“Then get it and quit fucking around! Do you copy?” Ripley yelled loudly, abandoning the motherly tone.
“C—copy,” Jarvis stuttered, and then dropped to his chest and crawled on his belly under the passenger door of the police cruiser. The pencil was wedged behind the front tire. He dug frantically at the pencil with his fingertips. Finally he crawled out from under the cruiser and held the pencil tightly with his rubber-stained right hand. He stood at attention next to the sweaty officer and said, “Ready.”
“First, you’re gonna publicly apologize to Sheila Jones in front of everyone,” said Ripley.
“Do I need to write that down?” asked Jarvis.
“Jesus Christ. You are stupid, aren’t you Detective?”
“Well… you said something about… a glass of water. I—”
“I changed my mind about your little plan of atonement,” Ripley said as she made air quotes with her fingers. “Just write it down. Jesus, this guy’s a damn genius,” she muttered.
“Ten-four, ma’am,” said Jarvis. He flipped through the pad to a clean sheet of paper and started writing.
1.Public apology
“You got that so far?” asked Ripley.
“Ten-four, ma’am,” Jarvis repeated.
“Next, you will write an apology to me, signed by you. A copy of this apology will be read… by you… at two shift briefings in front of Captain Yorick, and a copy will be placed in your permanent file. Do you copy?” she asked again.
A series of loud gasps emanated from the entire group of B.D.U. team members and uniformed officers that gathered to hear the conversation. “Can she do that?” one of the burly men whispered to a fellow team member who was a bit taller and thinner.
“Fuckin’-A straight she can do that,” whispered the taller one.
“Would you do it?” asked the burly one.
“I wouldn’t do what that dickhead did in the first place,” the taller one said.
“I hear ya,” said the burly one. “If he hasn’t already shit himself, he will when Yorick gets done with ’im.”
“You got that shit right. What a dumbass.”
“QUIET!” Chief Ripley shouted as she snapped her fingers at the crowd. “One last thing, Detective,” she said.
“Ma’am?” Jarvis said as he scribbled on his pad.
2.Write apology 2 Ripley
3.Sign –
4.Read @ 2 dailies – Yorick –
Everyone within earshot held their breath. “You will do these things to my satisfaction… Detective. Or I will personally see you in front of the LA County Board of Supervisors. Do we understand each other?”
Before Jarvis could answer, his counterpart lost consciousness and tumbled quickly to the asphalt until he lay flat on his back in snow angel position. A collective gasp and a “Holy shit!” emanated from the crowd.
“Oh, my God,” Sheila said softly as she put her hands to her mouth.
Two EMTs who had been waiting on standby suddenly rushed to the uniformed officer’s side and rendered aid.
“Answer my question… Detective.”
“I copy,” said Jarvis, who suddenly turned white and his hands began to tremble. “Loud and clear, ma’am.”
“Then go to it… Detective,” said Ripley. “Sheila? Where’s Sheila?”
“Right here, ma’am,” Sheila spoke up from the back of the crowd and raised her hand.
“Let her through, fellas,” said Ripley.
Sheila made her way nervously through the crowd, glancing at the faces of the men who put their lives on the line to get her safely out of harm’s way. Some nodded at her, some smiled, and a wink or two of support gave Sheila encouragement as she was suddenly the center of attention.
“Nice robe,” said Ripley as Sheila approached her position.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Sheila, who struck a nervous modeling pose and then stood at Ripley’s side.
“Alice,” Ripley corrected with a smile and another wink.
“Right,” said Sheila. “Thank you, Alice.”
“Detective Jarvis has something he would like to say to you,” said Ripley. “Detective?”
Ripley placed her hand on Sheila’s shoulder in a show of support. Jarvis stood next to where the EMTs were tending to the now conscious but groggy officer. The notepad in Jarvis’s hands shook as he cleared his throat and started to speak. Sheila crossed her arms and began to feel pity for Jarvis, even after what he had done to her.
CHAPTER 7
Room 258 was quiet, save the dull grinding noise of the PCA pumps. Morphine made its way through strong veins and dulled the pain from broken bones and bruised muscles. The beautiful young Triple C Ranch owner’s body had seen better days, but was well on its way to recovery.
August Riley drew shallow, lumbered breaths as she slept in a slightly reclined position with her hands folded across her aching belly. A rogue frown appeared on her face as the events from the night before appeared in a dreamy replay. “Please… not in the face this time,” she slurred out loud.
