Hunter was furious and tried to jerk his hand away again. It didn’t budge. “Hunter!” Raymond called, “Let’s go!”
“I’m leaving, but it isn’t because you say so,” Hunter said to Wayne. She went to the Tahoe and got in.
Wayne called to Raymond, “Hope that don’t take too many stitches, amigo.”
Raymond didn’t answer as he drove away. “What did that jerk say to you?”
She was so mad she could barely talk, “It’s nothing. Just him, that’s all.” She looked at Raymond and noticed his head was bleeding again. “You want me to drive, so you can keep some pressure on that?”
Raymond said, “I’ll let you drive when we get to the pavement. I figure if I let you behind the wheel here, I’ll be writing reports on how my partner ran over the Presidio County Sheriff - sixty-seven times.”
Hunter almost smiled, “Nahh, just forty.”
***
The on-call doctor stitched Raymond up quick and neat at the Alpine hospital emergency room. They were back at the station and finished their reports by ten AM. Hunter dropped Raymond at his house on her way home, and when she opened her door, the phone was ringing.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Truman. You got time for a little conversation before you sack out?”
“Sure,” she held the cordless phone with her shoulder as she went upstairs to her bedroom and began taking off her gun belt and uniform.
“I received copies of the contents of Julian’s billfold this morning. Want to hear what was in it, or do you want to get some sleep first?”
“I can’t go to sleep after you tell me that. Let me hear it.”
“There were a dozen photos of his wife and kid, several handwritten prayers to the Virgin stating how he wished he could do more to help the orphans and elderly in his hometown of El Mulato.”
“You have got to be joking,” Hunter said.
“That’s not all. There were a half dozen receipts of small donations, five dollars, seven dollars, one for thirteen dollars, to The Boys Club of America in El Paso, and the United Way of El Paso.”
“Oh, man,” Hunter rubbed her forehead while she listened. The headache and tight neck were coming on fast.
“You see what’s happening here,” Truman said.
“Yeah, I’m as good as gone. It sounds like I shot Saint Francis of Assisi, instead of a dope dealing murderer.”
“But do you see the rest of it?”
“What?”
“Somebody planted that stuff; the wallet, all of it. I read the background on him, read your report of the incident, and I’ve talked to you about it. Somebody’s got it in for you.”
“You mean you don’t believe the things they found?”
“Hunter, this is the same guy that held an eight-year old kid down in a mud puddle until he drowned, just because the kid wouldn’t peddle dope at school. Photos can be faked easy enough. All you need is the right program and a computer. Whoever’s doing this is good, but they’re risking a lot to take you down.”
“I know it’s not my brother.”
“Never thought it was. Ronnie’s ambitious, not dishonest. He’s so good he doesn’t have to cheat. But this isn’t going to make our case any easier. I need you to think about this and come up with some starting points for me, okay? I’ll keep digging on this end.”
“I will. Thanks, Truman.”
“No problem-o. You’re coming to El Paso tomorrow, right?”
“I’ll be in your office at eight.”