Blanco County 03 - Flat Crazy by Ben Rehder Page A

County Sheriff’s Department for just over a year. Young and very sharp.
    Garza nodded. “Yep, twice. But I want to go in with some fresh eyes.”
    Red O’Brien was rumbling down Pecan Street after a trip to Dairy Queen when Billy Don yelled, “Holy whorebag!” It startled Red so bad, he dropped his Dilly Bar into the crotch of his pants.
    Red tried to steer while wiping at a smear of chocolate along the inseam of his Wranglers. “Damn, Billy Don, take it easy, will ya.”
    “Check it out! Right over there! That’s Rudi Vee!”
    Red turned to see where Billy Don was pointing. Standing in front of the courthouse was a woman facing a camera, with a large cluster of people milling around her. The woman, who looked kind of familiar to Red, was holding a microphone in front of Ernie Turpin, one of the county deputies. Red couldn’t quite place her, though he could tell, even from thirty yards, that she was definitely headboard-banging material. He figured it was another newscast about that Houston hunter who’d been found dead. Red had seen something about that a few days ago.
    “What is she, a reporter from Austin? Big friggin’ deal. What’s everyone gettin’ so excited about?” But Red pulled over to the curb to watch.
    “Naw, man, Rudi Vee. Rudi Villarreal.”
    “You already said that, Skeezix. But who the hell is Rudi Villarreal?”
    Billy Don looked as if Red had just said NASCAR was for pussies. “Jesus, Red. You know, from Hard News Tonight ? That hot reporter who’s always interviewing big stars and interpreting the economy and stuff.”
    Oh, now Red remembered. It was a news program, but not your typical tight-ass broadcast with guys like Peter Jennings. Red always wondered if Peter was Waylon’s cousin or something. Anyway, Hard News Tonight was, to Red, every bit as informative and a whole lot more entertaining than, say, Nightlight. Okay, so maybe their stories weren’t quite as in-depth as those other shows, but damn, look at those hooters! Red could see that ol’ Rudi was packing some major mangoes.
    “Damn, I’ve always had a thing for her,” Billy Don said. “Why you think she’s in town?”
    Red didn’t know, but—like the knot of bystanders—he was extremely curious. “Who gives a shit?” he said.
    Billy Don didn’t seem to hear. He was gazing through the windshield, mooning over the reporter.
    “Well, damn,” Red said, “if it means that much to you, we might as well go see what’s going on. No sense in sittin’ in the truck.”
    Billy Don heard that, and they both climbed out of the Ford.
    As they approached the crowd, Red could hear Rudi Villarreal saying that funny word again: chupacabra. After the incident with the wetback on Sunday, Red had finally learned what that word meant. According to the papers, a chupacabra was some kind of devil-dog or mutant lizard or something—nobody seemed to know for sure. And you could find them down in Mexico, especially around the capital city of Puerto Rico. Red was listening, and now the deputy was saying no, there hadn’t been any more reports of the chupacabra.
    Rudi Villarreal asked about Oliver Searcy—apparently, that was the dead hunter. Rudi was wondering whether Searcy might have been a victim of the chupacabra. After all, she said, wasn’t Searcy killed by a single puncture wound to the neck, the chupacabra’s trademark?
    Ernie Turpin shook his head and said he couldn’t comment on that. Hell, this all sounded pretty interesting to Red. Kind of sci-fi and weird. You wouldn’t see Dan Rather offering this kind of coverage.
    Rudi thanked the deputy for his time, and Red could tell the interview was coming to an end. He figured he owed it to the world to tell what he knew. “Hey, Rudi!” he called out. “We was with that Meski—uh, that Mexican that was hit by the truck on Sunday. The one what saw the chupacabra.”
    Rudi looked his way, and so did the rest of the crowd. “You mind sharing your story with