. You provided the alcohol. Where the hell do you think you’d be right now if you’d killed the Sheriff’s kid? That boy’s all Valenti’s got – you would have been fortunate to survive to go to trial. But instead of being grateful – you go after the girl? Real dumb, son, real dumb. Oh, I know why you did it – you were egged on by that little Troy girl. Well let me tell you son, the little bitch was going to spread her legs for you no matter if you went after Parker or not – she probably does it for half the boys in the senior class.”

“I’ll have you know that you are slandering a client of mine,” said Grogan.
“Give it a rest, Grogan,” said Williams, “… it isn’t slander if it’s the truth, Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if the little slut is putting out for you too…”

Williams saw the look of fear that flared in Grogan’s eyes and rocked back in his chair laughing out loud. “She is – isn’t she? That’s what this is all about. She’s up on a felony charge for getting medical information out of that clinic and you are setting these other boys up to lie for her, aren’t you? What are you going to do? Get them to perjure themselves and tell the court that the Parker girl was bragging about getting pregnant?”

Grogan started to sputter – and Williams face suddenly got angry.

“Listen you fool. My company helped build that medical clinic and we subcontracted to a security outfit that covered the whole place except for the restrooms and exam rooms with surveillance cameras because of all the abortion protests. Whatever that little bitch peeked in to, they are going to have it on surveillance cameras in both profile and face-on. She’s going down and she’ll take anyone who perjures themselves on her behalf with her, and likely the lawyer that put them up to it as well. But don’t mind me – y’all want to cut your own throats, be my guest.”

“But it’s not right that my son should be injured like that boy injured him and get no compensation,” blurted out Billy-Bob. “His folks should at least have to pay for damaging him.”

Williams looked from Billy-Bob to Grogan and then back to Bubba, shaking his head. “Son, you weren’t DAMAGED, you simply got an ass-whipping. I think even you know that. But let me tell you, you will be damaged if you think that you are going to get money out of the Evanses over this. Right now son, you’ve cost yourself a year of playing college ball. You’ll have to go to some Junior College and play there – do well enough to get picked up by some four year school on scholarship – but if you feign injury to try to get a damage award – like this fool here has apparently convinced your daddy that you should do, you know what’s going to happen? First of all the Evans boys parents are both lawyers. They are going to drag this out in court – probably be two – three years. You better not be in the gym during that time. Somebody catches you pumping iron – doing any kind of workout even once, your chance of winning the case goes to zero. And of course if you DO win the case, your chance of getting a scholarship and playing big college ball – or in the NFL – it just goes to zero anyway. Do you seriously think that someone is going to recruit someone who was DISABLED? Or that they’d even want you if you told them that a kid two-thirds your size kicked your ass?”

Bubba looked at Williams – looked at his own father who seemed himself to be embarrassed. Williams was right. His father had been blinded by the thought they might make some easy money from a settlement with the Evanses, but there would be nothing easy about it. The parents would probably fight as hard in court as Max himself had fought him in the school hallway. He actually admired the kid for that – in fact, there was a lot to admire about the young sophomore – even if he wasn’t a jock – but it was more than that. Williams was just confirming the sorts of thoughts that he had been having himself. It was time to stop being stupid – at least if he was ever going to make anything of himself.

[greywolf]

The first part had gone rather well. A job offer to Billy-Bob to drive trucks for him- the promise of a summer job for Bubba - he needed someone to do the manual labor on the last part of the county road project anyway. This was all going to be helpful. He'd bid on the original contract without the long stretch of guardrail. When the county had found the federal safety money to fund the guardrail he'd made sure it was in a separate contract. Federal money required that the workers get 'prevailing wages' under the Bacon-Davis Act -almost three times what he paid his usual workers - most of whom were illegals who would come work a few months and then go back to their families south of the border. Williams would need one or two young strong backs to work this project - to place the heavy treated posts into the holes dug by the power augur and tamp the dirt back in around them, before bolting the steel rail into place. It would be hard, man-killing work in the desert sun. Even so, he didn't want his regulars to do it - didn't want them to get used to wages that were three times what he normally paid them.

Bubba and his two associates would be ideal for the job. They would all get wonderfully fit, make enough money for their first year of college, and be gone at the end of the summer so they wouldn't be around expecting those sorts of wages once the job was over. If he was fortunate, he could even see that they got some on-the-job training.

