The Devil's Right Hand - J. D. Rhoades [84]
“There’s a difference between you and the Oxendines, Mr. Sanchez,” Angela said. “You didn’t kill anyone. And you can keep Jackson Keller from going to jail for something he didn’t do. Maybe that will make some of this right. That’s why you came to me, isn’t it?”
Sanchez’ smile was bitter. “And is this Keller so innocent?” he asked. “After all, he was there. With a gun.”
“No one would ever call Jack Keller innocent,” Angela said, “but I know him. He would never kill a man in cold blood.”
Sanchez looked at her appraisingly. “You care for him. I can tell.”
She looked him steadily in the eye. “He’s my best friend.”
They looked at each other like that for a moment. Finally Sanchez smiled. “He is lucky to have such a friend.” He turned to McCaskill. “All right,” he said. “Who do I talk to?”
“Thank you, Mr. Sanchez,” Angela said.
“Call me Oscar,” he replied.
“You’re doing the right thing, sir,” McCaskill told him.
Sanchez hadn’t taken his eyes off of Angela. “I don’t have a choice,” he said, still smiling. “I would be ashamed to act the coward in front of one so brave.”
Angela’s face flushed slightly. “Ummm--” she said. “Thank you.”
McCaskill cleared his throat. “Of course,” he said, “once we have a little talk with the district attorney’s office, it’s entirely possible that there won’t even be a hearing. They don’t have a whole lot of interest in trying a losing case.” He stood up. “Okay, people,” he said. “Let’s go introduce Mister Sanchez to the district attorney.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Raymond led them behind the patrol car, hands still cuffed in front of them. The patrol car’s engine was still running, but the body of the driver was slumped over the wheel. The front seat of the car was a swamp of blood spattered by the impact of the machine gun slugs. The two shooters in the Lexus had roared away once they had emptied their clips into the driver. Keller had to step over the body of the older guard. The dead man lay where the impact of the heavy machine gun bullets had driven him back. His left eye stared blankly up at the sky. His other eye was lost in the shattered ruin of the right side of his head. His gun was on the concrete a few feet away.
“You ain’t gonna be able to make much use of that gun, trussed up like you are,” Raymond said. He was standing a few yards away, next to the curb. The gun in his hand was trained on Keller.
“Don’t worry, man,” DeWayne said through chattering teeth. “I wasn’t...”
“Shut up, asshole,” Raymond said. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“At least your brother had a chance, Raymond,” Keller said. “At least I didn’t shoot an unarmed man.”
“He didn’t know what he was doin’,” Raymond said. “He’s never done nothin’ like that before.”
“Then you shouldn’t have put him there with a gun in his hand,” Keller said. “If he hadn’t pointed it at me, I wouldn’t have shot him.”
“Come on, man,” someone yelled from inside the pickup. “Do ‘em and let’s get outta here.”
“I had to do it, Raymond,” Keller said. “It was self-defense.”
“I don’t care,” Raymond said. He raised the pistol.
“Police officer!” a voice shouted. “Put the gun on the ground!”
Keller turned his head. Marie Jones’ Honda had pulled up across the street in the far opposite travel lane. She was standing just outside the passenger side, the body of the car between her and the bloody tableau in the middle of the street. She had her service automatic out, extended in a two-handed grip over the roof of the car.
Keller turned back. Raymond had turned slightly to bring his gun to bear on the new threat. Keller took a step forward with his left leg. He brought his right knee up almost to his chest, pivoted on his left leg, and drove his right foot out in a vicious kick to Raymond’s side. Raymond screamed in agony and rage and fell backwards, the gun