Dig two graves, p.1
Dig Two Graves, page 1
Dig Two Graves
A Thriller
Rick Poulter
Dig Two Graves
Copyright 2024 © Rick Poulter
This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
“Fast is fine, but accuracy is final. In a gunfight you need to be slow, in a hurry.”
Wyatt Earp
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Chapter Twenty Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty One
Chapter Thirty Two
Chapter Thirty Three
Chapter Thirty Four
Chapter Thirty Five
Chapter Thirty Six
Chapter Thirty Seven
Chapter Thirty Eight
Chapter Thirty Nine
Chapter Fourty
Chapter Fourty One
Chapter Fourty Two
Chapter Fourty Three
Chapter Fourty Four
Chapter Fourty Five
Chapter Fourty Six
Chapter Fourty Seven
Chapter Fourty Eight
Chapter Fourty Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty One
Chapter Fifty Two
Chapter Fifty Three
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the following people for the help that they provided in making this a possibility. Without their help and support, this book that you are reading may not have ever been.
First and foremost, I would like to thank my beautiful wife. She is my rock, my best friend, and my world. Thank you for everything that you do.
Next, I would like to thank Jason Petty. His valuable insight into the world of publishing a book has been very helpful.
I would like to thank Mr. Ken Griffey of Bear and Son Cutlery. They make exceptional blades right here in America. Check them out if you are looking for a quality American made blade.
I would also like to thank Maria Spada for the cover design.
Prologue
Eight miles west of Laredo, Texas
Mid-August
The south Texas sun beat down on the Rio Grande. The temperature was 106 degrees Fahrenheit and climbing. This part of Texas had long struggled with cartel violence from Mexico, and recently an unprecedented number of migrants flooded the border town. It was common to sit out at night and see and hear automatic gun fire from across the river in Nuevo Laredo. As you drive down I-35 you see billboards stating Laredo is Safe. That couldn’t be further from the truth. The Texas Governor had battled the flood of migrants on the border for years, meeting constant opposition from the current Presidential Administration. This part of Texas it seemed had always had conflict, even dating back to the 1920’s when men like legendary Texas Ranger Frank Hamer patrolled the border. Nothing ever seemed to change down here, and the people in Washington could care less. To make matters worse, the current administration exploited the situation for political gain. These people searching for a better life were nothing but pawns to be used in a larger grab for power. It seemed that’s all the political elites in Washington cared about.
Caleb Jenson hated the border. He sat in the Ford E-350 cargo van, and even though the A/C was cranked he was still sweating. The heat in this part of Texas this time of year was unrelenting. He placed his hand up to the vent, wondering if it was even blowing cold air. He despised this assignment, but he understood the necessity of it. All he had to do was complete it, then the puppet masters pulling his strings from Washington would see his worth to the organization. His job was simple, facilitate the transportation of U.S. Military hardware across the border to the cartels in exchange for drugs that he would then transport back across the border. He had been doing this for several years and it had proven to be fairly lucrative for him. This assignment was similar, but different. This time he would be arranging the transportation of a group of individuals to come across into The United States. He was to provide them transportation to San Antonio, secure them housing, and provide them with 10 civilian spec AR-15 rifles. He had been told that successful completion of this assignment would see him re-assigned to Washington. He had to get this right. Caleb had been working for U.S. Customs and Border Protection for 10 years, before that he had served in the Army National Guard for 6 years. He had grown up poor. The middle child of a single mother. His mother seemed to have a new boyfriend every week, and few were kind to him, or her. He knew once he graduated high school that he would never return home. He had worked his way up through the ranks of Border Patrol and had eventually met the right people to land him his current position. The extra money he pulled in from funneling supply across the border was the kind of money he always knew he would make enduring those dark days of his childhood.
Miguel Montero waited patiently on the street in Nuevo Laredo. The heat was sweltering, and his 1996 Ford Explorer didn’t have working A/C. He was waiting for Refugio to bring the 7 Middle Easterners to him. He would then transport them to the Rio Grande, where he would pass them off to the cartel’s contact with the U.S. Customs/Border Protection. Even though he wasn’t expecting any trouble today, he still had his Ruger P-95 on him in a shoulder holster under his shirt, and his Mil-Spec M-4 was tucked away under the back seat of his Explorer. The M-4 was a gift from the Americans to his cartel. The Los Dominguez cartel had been working closely, in secret with certain members of the American government for years. They traded cocaine and heroin for military grade firepower. That firepower allowed the cartel to keep an iron fist on its area of operation. They controlled most of the drugs and human trafficking across the border into Texas and New Mexico. Miguel wasn’t sure what the purpose of bringing these 7 men across the border was, but then, his job wasn’t to ask questions. His job was to do what he was told. Miguel was good at his job.