Williams walked confidently as he went down the hall. But he reminded himself it wouldn't do to get too confident. He'd been around long enough to have seen Judge Roberts in his prime. Even retired, he wasn't someone to take lightly. Still, he'd watched the man for over twenty years when he had been the senior judge on the Chaves county superior court bench. If anyone knew how to manipulate Roberts it was certainly Williams. The secret to doing it was to give him a good logical reason to be manipulated, and to make it perfectly clear that he wanted nothing from the old man but to serve the public good. That just meant making sure what he wanted actually DID serve the public good - and it would. It would cost a few thousand dollars perhaps, but it could probably be written off as a business expense. After all, the IRS didn't audit pressure treated timbers very often.

"Judge Roberts - it's been years. How are you doing your honor?" Williams asked, holding out his hand.

"Quite well, thank you Mr. Williams," replied the judge shaking his hand. He had never really trusted Williams - of course the judge considered all politicians somewhat smarmy.

"I am NOT trying to bias the court here, but I do have a suggestion should you find yourself looking at any community service time for anyone in your court. I know that you have that case coming up with a bunch of teenagers and I'm certainly not suggesting anything that would interfere with your discretion in handling this case it's just that - well, I have sort of a problem."

"What kind of a problem?" asked Roberts, looking at Williams with undisguised suspicion.

"Well, to cut to the chase, my ordering department made a bad error when ordering guardrail for the project my company's doing up north. He simply miscalculated, but I'm going to be left with extra pressure treated timbers and steel railing once the job is completed. My storage area isn't unlimited and the stuff is heavy enough that by the time you pay shipping, you don't make any money returning it. You can't even burn the timbers - the preservative in them causes too much air pollution. I talked about giving them to the city road department but since my company does a lot of business with them the ethics people thought it might represent a conflict of interest - like a kickback"

"I'm not sure I understand where you are going with this, Mr. Williams," Judge Roberts said doubtfully.

"Well, there are those three arroyo crossings just outside of the city limits to the west. We almost lost a woman and her baby there a year or two ago...."

Roberts remembered the incident. Arroyos were a problem in the Southwest. In other areas they were known as washes or wadis or by their topographical name - seasonal streams - but in the Southwest they were called arroyos and they could certainly be a problem.

The problem was the nature of the desert itself. It got little water, and 360+ days a year it baked. When it did get rain - usually from a summer storm out of the Gulf, it got lots of it and the sun-baked desert simply couldn't handle it. It rolled off the soil seeking lower ground and found it in the arroyos. Near the foothills there would be flash floods - a wall of dirty water coming down the narrow canyons at 40 miles per hour. On the flat - like around town - it was more insidious. There would be a slow trickle down the arroyo that would withing minutes become three or four foot deep, even in the shallows. And because there were arroyos throughout the desert, roads crossed them.

The Southwest had a lot of land and not too many people. Bridges over the arroyos were - outside of the main cities - out of the question economically. The roads would be rooted through somewhere the arroyo was relatively wide and shallow and that would work perfectly well for all but a few hours every year. But let there be a thunderstorm in the highlands above the crossing, and that same roadway would become potentially deadly.

People would try to cross before the water got too high, but if they miscalculated the rushing water would sweep them sideways off the road, down into a part of the arroyo that was narrower - but deeper. Drownings that way were not uncommon in the Southwest, and it was only fast action by the Fire/Rescue personnel that had saved that young woman and her child just two years ago.

"... anyway, I'd be glad to donate the material - even help out with caution signs and barricades - if you happened to find any young health strong bodies whose characters needed a little building. It would really help out those people who live out west of town, they aren't the most prosperous or politically connected - mostly just trailer folk."

Roberts was a little surprised. Williams wasn't exactly known for his altruism. But it really did seem like a good idea, and the judge certainly didn't see any down side to it.

"Well, I'm not sure the situation is going to come up, Mr. Williams, but if it does ... well, that's a generous and civic-minded offer, and I'll keep it in mind."

"That's all I'm asking Judge," said Williams. He shook his hand and turned away, walking back to his office with a smile.

[greywolf]

It was early in the evening, and Williams was up on his ranch north of town. He was taking a rifle out of his gun cabinet.

The rifle was a Weatherby Varmintmaster in .224 Weatherby Magnum. Williams had bought it decades ago in Albuquerque when his first wife – an antique buff – had been looking at an antique table at an estate sale. The daughter of the deceased man had no idea of the value of the rifle – he’d picked it up for fifty dollars, and the woman had been happy to get it. The rifle today was worth probably two thousand dollars in this condition to a collector who valued the rare rifle. It was a fine weapon and not many of them had been produced.

