Free Travis Justice by Colleen Shannon Page B

he took the corner, and the driver had turned to peer at him curiously. Zach couldn’t see his face that well in the darkness, but the red, ancient Volkswagen van was a relic from the 1970s, so it was distinctive enough. Just in case, he used his cell phone to snap a shot of it as it drove down the block and disappeared.
    He started walking home, not happy that he’d have to tell both his dad and the police he’d summoned on his cell phone that he’d lost the girl . . . for the second time.
    * * *
    Once they reached the freeway, Hana sat up. “I can’t thank you enough, Ernie.”
    â€œWhat about your car?”
    She sighed. “I’m sure it will be impounded and thoroughly searched. I parked it farther away but it’s registered in my name.”
    â€œDid you sweep it clean?”
    â€œI think so. They won’t find anything incriminating or that would link me to you.”
    â€œDid you find more security at the Travis house than last time?”
    â€œIt’s a fortress. New motion detectors, armed guards with Belgian Malinois . . . I won’t be able to get near it again without my own little army.”
    â€œOK, kiddo, time to hunker down and plan our little adventure for tomorrow. With no plan B, plan A has to be flawless.”
    Hana climbed into the seat beside him. “Ernie, I have a bad feeling about this. Zachary Travis was obviously expecting me. How do I know they won’t be guarding the warehouse too?”
    â€œYou don’t. But maybe we can do our own little reconnaissance first.”
    Hana eyed him, not liking the little smile flickering at his lips. In her experience with him, it usually accompanied reckless behavior. Ernie’s biggest flaw, other than his petty larcenies, was his feeling that he was invulnerable to the downfalls of most mortal men, criminals in particular.
    â€œErnie . . .” she said in a warning tone.
    He only winked at her and drove the old VW as fast as it would go. Doing what he did best—pushing limits.
    * * *
    The next morning, the mood was somber as two simple caskets sat draped by the Lone Star flag at the Texas State Cemetery. On their final passage to eternity, the Taylor couple would rest after death as they had in life: side by side. It was unusual for a wife who was not a state employee to be interred next to her husband but the state facilities director had bent the rules to allow it. The graveside service was crowded with high-ranking Texas Ranger and Department of Public Safety officials. The Taylor family sat under an awning, adult children and grandchildren openly in tears.
    As he watched the ceremony, Zach was uneasy. Two hours before the event, he’d reconnoitered the site himself. All the muckety-mucks gathered here would make a prime target for anyone who wanted to eliminate top state law-enforcement officials. Several police officers, astride their motorcycles, monitored the perimeter, but Zach was still on edge.
    While he knew he wasn’t the only bodyguard sprinkled around at the ceremony, he kept to his father’s side, continually scanning the surrounding trees and gravestones, looking for anyone who might be skulking around, as the minister quietly gave his eulogy. After the eulogy, several older men wearing typical cowboy garb of chaps, boots, and vests, lifted old Colt revolvers to the sky and gave their version of the twenty-one-gun salute, a ceremony unique to Texas Rangers, Zach knew, having attended such services before.
    The crowd slowly dispersed, but John Travis stayed rooted by Sam Taylor’s casket, which was slowly lowering into the ground on hydraulic lifts. Zach was moved when his father knelt and picked up a clump of dirt to drop gently down on the casket. “Rest, old friend,” he said quietly, turning away.
    But not fast enough. Zach saw the tears in his eyes. He could only clasp his father’s shoulder in sympathy, but as usual, John Travis recovered