The heat was almost unbearable in late August in South Texas. Caleb would be glad to be rid of this part of the country after this assignment. To him, this was a means to end one chapter of his life, and begin a new, better one in another part of the country. He could hardly wait to be rubbing shoulders with the political elite, the real movers and shakers. Bringing this group up through Mexico and across the border shouldn’t be a problem, given the current administration’s lax border policy. Caleb was just about to start watching a TikTok video on his phone when he spotted the old Ford Explorer coming across the desert toward his location. He put his phone in his pocket and readied to meet Miguel.
The transfer was simple and straight forward. Miguel unloaded the 7 men from the back of his Explorer with little effort. Caleb wondered how he even managed to fit them all in there. The men were handcuffed, and leg shackled, to make it look like Caleb would be transporting detainees, at least until they got out of the vicinity of the border. Once further north, he would remove their bindings. He already had the safehouse they would be staying at in San Antonio stocked and ready. As each man filed into the passenger van that he was using to transport them, Caleb couldn’t help but notice that they all had the look of battle-hardened warriors. These men had seen combat, they knew death and bloodshed. Caleb himself had served in the Army National Guard. He had deployed to Afghanistan but was not anywhere close to combat hardened. His job in Supply never had him leave the safety of the FOB. He saw his time in the National Guard as a way into a cushy government job with decent pay and excellent benefits. Plus, the extra tail he was able to get by impressing drunk girls in bars with his Border Patrol credentials was another advantage. Once this job was done, it would be even easier to land drunk girls as his credibility in the government sector would only increase, he thought. He started the van, cranked the A/C and began the little over 2-and-a-half-hour drive north.
Miguel watched as the van departed. He lit a cigar and thought to himself that he was glad to see those men leave his country. He had recognized them for what they were. Warriors who had been hardened by bloodshed. He didn’t know what purpose the Border Patrol or the U.S. government had for those men, but he knew it wasn’t good. He let his hand run across the grip of his P-95 and thought about the long drive back to the Hacienda. He hoped Teresa would be up for his company this evening. He stubbed out his cigar, climbed back into the Explorer, and steered back toward the winding road that would take him back home.
Chapter One
20 miles southwest of Ft. Worth
Joe Ramsey steppe d out of the shower and grabbed the towel hanging on the bar. He looked in the mirror. His brown hair that had always been high and tight had started to grow out, his beard was coming in good and starting to gain definition. His body still bore the physique of a man whose life had been dedicated to military service in a long and brutal war on terror. He was toned, and the few scars that he had were prominent. Both of his arms were covered by full sleeve tattoos. He had just come from a 4-mile hill run through the local state park. Even though he was out of the Military now, he still wanted to keep his body in top physical shape. The television was tuned to the morning news program where the anchorman was talking about the body of a Border Patrol agent that had been found in an alley in San Antonio with his throat cut. The newscaster said that authorities were calling it a byproduct of drug violence that had swept south Texas over the past few years. The authorities said that they suspected members of the Mexican gang MS13 to be involved with the slaying of the agent. He grabbed the remote and flipped the channel to a different news program. This one had his favorite independent journalist as a guest speaker this morning, so he paid more attention to it as he grabbed his jeans from his closet. He got dressed watching Danielle Perez speak about the current Washington cover up of the DUI gotten by a high-ranking senator’s spouse. Rules for thee, but not for me Joe thought to himself as he pulled on his Justin boots. He started putting on the various objects of his EDC kit. He picked up his Kimber Custom II 1911 .45 and slid it into its holster. Then he grabbed his Bear and Son Cutlery Gold Rush Bowie knife placed it in the special harness he had made for it to conceal on his back, grabbed his Viking Tactics pocketknife, clipped it into his pocket, and threw on an Ariat button down over his t-shirt, to help cover the pistol and knife. He strapped on his Casio G-Shock GD400 watch to his wrist, grabbed his keys, and headed out the door.
He walked outside to the small garage that he had built several years back and opened the door. Inside sat his 2010 Chevy Silverado 1500. The truck was all business. It had been built by a man who liked to spend his time outdoors. It had a 2-inch leveling kit, and all terrain tires. Joe had built a gun rack behind the seat to hold his Daniel Defense MK18 rifle. He put the truck in gear, and slowly pulled out of his long driveway, onto the highway that ran past his house. He thought as he drove. His mind wandered back to his time in the Army. He had started his career in the Army as an 11 Bravo, or Infantryman. He had gone to basic training at Ft. Benning, Georgia in what was then referred to as OSUT, or One Station Unit Training. Basically, since he was Infantry, his basic training and AIT were all run together instead of being separate courses. After basic it was straight to Airborne training at Ft. Benning as well. He enlisted pre 911 and did his first deployment to Afghanistan as an infantryman with the Army’s 101st Airborne Division (which ironically wasn’t an actual airborne unit anymore, it was now an Air Assault unit,) located in Ft. Campbell, Kentucky. It was on this first deployment where he was introduced to the Army’s elite 5th Special Forces Group. He knew right away that he would one day wear the Green Beret. Once he made Sergeant, he applied for selection.