There was nothing inherently wrong with the ballistics of the rifle. It was designed in the late 1950s as a varmint gun – a rifle that would shoot a light bullet accurately at high speed for great distances. It wasn’t much of a game cartridge – that had never been the intention. It had been designed to shoot prairie dogs, coyotes – well the name said it all – varmints – at long distance. It was a niche market and the Weatherby .224 magnum had been one of the first cartridges to fill that niche, and under other circumstances would have likely been very successful. But sometimes, fate decrees otherwise.

In 1957 a little known company called Armalite designed a combat rifle – the AR-15 – chambered for the 5.56 mm cartridge. That caliber in English terms was the .223. In fact, the bullets fired by the two different cartridges were identical, and the ballistics were essentially equivalent – a slight edge going to the Weatherby. But over the next five years, the AR-15 was modified and adopted by the US military as the M-16, and vast numbers of them were produced – all using the 5.56mm cartridge. By sheer economy of scale, the .223 ammunition was markedly cheaper than the .224, and the market for the Weatherby Magnum cartridge – and the firearms that used it – disappeared virtually overnight.

Yes, to a collector this rifle was worth a couple thousand dollars – but that same rarity made it worth a lot more than that to Arthur Williams. It was the perfect weapon to use to frame someone for attempted murder. There was no way whatsoever that this weapon could be traced back to him.


Williams took the gun from the rack and dug through the ammo drawer to find the partial box of ..224 ammunition. The box contained 16 rounds – more than ample for his needs. McCarthy and Abernathy – Maria would have called them Beavis and Butthead – were more than a little nonplussed – let alone surprised – when Williams fired the rifle repeatedly into the swimming pool in the patio where they were each reclining on lounges – each having a beer.

“What’s going on?” asked McCarthy/Butthead.

“I’m putting grooves from this barrel onto the bullets. When I’m done, go fish them out,” Williams replied, continuing to fire until eight rounds had been discharged. Abernathy then dove in and retrieved the bullets. Both men followed Williams as he went in to his gun room.

The Remington Arms Company first produced the Accelerator round in the 1970s. It too had filled a very small niche – that small subset of hunters with big bore rifles who wanted to use those rifles to shoot varmints. The 30 caliber cartridges contained far more powder than the typical ‘varmint’ calibers. By placing a .22 caliber bullet in a plastic jacket called a sabot, these cartridges could send the same bullet downrange at velocities even higher than the varmint calibers. The sabot would tightly grip the small bullet during discharge but peel away almost immediately after actually leaving the barrel – allowing the .22 bullet to travel faster – and farther – than even the Weatherby. Remington discontinued the .308 version of the Accelerator cartridge over concerns that the cartridges – which left no markings whatever on the .22 bullet when fired – might lead to lawsuits, but a number of other company’s offered the empty sabots for reloading purposes. Arthur Williams had several boxes of them.

McCarthy and Abernathy watched as Williams carefully dried the fired .224 rounds and – wearing light cotton gloves – slipped them carefully into the sabots and pressed them into place with his reloader. He then took a primed 30-06 cartridge – placed powder in it, and placed it in the reloader – pressing the sabot encased .22 into the neck of the cartridge. He repeated the procedure seven more times – carefully cleaning the finished cartridges

“This,” Williams told the others, “… is the plan. Whatever the outcome of the juvenile court hearing on Friday, I expect the boy will be going back to school on Monday. Saturday morning one of you goes in to the high school – my company recently remodeled the place and part of that was installing new locks – I have a master key. You’ll need to find the boys locker – it’ll be in the sophomore section – I’ll show you on a diagram – and find his locker. They all have names on them. The combination locks are simple – even in my time you could usually feel them click, but even if you can’t get the combination – just cut the damn thing off. I haven’t cleaned the Weatherby but I’ll wipe it down carefully. Make sure you don’t leave any fingerprints on it when you put it the boy’s locker – I’ll leave one spent round in the chamber.
My company did the remodel at the high school and we subcontracted most of the security system as a turnkey operation, but I kept one of those turnkeys. I’ll show you on the plans where the video pickups are and how to avoid them, but even if you get videotaped it shouldn’t matter much if you aren’t caught – the tape overwrites every twenty-four hours.

Once the rifle and the rest of the unfired ammo is left in the boy’s locker – well then the interesting part begins…” Williams held up one of the finished 30-06 cartridges and looked at it admiringly. “Sunday night, you shoot these at the girl from the 30-06, make damn sure you wipe them down before you chamber them and make damn sure you pick up your spent brass. . These suckers will come out of the barrel of my 30-06 at 4100 feet per second. From the hill two miles away from the girls window – the bullet should drop almost 40 feet, so you’ll have to hold your aim high.”

