Mystery of the Walls

By Larry D. Black

Mystery of the Walls is a novel about a veteran game warden named Terry Scroggins. Terry is the grandson of Ben and Mary Ann Scroggins, who were introduced in the previous novels Vengeance Is Mind and Love Is Forever.

Terry becomes involved in a drug investigation in northeast Texas. His instincts take him behind the walls of a 2000 acre ranch that is protected by an eight-foot high game fence. The more he snoops around, the more twist and turns the story takes. If you like the who done it type stories, then this novel is a must.

Like the other Scroggins family novels, before the story ends, you will feel like you are a part of the Scroggins family. One of the heartwarming features about this book, as well as the previous published books, is the heart felt family devotion, loyalty and values.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781452086675

Larry D. Black

Larry D. Black is a local author with eleven published novels centered on the Scroggins family. Larry was reared in the southern part of Franklin County, Texas, and attended Mt. Vernon High School through his junior year at which time his family moved to Houston, TX. He is a graduate of the University of Houston and is now retired after being employed with a major defense contractor for twenty-six years. He is married to Martha and they live in Franklin County on Larry's original home place. Together, he and Martha have five children and sixteen grandchildren, and four great great- grandchildren. Since retiring, he has two full full-time jobs. For one, he and Martha owned and operated a Boer goat farm (Little Creek Farms) in the South Franklin community until recently. After some twenty years of raising goats, Larry recently sold his goats and now devotes his time to working in his yard. Secondly, he is a preacher at the Blodgett church of Christ where he spends a lot of time ministering to inmates and drug rehabilitation. Between the two, Larry never has a shortage of anything to do.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I sat quietly in the passenger seat of the 4x4 Chevy 250 and stared out into the surrounding darkness. The only sounds that could be heard were the night creatures that called the river bottom their home. Once in a while the silence was broken when Chris, my partner, asked me something.

Chris had only been a state game warden for a few months, so he frequently had questions. As I listened to a bunch of coyotes howling nearby, Chris asked if I had seen anything yet.

No, I haven’t seen a thing.

The opening day of rifle season for deer was only two weeks away and poachers often started the season a little early by driving around at night and killing deer by spot-lighting. Spotlighting was illegal because it really took advantage of the animal by blinding them with the light and then shooting them. This kind of hunting really angers the honest hunter.

Tonight Chris and I had been assigned to set up Ole Sparky. Sparky was a robotic deer that was remotely controlled, and with the push of a button, Sparky would raise or lower his head, twitch his tail, and turn to look back over his shoulder. We put Sparky out in an open meadow about 300 yards from the county road that crossed the Brushy Creek bottom. Chris had backed our patrol pickup onto a logging road where unsuspecting hunters wouldn’t see us.

What time is it? Chris asked.

I looked at my watch and told him it was twenty minutes past nine. It was late October and it had been dark about three hours. We got to our designated stakeout about thirty minutes after dark, and with no action, it seemed as if we had been sitting there for hours. As we waited, a hoot owl made its way close to us and started his nightly chatter. His mate was up the creek a ways and replied to his every hoot. Nature and the animal kingdom never ceased to fascinate me. For instance, the instinctive way the animals care for their young, find food, and communicate with one another was always amazing.

How long have you been a game warden? Chris asked.

Almost twenty-six years, I replied.

Boy, that’s a mighty long time. I guess you have seen lots of stuff and have lots of stories you could tell.

Yeah, I’ve seen a good bit of stuff.

Have you ever been scared? Chris asked with a tone of adventure in his voice.

I sensed he was ready to hear some exciting story like the time I single-handedly apprehended six prison escapees; or about the time I uncovered three whiskey stills down at Plum Hill that were operated by the Talbert County Sheriff. Or maybe he would like to hear about the time I broke up a drug cartel right here in Brushy Creek bottom and was shot twice. But rather than glamorize the events I had experienced in fighting the bad guys, I simply replied, I am scared every time I walk up to somebody. You never know if that fellow has a bullet with your name on it.

Yeah, I know, but… Chris was interrupted by the sound of an approaching vehicle. I started working Ole Sparky in case the people approaching wanted to take a look. Soon the headlights were in view and as they got to where they could see across the bottom, they stopped their pickup and started shinning a high-beam light across the field. By this time, my adrenaline had kicked into high gear and my heart was starting to beat a lot faster. I guess one never gets too old for that adrenaline rush. I glanced over at Chris, and even though it was about thirty-five degrees outside, he was wiping perspiration from his forehead. I chuckled to myself as I thought rookie jitters.

Sparky was working superbly. I could hear one of the spotters yell, Look at that buck! as their light locked in on Sparky. They watched for a few minutes and then got back into their pickup and drove away.

No laws broken this time, Kid, I said to Chris. There is no law against using a spotlight unless they hunt at night with the aid of one. Those folks were only looking. I bet they will come back here during season and hunt for the big buck they saw. We both chuckled as we thought about them telling their hunting buddies at the coffee shop about the trophy buck they had seen.

