Iron River by T. Jefferson Parker Read Free Book Online

other shooter having taken out Gustavo Armenta?
    He took a deep, wavering breath. I’ve killed a young man I never saw alive, he thought. Leadeth me beside still waters. Please .
    “We’ve talked to Ozburn and Bly and the deputy,” said Soriana. “Sean and Janet thought Davis could have been preparing to fire. Charlie Hood didn’t say that, but he did say that Davis was not lowering the gun as ordered. So, three out of three witnesses are standing with you, Jimmy. And I’m standing with you, and Agent Mars is, and all of ATF. The boy was an accident. He was collateral damage. It breaks my heart to see the innocent die and I know it’s breaking yours, too, Jimmy. But don’t let it break all the way. We need you whole again.”
    Holdstock sobbed without sound, head hung, big hands still folded on his lap. It felt good to let those tears out. He thought he should feel humiliation, too, but he didn’t.
    He didn’t cry long. A moment later he had wiped his face on his hands, took another deep, wavering breath, and stood up.
    “You want a couple of weeks off, take them,” said Soriana. “You’re entitled to them and you’ve earned them the hard way.”
    “I think I’d like to work, sir. Back on the horse and all that.”
    “The fact that Gustavo was the son of Benjamin Armenta gives us cause for concern,” said Mars. “There are the Zetas. We can reassign you.”
    “I want to see this through.”
    “You want to do a couple of weeks of office work here in San Diego?” asked Soriana. “We could use you. You can bring Jenny and the kids, stay in a motel with a pool, enjoy the summer.”
    “No, sir. But thank you.”
    Soriana and Mars stood and all three men shook hands.
    “We’ll get your sidearm back to you in good time,” said Mars.
    “I appreciate your support, you guys.”
    “You acted properly, Jimmy. You did the right thing.”
    “I really, really appreciate that.”
     
     
     
    Holdstock bought small gifts for Jenny and the girls in a San Diego Target and made El Centro by two o’clock. He ate his sack lunch on the way home but he was starved, so he drove to the Denny’s and pulled around back and parked with the other locals in a patch of scarce afternoon shade. He stripped off his tie and when he got out of the car he buttoned the suit coat over his hip holster and walked around to the entrance and into a blast of conditioned air.
    He got a newspaper out front and sat at the counter and ate a large lunch and a piece of pie for dessert.
    He read the front page and sports and slowly he felt the terrible tension lessen in his body. You did the right thing. Funny what a few words could do. Words from men you respect.
    He left a big tip for the waitress and pushed outside, thinking that was how he met Jenny. He could still picture the little café where they’d met, the bud vases on the tables, Jenny beautiful. He’d go in for lunch whenever he could afford it, wait for her station if he had to.
    He was smiling when he got into the Ford and started up the engine and hit the air, and when he turned to back out he saw the bright orange flyer on his rear window. The print was facing him—something about losing weight. Could actually stand to lose a few pounds, he thought. He glanced at the cars on either side of him and saw the orange sheets flapping in the hot desert breeze.
    Holdstock sighed and got out and went around to the back. The flyer was held in place by a rock. He reached for the rock and heard something behind him, and when he turned, the first man hit him on the head with something small and hard, and a huge second man drove him down to the asphalt with a choke hold and didn’t let go. The first man stripped away his pistol and hit him again over one temple. The last thing Holdstock knew for sure, they were stuffing him into the backseat of his own car.

6
     
     
     
     
    B radley Smith and Ron Pace braced themselves against Smith’s Cyclone GT convertible while two gunmen frisked