“Shoot to kill her?” asked Abernathy/Beavis

“Well, you can try if you get a good shot, but at that distance the likelihood is pretty low. All I really expect is that you’ll get at least one or two rounds through the window. Then get the hell out of there, before the cop that has her under surveillance can figure out where the shooting is coming from.

Before we can effectively go after the girl, we’ve got to get rid of the police surveillance, and this’ll do that. When the boy opens his locker on Monday the rifle will be there. Maybe he grabs it and leaves his prints on it – maybe he doesn’t. Having the rifle at all in a school is a crime and when he was just in court the week before on an assault charge – and they match up the ballistics on the rifle they find in his locker with the bullets fired at the girl – well the police will have their culprit. He goes to jail and the surveillance on the girl goes away. After that even you two should be able to kill her – although I have to say you haven’t impressed me with your first two efforts.

But you need to do it at about 2AM Monday morning, when the Evans kid will be in bed - but only if the judge doesn't lock him up. If I've planned everything right, the judge will let the boy off - Oh, probably give him some public service time to do, but that will be it. Monday morning one of you goes by the boys jeep, drops a few of these empty .224 brass into the floor of his open top Jeep, and puts the rest of this box - carefully wiped of fingerprints - in his glove compartment - then we just wait for someone to notice them. The boy likely won't go to his locker at all - they all carry backpacks these days - but when someone sees the brass, or even if they don't, we can make an anonymous call around lunchtime, the Sheriff will search his locker. At that point, they'll have their suspect."

"What do you have against this Evans kid, boss?" asked Abernathy, arguably the brighter of the two men.

"The Evans kid? Nothing. Don't even know him. But they are already suspicious of him. When they catch him with the gun that was used in an attempt on her life, they WILL lock him up. When they do that, they will relax security on the girl. With any luck at all you Bozos ought to be able to actually kill her without getting caught. The kid himself? He'll almost certainly walk. Both his parents are lawyers, and as soon as the girl is dead - while the boy is safely locked up - they won't have any trouble convincing a court that the boy was framed. But by that time, the girl will be dead. Then we can work on the parents."

[greywolf]

It was a busy day in Roswell New Mexico

"All rise," said the Bailiff.

Judge Roberts entered the courtroom from his chambers. He had read all the preliminary material from the prosecuting attorney and the lawyers for the defendants, and already come to a tentative decision regarding disposition of the cases. The two boys who had committed simple assault - the Valenti and Evans kids - he was going to keep in juvenile court. The Evans kid had no prior arrests at all. The Valenti kid had the arrest for intoxication from the football team initiation and no doubt the young lady who got the DUI had saved the boys life. But he appeared to have learned from that and certainly it was difficult to fault the young man for being upset enough to come to blows with the three older students who had broken multiple laws to announce the young lady's indiscretion to the whole town.

The fact of the matter was that the three former football players probably deserved a good thrashing, Roberts chuckling at the thought of the painful three days one of them had spent in the hospital. The young female they were with, and Judge Roberts was certainly not about to characterize Miss Pamela Troy as a lady - was equally culpable and likely would have benefited from her own whooping, although the Judge came from an era when nobody but other females were allowed to touch females. Hopefully the Evans girl had thrashed her good as well. But the latter four - the judge's inclination was to remand the lot of them to adult court, give a little public service project to the Valenti and Evans kids - perhaps a little time working with guardrails like Williams had suggested - and that would be the extent of it. But that was the going in plan and Judge Roberts had an open mind. What actually happened surprised and somewhat pleased him.

A disgruntled appearing Grogan said," Judge, against my advice - one of my clients wishes to address the court personally..."

The judge looked down at Bubba - standing next to Grogan. "As a general rule, young man, it's advisable to follow the advice of your counsel,' he said, allowing as how Grogan was a snake in the grass and if there was ever a case for making an exception of that rule this might be it, '...but since I'm probably not going to be the judge who actually disposes of your case, If you've got something to say...well, out with it."


Across town in the clinic, things were also progressing.

Linda spoke reassuringly to Liz as she climbed up onto the table and put her feet in the stirrups.