Soon things were quiet again, but only for a few minutes. We heard another vehicle coming down the road and soon its lights were in view and shinning through the trees. Like the one before, this one also stopped. It looked to be a late model dual-wheel pickup and sounded like a diesel. It didn’t take long for the spotlight to start scanning the field. As it did, I started working Sparky. His head was moving up and down as if he was eating and then he would raise his head and look at them. His tail was in full swing.

Soon the spotters found him. They locked the light on Sparky and almost immediately the shots of a rifle echoed through the silence of the darkness. You missed him! I heard one man say. Yeah, but he’s still there, another man replied. Then there was a second shot.

Again my heart was racing. I told Chris to continue working Sparky while I walked up behind the poachers. As I left the patrol pickup, I told Chris to provide backup when he saw my flashlight shinning. I made my way up the logging road toward the hunters. Ole Sparky was still standing and twitching. By this time, the second hunter had taken his turn with the rifle, but neither of his shots brought Sparky down. I was in position.

I drew my pistol and held it in my right hand down by my side while I turned on the flashlight that was in my other hand. As soon as the light from my flashlight hit them in the face, I said, Texas Game Warden. That’s all there is, Boys; lay ‘em down.

Both men were startled as they heard my voice, and they swung around and looked into the light. The one with the rifle had a wild look in his eyes as he pointed the rifle toward me. Don’t even think about it, I said as I quickly raised my pistol. About that time, Chris started our pickup and turned on the flashing lights. The man then lowered and dropped his rifle. I instructed them to put their hands on the hood of their pickup. They complied, and I watched them until Chris arrived.

After Chris arrived, I took each hunter aside one at a time. I wrote down the pertinent information, i.e. their name, address, and drivers’ license number, and I checked their hunting license. As I talked to each man, Chris ran a license check along with an auto check from the license plate. Both men lived in the neighboring county and had no outstanding warrants. The owner of the pickup was a big and stout-looking man with little fat. His drivers’ license listed his height as six-feet and four inches, and I guessed his weight to be about two hundred thirty-five pounds. His name was Jerry Hollis and he was thirty-one years old.

The smaller of the two men was named Josh Collins and he was a little pudgy. He was about five-foot-nine-inches tall and weighed about one hundred ninety-five pounds. He was twenty-nine years old and a cousin to Jerry Hollis. Both men had been drinking, and their behavior clearly indicated that they had drunk enough to be considered legally intoxicated. We asked them to take a sobriety test, which they willingly did, and both failed.

I wrote both of them a citation for hunting out of season, hunting with illegal aids, shooting from a public road, and public intoxication. In addition, Jerry Hollis was also charged with DWI. Not wanting either of them to drive in their condition, I asked Chris to radio for a county deputy to come and take them to the county jail and lock them up until they sobered up. While we waited for the deputy, I made the two hunters sit on the ground near the edge of the road. In a few minutes the deputy arrived and took Josh and Jerry to jail.

After they left, I radioed Sur-Quick Towing to come tow their pickup to the jail. While we waited for the tow truck, we visually searched their pickup for some kind of controlled substance but found nothing. After the routine search turned up empty, we put their hunting rifles inside the pickup and waited for the wrecker. After a bit, Richard drove up, hooked on to their pick-up, and towed it back to town. Chris and I needed to go by the station and fill out a report on what had happened, so we followed the tow truck to town.

As Chris and I were walking down the hall of the patrol station, I heard someone say, Why, Terry Scroggins! I haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays! Immediately I turned around to see Carl Hull, a Texas Ranger friend of mine that I hadn’t seen in years. I introduced him to Chris and he followed me into my office for a cup of coffee.

Well, Carl, it’s been a long time. What brings you into this neck of the woods? I asked as I poured him a cup of coffee. You drink your coffee black, don’t you?

Sure do. Is there any other way? he said as we chuckled together. Then he said, Ah, we’re trying to find some druggies.

Your lead brings you here to east Texas?

Don’t know for sure, but there’s some pretty strong indicators that point in this direction, but nothing very solid. I guess I’m moving more on a hunch than anything else.

I took a sip of my coffee and replied, Well, usually your hunches prove to be pretty good. Is your coffee okay?

Ah yeah, you can’t mess up coffee, he answered.

Then I turned and nodded toward Chris and said, He’s going to be a good game warden. He’s only been on the force for a few months and got stuck with me for training.

Chris chimed in and said, I wouldn’t call it being stuck with you. I’d say having the honor of being trained by you.

Carl agreed with Chris and then asked Chris where he had worked before coming here. Chris told him he had been a deputy sheriff in Tyler County down in the valley for a few years. Carl asked him if Sheriff Hawkins was still down there. Chris seemed both surprised and impressed that Carl not only knew where Tyler County was but that he also knew the sheriff. Yes, Sir, he is, but he retired last year after thirty-seven years of service.

Can’t blame him, Carl said. After that long, it’s time to take a rest. Sheriff Hawkins is a good man.

Yes, Sir, he sure is, agreed Chris.

