Page 136 of Lone Star

Cantrell’s response was a deep exhale. He walked down the length of the table, on the far side. “Thank you, Candace,” he said, and the door clicked shut as the blonde agent showed herself out.

Candy took a moment to reflect on the fact that this was the first time he’d been enclosed in a room with a fed and he wasn’t being interrogated as a criminal suspect.

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Candy said.

“I am?”

“For busting the coke den at the Doc’s place.”

“Ha,” Cantrell said, deadpan, and took a long slug of coffee. “Yeah, no, see, that complicated things. You were supposed to call with the intel and let us handle the arrests. And instead” – anger touched his voice, though he didn’t seem to have enough energy to enforce it properly – “my people are picking up bodies and having to tell the local cops not to arrest anybody for it. I’m pulling a lot of strings because of you, Snow, and I won’t–”

“We left you at least one alive,” Fox said.

“What?”

“The guards. I left one alive, and the boys did, too. Now you have witnesses.”

“Are you…” Cantrell trailed off and let out another breath. Set his coffee on the table and ran both hands down his face. “Okay. You know what? Doesn’t matter.”

He went to the board. “Let’s walk through the timeline. We’ve got ritualistic killings in Arizona two months ago.” He pointed to crime scene photos reminiscent of the scene out in the desert, where pacer’s people had been killed. “Five vics, in two locations, found twelve hours apart.”

“Five?” Candy asked, turning to Fox, who nodded.

Cantrell sent them a look.

“Just a theory,” Fox said, and apparently wasn’t ready to share with the class yet.

“Found twelve hours apart,” Cantrell repeated, continuing. “Staked out, throats cut, sedated beforehand, Special K on the tox screen.

“Next are the three here.” He shifted to photos from the scene Candy remembered all too well. The white-blue crystalline sky, the arid soil laced with cracks, the Road Runners set out in five points, like the Texas star…

With a jolt, he snapped his head toward Fox, brows lifted.

Fox smirked.Get it now?

He thought he did. Or at least partly. He’d ask when they left here.

“Also staked out,” Cantrell said, oblivious to their silent exchange, “sedated, and with their throats cut. Only this time it wasn’t ketamine. It was that new paralytic the lab’s still trying to figure out.” He tapped another photo. “The two men in your sister’s yard.”

“Five,” Candy said, connections snapping in his brain. Five points on a star, five victims laid out like stars.

Fox nodded again.

“Our guy’s lucky number, apparently,” Cantrell said, shaking his head as he surveyed the board.

“Did you do any digging on the Chupacabras?” Candy asked.

Cantrell shifted to the table, and opened a file, sifted through the loose-leaf pages inside. “It’s been two years since their last boss was found dead in his cell.” He darted a hard glance up at the three of them that wasn’t responded to. “Since then, other cartels have stepped in to fill the void, but the Chupacabras haven’t left any tags or calling cards. No one we’ve arrested on any sort of trafficking charges has pointed their direction. Based on all the intel, they disbanded, or disappeared, or the remaining members all hooked up with other gangs after the fallout here in Texas. No witnesses have stepped forward claiming they’re behind any of this activity – except the ones you’ve told me about.” He shot another look up at Candy. “I need to interview them.”

“And you will. I’ll get them to you.” Candy couldn’t help but sound smug.

“You understand that in order for it to be in any way admissible they have to either commit a crime and get arrested for it, or come to me directly looking to make a deal. I can’t pluck people off the street like you do.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What about this Holy Father guy?” Blue asked. “Ever heard of anything like that?”

Cantrell straightened and folded his arms. He stood like a man who’d spent too many hours on his feet or in uncomfortable office chairs. “Religious fanatics, sure. We’ve dealt with cults and people who claimed they could talk to God – that God told them to do the crazy shit they did.”

---