"Ninety per cent of the time this is a simple procedure and we can do it vaginally right here in the clinic. It depends on the placement of the placenta. A portion of the placenta is usually available for transcervical chorionic villus sampling. That's all we do here in the clinic. If the ultrasound shows that the baby - or rather the placenta -is in the wrong position, sometimes we just can't obtain cells through the cervical route and are forced to do a transabdominal approach. If we do that, we do it in the hospital, because sometimes that stimulates the uterus to start contracting and we have to give drugs called tocolytic agents to calm the uterus down if we irritate it. It's actually quite safe - as long as we take the proper precautions.

Liz stared at the ceiling as the cold gooey jelly was spread on her lower abdomen, waiting for the speculum to be inserted. But it didn't happen.

"Well ...." said Linda. "This is a surprise.... We will have to do this transabdominally so we will probably have to schedule this for early next week."

"Is something wrong with the baby?" asked Liz.

"Well," said Linda, looking at the ultrasound. "It's not really A baby at all.....," as she turned the monitor to face Liz,..."it's twins."

[greywolf]

Across town, the Judge watched Bubba come up before the bench. From his record it didn't look like insight was the young man's strong suit, but the fact that he was doing thid AGAINST the advice of that shyster Grogan somewhat upped the judge's estimate of the young man right there. If young Mister Brigham had enough good sense to see through the slimey lawyer, maybe there actually was hope for him. Besides, there was more rejoicing over the lost lamb than the ninety-nine. The Valenti and Evans kids were probably not going to be a problem for society no matter how their trials came out. Bubba and his boys - that might be a different matter. Bubba appeared to be the one who had started the whole thing - he and that floozy girlfriend of his who was being charged with a felony violation of medical privacy. It wasn't likely that the young man had learned his lesson, but one could always hope.

"Well son, looks like the ball is in your court. What do you have to say?"

"Sir - first I want to ask you to drop the charges against Valenti and Evans. At least drop the charges against Evans...heck, I'm the one he whipped up on. If I don't want him charged, I can't see why the court would even want to charge him."

"Well son, the issue there is that society doesn't particularly want young fellers whuppin up on each other - and certainly not on the school premises. Then there is the issue of the damages your lawyer there indicated that you were fixing to claim against Mr. Evans as well..."

"Sir, with all due respect - I'm not damaged. Sure, Evans kicked my a..., that is, he got the best of the fight, but it didn't do me any real harm - in fact, I wish he'd have done that before I ever got into this. Maybe he could have beat some sense in me. It didn't start at the school, judge, it started way back at the party - I imagine that conviction is in my record. That's where I screwed up - where I was stupid. I was mad at Liz Partker because she told the police about the party, but it's not her fault. Until I got kicked off I was co-Captain of the football team and with Valenti and a few of the new guys we were headed for a he...., that is, a real good season. People have been doing that initiation for fifty years, Judge, but this year I was in charge of it ... and I got drunk - acted stupid - and let it all get out of hand. Worse, I acted as badly as anybody at the party - trying to show off - trying to play the big man. I almost got Valenti killed - I would have if Parker hadn't gotten him out of there, damn sure the rest of us were too drunk to realize how much he'd had or that he was about to stop breathing. I owe Parker for the fact I'm not sitting in a cell somewhere for killing Kyle. I know that now, but I wasn't man enough to own up to that. All I could think about was that Parker screwed up my senior year. When Troy told me about her condition - damn, I should have gone to her on my hands and knees and apologized to her. If she hadn't gotten drunk at the party that would have never happened to her. She's just not that kind of girl. But I didn't. All I could think about was that she embarrassed me - got me kicked off the team - and that I had to get even. It was stupid and it was cruel, and I wished Valenti or Evans had caught me doing it and kicked the crap out of me then - if you'll excuse the French, sir."

"I think I've heard the expression once or twice before, son."

"Well, as for the others - they were just following me, Judge. That doesn't excuse them maybe - just because I was stupid they didn't have to be, but it was my idea - I talked them into it - I brought the bolt-cutter that cut the lock and I brought the paint and brushes. The opne who is most at fault here is me. I'd like to change my plea to guilty - I'll be glad to testify as to just what happened, but the bottom line judge is that I screwed up. I was stupid and my guys were stupid enough to follow me. Evans and Vaalenti? Hey, they kicked ass for two little guys - but they were provoked, judge. We had it coming."

"So I take it you expect some sort of a deal for pleading guilty, son?"

"No, your honor. I said I was guilty because I was guilty. I'll take whatever you think is coming to me, and try to learn from it. The only thing I ask is that you understand that without me this wouldn't have happened. Magreuder there has already been punished a lot. Evans' cheerleader sister worked him over pretty good."

