Hostile Borders by Dennis Chalker Page A

guys. Used to be a Border Patrol officer himself back in the day. Worked for the State Department before that. Then he transferred over to the DEA, thought he could make a bigger difference there. Was a hell of an undercover agent and made multimillion-dollar arrests. Personally took down tons of coke, heroin, and pot. But he never forgot what it was like to be an officer on the ground. When a cop, sheriff’s department, or the Border Patrol made a bust, he saw to it they kept the credit. It didn’t exactly endear him to hissuperiors, but he never seemed to care about that.”
    â€œSo how did he get charged with killing an officer?”
    â€œThat was the strange thing,” Hausmann said, “and it was why I took the case in the first place. He retired last year after he had to kill a man during a big king-pin’s takedown—some young guy he had known while undercover. Bothered him so much he took an early retirement. So it didn’t make any sense that he would get in a fight and kill an old friend he had known for years—but that’s what the investigators said.
    â€œYou have to know that when a fellow officer goes down, every Border Patrol man for miles comes in to help on the investigation. They turned over every rock and pebble between Texas and the California state line. Didn’t find a damned thing. The only thing that did turn up was a gun in the man’s backyard. Didn’t have any fingerprints on it, and the serial number was cut off, but ballistics matched it up to the bullet that killed Langstrom.
    â€œIt was nothing but circumstantial evidence, and weak evidence at that. The case should never have even gone to an indictment. But the pressure was on to come up with a perp, and the federal prosecutor in charge wanted to make a name for himself. So he painted a picture of a corrupt ex-undercover DEA agent who killed an old friend who was going to expose him.”
    â€œExpose him?” Reaper said. “Expose what?”
    â€œOh, Sam’s got money,” Hausmann said, “and plenty of it. But he inherited it from his old man. The Duran ranch was a big place when it was a running concern. But Sam lives out there alone now, he’s theonly member of the family still alive. You live alone, have money, and used to be involved in the drug business, even as an undercover agent, that’s enough for ignorant people who are just looking to take a man down.”
    â€œSo you got him off?” Reaper asked as they pulled into the long driveway on the Dogbone Ranch.
    â€œWasn’t that big a deal,” Hausmann said, “except to Sam, of course. The motive was weak to the point of being nonexistent. No prints on the murder weapon, no eyewitnesses, no forensic evidence at all that I was ever shown. And some tracking of foreign bank accounts that were never shown to have had a direct, personal attachment to Duran.
    â€œLike I said, the case should have never gone anywhere and I got it dismissed. But that means there’s an open murder of a fellow officer still on the books. There’s no suspects, the trail is cold and all of the extra manpower on the job have gone back to their posts. Sam is guilty in the court of public opinion, that’s all. But that’s enough for some people. And that’s why the local law-enforcement community does not think highly of someone who got a cop killer off.
    â€œAnd what the hell are those?” Hausmann asked as they went through the electric gate.
    â€œThose are the Prowler RTVs from Diamondback Tactical. Came down this morning. They just unloaded and parked them. We can put them in the garage later.”
    â€œDamn,” Hausmann exclaimed, “they look like some pretty stripped-down, mean-ass dune buggies.”
    â€œThat’s pretty much what they are,” Reaper said.“Only they’re a hell of a lot tougher than a dune buggy. And they really stand out in the accessory