He had been out of the Army for a little over a month now. His time since he had been home had been filled with getting the old farmhouse he inherited from his parents back into shape, and slowly restoring a 1985 Jeep Wrangler Renegade that he had picked up dirt cheap. He hadn’t really given much thought as to what he would do in civilian life. Maybe he would make videos and become a famous YouTube star by spouting nonsense on the internet. No, that was not his idea of a good career. He was hoping that he would be able to get a job that would have him outdoors in nature. He would hate to be cooped up in an office all day. He wasn’t in a hurry though, he had time to decide on his next step in life. He had managed to save quite a bit of money while he was in the Army. That, combined with the monthly check he got from the government, he would be able to sustain himself for a while. He lived a simple life, and didn’t have a lot of expenses, so there was no hurry to find a career. He steered the truck onto Main Street and headed for the diner.
The Main Street Diner wasn’t busy when he walked through the doors. He could see Ashley in the back of the room wiping down a table. She looked up and smiled at him as he walked through the door. He had known Ashley since they were kids, she was a few years younger than him, but he had always liked her. He had always wanted to ask her out but never did. He heard that she had gotten married shortly after high school but had also heard that the marriage had ended rather badly. Her ex-husband was now serving a 12-year sentence in Huntsville. She brought him over a tall glass of iced tea shortly after he sat down. He had never really developed a taste for coffee. He had tried several times while on deployments, but no matter how he dressed the coffee up it never tasted good to him. He even tried putting honey into it because he had read about that somewhere, but even that didn’t help the flavor. “Do you want your usual, Joe?” Ashley asked. “Uh, yeah, thanks Ashley.” He replied. She rushed off to put in his breakfast order and left him sitting there to think about asking her out. He had got up the nerve to do it several times, but each time he had been able to talk himself out of it. She returned to his table shortly after putting in his order. “Hey, Joe, I have a question for you.” She said. “Ok, well ask away.” He replied. He was expecting her to ask him something about his breakfast, or if his tea was sweet enough, but what she asked floored him. “When are you going to ask me out? I know you have been thinking about it, so why not just do it?” She asked him. Joe was left speechless. He didn’t know how to reply. “I, uh…” was all he was able to get out. Luckily for him she answered for him. “How about you pick me up at 7:30 tonight, and we can grab dinner or something.” She stated. “Okay, that would be great.” He replied. She then rushed off to get his order.
Joe finished his breakfast, paid the bill and left Ashley a nice tip. Then he walked out of the diner thinking about where he would take her that evening. Their town was small, and it didn’t offer a lot by means of entertainment. However, if he got creative, he knew that he would think of something. He headed down the street to the local florist. He decided that he should do something nice for Ashley since he didn’t have the nerve to ask her out, prompting her to make the first move. He spoke with the florist, and within a few minutes had an order of a dozen roses to be delivered to her at the diner later in the day. He filled out a card for the flowers that told her what he wanted to say but couldn’t. He was always better at expressing himself that way. After his stop at the florist, he headed to the local men’s clothing store. His wardrobe was in serious need of touching up if he was going to consider courting Ashley. He bought a couple of new pair of jeans, and a few more button-down shirts. He thought about replacing his current belt, but just couldn’t give up on it yet. It still had a lot of life left in it. His last stop in town was at the convenience store to grab a can of snuff and some gas for the truck. He walked back out to the truck and began pumping the gas into the fuel tank. He replaced the nozzle in the pump when he was finished, closed the gas cap on the tank, and fired the truck up and pulled out of the parking lot.
Ashley was busy wiping down tables and thinking about her date with Joe later tonight. She was glad that she asked him out. She had a feeling that he liked her, Joe was a confident man, yet every time she took his order or tried to talk to him, he became very nervous. She didn’t care where he took her, she was just glad to be going. She hadn’t dated anyone since her husband had gone to prison and she had divorced him. In truth, after that marriage she was a little gun shy. There was something about Joe, though, that put her at ease. She enjoyed being around him. She really didn’t care where he took her on their date later, she wasn’t that picky. She was just happy that he had agreed to take her out. She had thought for a moment that she had been too forward with him by asking him out, but she soon realized that if she hadn’t, he might never have worked up the nerve to do it himself. The diner hadn’t been very busy today, just the few old men who came in every morning for coffee and to talk, then Joe, then a couple of hipsters, who were quick to realize that they stood out in this quiet small-town diner. They ate quickly, paid their bill, and left. Ashley went back to cleaning and wiping tables, waiting for the lunch crowd.