The judge looked at the report of hospitalization. Yes, indeed the girl had - totally in self-defense of course. She seemed like such a sweet young thing too. Must have had martial arts training or something he thought, trying to hold back a smile that certainly wouldn't have been dignified.

"Mr. Magreuder, Mr. Rodehammer, you've heard what Mr. Brigham has to say. Are you pleading guilty too?"

"Yes, your honor..."

"Yes, your honor...," came quick replies. The judge shook his head. Looked like a veritable epidemic of good sense was breaking out this morning.

"You too, Miss Troy?"

"Why no, your honor," said Pamela Troy, maneuvering to a position directly in front of the judge where he would have a view directly down her front - giving the judge the best possible view of her ample cleavage. The judge fought back a smile. Seventy-five years ago that trick would have probably worked - course he'd been a high school freshman then...

"I didn't violate anyones medical privacy, Judge,' said Pamela taking a deep breath after the sentence so the judge could get a real good look, "Parker was telling everyone about getting knocked up - bragging about it. Isn't that so, guys?"

Brigham, Magreuder, and Rosehammer were looking at her and slowly shaking their heads. Finally the judge spoke. "Miss Troy, If you go to adult court there will be something called 'discovery.' In discovery, it will no doubt be revealed to your counsel that the prosecution has a videotape from the clinic of you going behind the desk to look at Miss Parkers test results. WHEN you get convicted in adult court it will likely be a mandatory two year sentence. With time off for good behavior that's still a year in the New Mexico Women's Correctional Facility in Grants. I've never been there personally, but I have it on good authority that it is not a pleasant place. Would you care to reconsider that plea?"

Pam Troy looked at Grogan and saw him mouth the words, ' told you so...', before looking up at the judge with a sickly smile. "Perhaps I did mis-speak slightly, Judge. I guess I'll plead guilty too..."


Across town, there was a discussion going on at the clinic.

"So what does this mean?"asked Liz.

"Mean? Well, nothing medically. Twins occur a little over 1% of the time. They tend to run in families though, so if you had a twin, chances would be higher than that for you."

"I'm an only child, but the father - he's a twin."

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about him - the father I mean, Liz?"

"No, he's made his opinion clear..."

"Well, perhaps when we get the test results you may want to readdress that with him. You never know. An unplanned pregnancy is a shock for the guy, too."

"Maybe," Liz said doubtfully, "... but what does this mean about doing the procedure?"

"Since only one of the placentas can be reached through the cervix, we'll have to do the amniocentesis for the other one in the hospital. You won't be an inpatient - unless there's some problem like unexpected labor because of the irritation from the procedure you won't be held over night. It's a little more uncomfortable, but not all that bad."

"When can we do it?"

"Well, that's the problem. We need to get on the elective surgery schedule - probably for Wednesday of next week, but I won't know for sure until I check. Do you need any help breaking this to your parents?"

"No, I don't think so. I'm the one they are disappointed in. I don't honestly think they mind having grandchildren a bit - just didn't plan on it this soon. Considering how I screwed up, they've actually been great about it."

"Liz, the father - You really ought to tell him."

"Maybe - after the test - if the results are OK."

[greywolf]

"All rise..." said the Bailiff.

The judge re-entered and was seated and the other people in the courtroom soon followed.

'I'm not getting any younger,' thought Judge Roberts, '...and that prostate is not getting any smaller. Probably ought to see a urologist about that....'

"Well folks, I have had the time to consider this case carefully after the testimony I've heard today and here is my decision. With regard to defendants Valenti and Evans on a charge of assault.... Well there ain't much doubt that they are guilty ... they never claimed otherwise. And the videos from the school security system clearly show that they did indeed kick a little - that is to say -that they engaged in fisticuffs that constitute assault under the laws of the State of New Mexico. Now young Mr. Brigham doesn't want these boys charged - he said that this particular case of fisticuffs was both provoked and warranted. Personally I'm inclined to agree with the young man, but the laws of the State of New Mexico say differently. So I'm finding both boys guilty - we'll get to the sentencing later.

With regard to defendants Brigham, Magreuder, and Rodehammer; Mr. Magreuder is also guilty of simple assault on the person of Isabel Evans. Despite the laws of the State of New Mexico, I'm inclined to throw in with Mr. Brigham on that one - you've already been punished. That had to have been one painful kick in the crotch - let alone the humiliation of being hospitalized after being in a fight with a cheerleader. Since Miss Evans has also asked me not to press charges, I'm inclined to go easy on you, even though the law requires me to find you guilty on that count as well. All three of you are guilty of breaking and entering city property and malicious mischief, by your own admission. Additionally, you clearly were recklessly irresponsible in communicating information that - even if you didn't know it was illegally obtained - was certainly none of the public's damn business. You have each expressed remorse for that and that's in your favor, but it would have been a damn sight better if you hadn't done that at all."