Before Chris could finish telling Carl about his background, Carl said, Well, Terry, I need to get on. I’ve got a room at the Motel 6. Just ran by the station to send a fax back to headquarters. Maybe it won’t be so long till we meet again. How are Debbie and the kids?

They’re fine, I answered. The kids are all gone from home now, and it’s just Debbie and me again. Frankly, that was a little hard to get used to. But if I have to be alone with someone, I can’t think of anyone I would rather have than Debbie."

Yeah, I can understand that.

Carl, stop back by when you can and we’ll have you out for supper. I know Debbie would like to see you. She might even show you some pictures of our two kids, Brad and Kerri. In fact, Kerri has been married nearly two years now and Debbie is getting ready for some grandkids.

Sounds good, he said as he made his way to the door mumbling something about grandkids and getting old.

After he left, I asked Chris to write the report of the evening’s events. While he was doing that, I called over to the jail to check if Jerry Hollis and Josh Collins were safely locked up. The officer on duty told me that they were with no incident. After Chris finished the report, I reviewed it and signed it. By this time it was getting close to 2:00 A.M.

Chris, it’s been a long night; let’s go home for a little shut-eye. What do ya think?

Sounds good to me, Mr. Scroggins.

Quit calling me Mr. Scroggins, I said as I turned off the office light and we started down the hall. My name is Terry. I’m your partner.

I know, but Mr. Scroggins sounds more respectful.

Teasingly I said, Oh, we have a long way to go before we get you broken in. Good night, Buddy. See you in the morning.

The next morning I awoke about 8:30 to the smell of fresh coffee brewing. I got up and went into the kitchen where Debbie was just taking some cinnamon toast out of the toaster. I eased up behind her and gave her a small kiss on the cheek. Good morning, Dear, I said.

Good morning. Have a busy night?

Yeah, it was pretty busy. That toast sure looks good. I know it’s not very nutritious, but I sure do like it, I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee.

She put the toast on a plate and joined me at the kitchen table with her coffee. We had a short prayer and then talked about our plans for the day.

Oh, you will never guess who I saw last night.

I don’t know and am a little afraid to ask, she said with a smile.

Carl Hull. He was passing through and stopped by the station.

How is he?

He seemed to be fine. He looked in good shape and as fit as ever.

Did he ever remarry?

I don’t know, I replied. I didn’t think to ask him and he didn’t mention it, so I bet not.

We were both remembering about twenty years ago Carl’s wife left him for another man. He really took it hard for a long time. In fact, he was suicidal for a while, but as time seems to heal deep wounds, he gradually accepted the reality of it and focused all his energy into his work. It seems law enforcement takes it toll on many marriages. I suppose the long hours away from home leaves a wife lonely and many times doubtful. And often another person comes into her life when she is most vulnerable. That’s what happened to Carl. As I looked across the table at Debbie sipping her coffee in her housecoat and with her messed-up hair, I was so thankful I had a loving and understanding wife that’s stood by me for some thirty-one years.

After finishing the toast and a second cup of coffee, I asked Debbie about her schedule for the day. She said she had to work the evening shift so it would be after midnight when she got home. Debbie is the manager of the fabric department at the local Wal-Mart Super Center. As I was getting up to leave, she said, Oh, I almost forgot. Your cousin Toby invited us over Friday night for a chili supper and to play forty-two. Check your schedule and let me know if we can go and I’ll call them.

Sounds great to me. I’ll call you when I get to the station, I said as I kissed her cheek. We expressed our love to each other as I left for the station.

The first thing I did when I arrived at the station was to check my calendar for Friday. The only thing really locked in place was a training class that I was to teach to the local high school agriculture class. That certainly wouldn’t interfere with any Friday night plans so I called Debbie and told her my schedule looked open and I could go to Toby’s.

I was looking over some newspapers and other mail when Chris came dragging into the room. Morning, Kid, I said. You look like you’ve been rode hard and put up wet. He mumbled something back that sounded a little like morning as he made his way to the coffeepot. I yelled across the room to him, I stopped by Sweeties on the way in this morning, so help yourself to a donut.

With a little sugar and caffeine in his system, Chris soon appeared to be alive and well. What are we going to do today, Mr. Scrog…I mean Terry?

As Texas game wardens, we were assigned to a particular county, but as state officers, we were not limited or restricted to a particular city or county. We had no set schedule and rarely saw any supervisors. I told Chris that I thought we might patrol Lake Hood and ride herd over the migratory birds.

Before we left, I had Josh Collins and Jerry Hollis released from their cell. I told them their pickup was parked outside the station and their guns were inside. As they left I said, Boys, try to stay out of trouble.

You don’t have to worry about us, Warden. We’ve learned our lesson.

I hope so, I replied.

Within an hour we were easing along the shores of Lake Hood looking through our binoculars from the patrol pickup. There seemed to be a large number of birds already making a winter home on the lake although it was only late October. We were listening closely to see if anyone would shoot into the flock, but everything seemed quiet.

Along the way, we stopped by several popular fishing spots primarily to make our presence known, and then we decided to drive over to Indian Shores Café for a