The Devil's Right Hand - J. D. Rhoades [83]
Raymond raised a pair of binoculars and peered through them. The pain pills he had taken seemed to drop a sort of haze across his vision, but he could make out Keller’s blonde hair. His identification was confirmed when he caught a glance of Puryear’s face peering out of the glass.
“That’s them,” he said. “Let’s move.” He pulled back the hammer on the huge revolver across his lap as Geronimo started the engine. Down the street, he could see the Lexus’ headlights flash twice as it pulled away from the curb.
“So I told him,” the older deputy was saying, “if he thought he was gonna get me to pay five thousand for that piece of shit car, he had another think comin’”. The sheriff’s car turned right onto the wide four-lane boulevard that led to the county courthouse. The street was divided by a disused stretch of rusting railway track that ran between the two sets of travel lanes. As they approached a stoplight, the older deputy went on: “And you know what that sumbitch told me? He says watch out, you...” a large black pickup had roared up beside them, then accelerated ahead and swerved drunkenly into their path. Keller saw the red glow of the brake lights growing larger in the front windshield as the truck abruptly slowed. The tires of the sheriff’s car squealed as the driver slammed on the brakes. Keller’s head snapped to the left at the sound of another powerful engine beside them. A white Lexus had roared up and slid to a stop next to them. Keller saw a gun barrel extended from the open window.
“Get down!” he screamed. His head almost collided with DeWayne’s as he ducked below the level of the front seat. The seat belt held him in place, keeping him from going any lower. There was a series of quick, sharp bangs, like someone pounding on the car with a stick. Keller heard the sound of shattering glass from up front. Something warm and wet sprayed over his back. The guard up front was screaming. Keller heard the front door open, then there was another quick burst of fire and a scream of pain.
“What the fuck?” DeWayne was screaming.
“Keep your head down!” Keller yelled back.
Suddenly, the door was yanked open. Keller looked up to see Raymond Oxendine standing there, pointing a gun at him. The man’s dark face had an unhealthy grayish tinge, and his green eyes looked slightly unfocused, but the hand that held the gun was steady. He reached over and unfastened the seat belt.
“Git out the car,” he said in his flat voice.
“Mr. Sanchez,” Scott McCaskill said, “I understand not wanting to draw police attention. But you will need to tell the court yourself. I can’t tell you how important...”
“I told you what I saw,” Sanchez said. He gestured at the gym bag on the floor of the courthouse’s tiny conference room. “There are the guns that were used that day. Can’t you just tell the court what I told you?”
“No sir,” Angela said. She had stayed up most of the night talking to Sanchez and her face was drawn and wan-looking. “It’s called hearsay. No one can testify to what someone else said.”
“I was with them,” Sanchez said. “If they cannot find this Oxendine, the police will blame me because I am the one they have.”
“You told me that a yard full of people saw Raymond Oxendine point a gun at you and demand you come along.” McCaskill said. “We can show you were under duress.” Sanchez just looked at the table.
“Mister Sanchez,” Angela finally said, “It’s not just the police you’re thinking of, is it? Do you blame yourself for what happened?”
Sanchez looked up. “Si,” he said. “It is true they held a gun on me. But I helped them. I led them to those two old people that Raymond killed. I could have stayed dumb, like they thought I was. But I thought that what those men were doing was honorable. They were trying to right the wrong of their father’s death, and I wanted to help. But in the end...” he shrugged helplessly, “They were just men with guns. Just killing and more killing. And I helped make it happen.” He gave a bitter laugh. After a moment he spoke again. “You know what I did in Colombia?” he said. “I was a