There were nods of the head by all three of the former football players who were standing before the judge, with a few mutters of agreement.

"Well, you've hurt someone who not only hadn't hurt you, but who had kept you out of trouble. You seem to realize that and it can't be undone, but that's guilt that I think will haunt you for the rest of your lives - you're just going to have to live with that. Perhaps that little lady will forgive you - I don't know - but I doubt that you'll forgive yourselves in the years ahead as you look back on this.

Now that's my verdict for you five - anyone want to dispute it? If not, we'll get on to the sentencing."


Roberts looked around the room, seeing nothing but shaking heads.

"Well, let the record show then that the defendants agree with the verdicts, now here's what I'm sentencing you to...
We have a road crossing three arroyos outside of town. One person died at one of the crossings about fifteen years ago when a flash flood swept his car off the crossing and carried it downstream to where it was totally submerged. We had a young woman and her child almost die the same way at another one of the crossings more recently, and the third is as bad as the others - and they are building a new development out past the crossing that's going to put five times the traffic on that route that it's got now. I've got donated material for putting in guard rails. It's hard, hot, difficult manual labor, most of it, digging holes in rocky ground for the posts every few feet, then lag-bolting steel guard rail to them - but when its finished there'll be a safety barrier that keeps all but the most reckless people using that road safe from flooding. I am sentencing all five of you boys to work on the first crossing. It's the smallest, and if you all five work as a team you might just be able to get it done this weekend working 12 hour days. I sentence defendants Brigham, Magreuder, and Rodehammer to complete the other two crossings - guardrails on both sides, working 12 hour days each weekend as long as it takes. Do each and everyonoe of you understand this sentence?"

Around the room, heads nodded.

"OK, I want you to know I'm being lenient with you, and if you foul this up I damn sure won't be again. You five will bury the hatchet while you are working together - and I damn sure don't mean in each other, either, you understand that?"

"Yes, your honor," said Brigham,turning to Max. "Evans, I don't expect you to forgive me for what I did to Parker - Hell, I don't forgive myself - but I meant what I said about being glad you kicked my ass. I wish you could have stopped me before I painted that damn water tank. I'm sorry, I really am. I'll apologize to Parker if she'll listen to me - wouldn't blame her if she didn't though..."

Max looked at Brigham. He seemed sincere. 'Hell, Max,' he told himself, '...you are the one who who raped her - who put that creature in her. You're the one who ought to be apologizing to Liz.' Except - how do you apologize for something like that? No, bad as what Bubba had done was, it was nothing compared to what he had done to Liz. He couldn't judge Bubba - it's not like he was without sin.

"I guess I can let it go if Liz can, Bubba," said Max. "Make your apologies to her..."

"OK then," said Judge Roberts, "... that takes care of five of our defendants leaving only .... Miss Troy. You boys are dismissed - Miss Troy, would you care to saunter up here in front of the bench? You can keep your blouse buttoned this time though. An old man's heart can only take so much, and you are in trouble enough without a manslaughter conviction too."

[greywolf]

The junior deputy that was assigned to guard her was parked outside the Crashdown when he saw the teenager approach the entrance. His orders really hadn't anticipated this. Lord knows what fireworks this was going to cause. He briefly considered calling for backup but as he saw him go through the door and in to the dining area, the deputy decided that the better part of valor was to get in there as quickly as possible - this could get ugly.

Jeff Parker saw him as soon as he walked through the door, and met him halfway through the dining room. "I reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, and today that anyone is you. I want you to leave - right now."

"Please, sir," said Bubba Brigham, "...I just want to talk to your daughter for a minute. I'm not looking to cause any trouble."

"Son, I think you've already caused her enough trouble, and I'm not going to give you an opportunity to cause her any more."

"Yes sir, I have and I don't expect her to forgive me for that. Even so, I want to tell her I'm sorry. I owe her that much anyway."

"Now you listen to me...," Jeff started, only to be interrupted by his daughter's voice.

"Dad, it's OK. I'll talk to him. Come on back here, Brigham," she said, nodding to the back booth. He sat in it and she slid in across from him and her brown eyes looked into his face. "Well, say what you have to say."

"Parker - I'm not making any excuses. The night of the party - I was drunk, but that was no excuse for what I tried to do to you. You want to tell the Sheriff about that - the attempted assault - go ahead. I'll admit it."

Liz looked at Bubba and shook her head. "I wasn't exactly an angel at the party either, Bubba. I knew there was alcohol in the punch. I didn't have to drink it - I drank it because I was upset and angry and frustrated and..."

"Yeah, but you didn't attempt to sexually assault someone, Parker."

Liz looked off into the distance. Yes - yes she had. Not just attempted, but succeeded - if this could be called success. "Look, we all make mistakes," she said suddenly, "... as evidenced by my expanding waistline. You made some mistakes, I made some mistakes ...."

"But that would have never happened to you if I hadn't put the alcohol in the punch..."

"Or if I hadn't drunk the alcohol that I KNEW was in the punch. It doesn't work that way, Bubba. If you aren't forgiving yourself for what you did when you were drunk, you surely can't claim responsibility for what I did while I was drunk. This particular mistake was mine, and I'll just have to live with it."

"Even so, that doesn't excuse what I did - painting that on the water tank..."

"No, I don't suppose it does, but - well, my original plan was to go off to Florida and not let anyone here know about the pregnancy, but that wouldn't have worked. This is home and eventually I would have come back anyway and..." And it really didn't matter, she thought, what everyone else thought. If Max would have only accepted her - if he'd wanted to be a father to their child -their children, she reminded herself - despite the way she'd used him. If he'd have just not pulled away from her that last day of Freshman year.... she choked back the tears as she realized that she'd have gladly borne his children, if only he'd have wanted her like she wanted him. But now she'd burned that bridge forever.

"Max loves you enough that he's going to get over this," said Bubba, nodding at her lower abdomen as if somehow he was reading her mind. "I mean, even if he's upset right now that you were with someone else - trust me - he loves you."

As strange as this sounded, coming from Bubba who clearly didn't know what had really happened, Liz wanted desperately to believe him. But hope warred with reality in her mind and finally she shook her head before looking up. "Now why would you believe that?"

Bubba shrugged his large shoulders. "Max is what? 155 pounds? Maybe 160 pounds soaking wet?"

Liz shrugged her shoulders back. The last time she'd been that close to his body when it had been soaking wet - her sweat and his - she hadn't really been trying to assess his weight. "I guess..."

"Well the last time someone weighing 160 pounds kicked my ass, I weighed 120 pounds .... and was in the sixth grade. Max came after me like ugly on an ape - not that I didn't deserve it - but let me tell you, he wouldn't have done it if he hadn't really cared for you."

Liz wanted to believe - not that Max would have even known she was carrying his child then - children, she reminded herself, something he STILL didn't know. Was Bubba right? Was this all REALLY about his fear that they would be different -deformed - monsters?
Did Max -was there any real possibility that Max really DID love her? That thought both gladdened her and frightened her. It gave her hope that - if the genetic testing revealed that the babies were OK - that Max might actually not just accept his children but someday maybe forgive their mother as well. But it also frightened her.

If Max did love her - despite what she'd done to him that night - then it was likely he wasn't lying about the genetic problems. He might be wrong, and she fervently hoped he was, but he wasn't likely to be lying to her. All she could do was wait for the tests to be done and to get the results in hand. But regardless, if Bubba was to be believed, this whole story of genetic problems at least wasn't some cruel joke he was doing to hurt her. If Bubba was right - Max really did love her, even though she had betrayed him - even though they were - both of them - hurting right now.

"Look," he continued, "... I know I've got no right to ever expect you to forgive me, but I truly am sorry. I can't undo anything that has happened but I swear, Parker, if there is anything I can ever do to make amends..."

Sometimes you receive hope from the strangest of places - even from as unlikely a source as Bubba Brigham. The world was still a scary place -she was frightened for herself and for the new lives she was bearing within her ... but if Max did love her like Bubba said, maybe there was hope after all.

"We all make mistakes, Bubba. You and I - we've made more than our share recently. Maybe it's time we both grow up and take responsibility for our actions," she said, putting her hand on his and patting it as she gave him a gentle smile.

He smiled back, as he stood up to go. "I mean that, Parker... anything at all. I'll even go another round with Max if you want me to. Maybe I can beat some sense into him if he doesn't come to his senses on his own - or at least get my ass kicked trying."

Bubba turned and walked out the door. Next stop, he decided, would be Mr. Williams' office.