The heavy door swung open a few inches, and Joan Caldwell peered inside at the sleeping beauties. The sight of Colleen’s battered body made her heart ache once again. She doubted that she would ever be comfortable with the sight of the strongest woman she ever knew in such a frail state.
She swung the door open wide enough to slip through and close it behind her. She took extra care to hold the door handle so that the heavy latch wouldn’t make its usual loud thud when it was closed. The plastic bags of supplies that hung from her left hand rustled lightly as she tiptoed quietly toward the recliner in the corner.
“I don’t have any more money!” Augie said loudly.
Joan turned in her tracks, startled by Augie’s sudden outburst.
“What?” Colleen asked from the depths of her drug-induced, late-morning nap.
“I said I don’t have any more money!” Augie yelled at the top of her lungs.
“Oh my God,” said Joan as she dropped her bags on the floor and quickly covered her mouth with both hands.
“Mom?” Colleen called, still confused.
Before Joan could answer, Augie screamed loudly.
“Mom!” Colleen yelled. “Get some help!”
Joan remained frozen in her tracks, unable to move. Colleen fumbled frantically for the call bell as Augie continued to scream at the visions playing out their horrible actions inside her broken skull.
The door flew open and Leah bolted into the room, followed closely by a man in blue scrubs who looked more like a bodybuilder than a nurse.
“Somebody help her!” Colleen yelled helplessly.
The man in blue scrubs grabbed the end of the privacy curtain and whipped it from its position between the beds. The metal wheels in the tracks squealed with a high pitch that nearly matched Augie’s screams, both in pitch and volume.
Joan stood and stared blankly at the curtain, transfixed and unblinking as her hands slowly dropped to her sides. Colleen could see the feet of the man in blue scrubs shuffle from side to side as Augie’s screams turned to loud gasps. Odd, unidentifiable sounds filled the gaps between screams and gasps for air.
“Augie!” Leah called loudly. “Augie! She’s hyperventilating! David! Call the Rapid Response Team!”
“Got it!” David replied a deep, businesslike voice.
“No!” Augie exclaimed.
“Augie?” Leah called again loudly. “Can you hear me?”
Augie’s loud gasps turned to more controlled heavy breathing.
“No… rapid…” said Augie hoarsely.
“Augie?” Leah repeated.
“Yeah,” said Augie with a hard swallow. “What—” she gulped and tried to compose herself.
“Just take slow, deep breaths. Try to relax for a minute,” Leah instructed.
“O—okay,” replied Augie between deep gulps.
“You still want me to call R.R.T.?” asked David.”
“I don’t think we’ll need i
t,” said Leah. She turned her attention back to Augie and asked, “Are you sure you’re okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m… out of… breath,” replied Augie. “I’m not… hard of hearing.”
David chuckled at Augie’s comment. Colleen let out a breath that she didn’t realize she was holding. Joan stood and stared blankly at the privacy curtain as if she were in a trance.
“Mom,” Colleen whispered, but got no response.
“Why is the curtain like that?” Augie asked.
“Mom,” said Colleen in a normal tone, but again got no response.
“We thought you were in trouble,” Leah said.
A long pause followed Leah’s statement. Joan’s trance continued, which made Colleen feel uneasy.
“In trouble?” asked Augie, which finally broke the silence.
“Mom!” Colleen shouted.
“What?” Joan mirrored in a shout as she blinked for the first time and came out of her trance.
“What in the hell is the matter with you?” Colleen scolded.
“Nothing,” replied Joan as she composed herself and bent over to pick up the bags she dropped earlier. “She was… screaming.”
“Shhh!” Colleen sputtered.
“Don’t shush me!” Joan fired as she stood up and glared at Colleen.
At that very moment, Colleen didn’t recognize the person that stood at the foot of her bed and glared back at her. The face was that of Joan Caldwell, but the eyes were completely unfamiliar and cold. A chill made its way up Colleen’s spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
“Did you take care of that… other thing that we talked about?” Colleen asked.
Before Joan could answer, David pulled the privacy curtain back toward the wall between the two beds. “Is there anything else I can get you, young lady?” he asked with his back turned and fastened the curtain to the wall.
Leah helped Augie lean slightly forward, adjusted her pillow, and then went to the sink to wash her hands. Augie turned and studied David’s body from head to toe. The fabric of the blue scrubs strained against huge biceps. His upper body was shaped like a large, blue upside-down triangle. Augie was sure that this man’s shoulders were going to split the blue fabric down the middle like an enraged Hulk, but the soft blue fabric held its ground.
David’s scrub top gathered at the bottom and was tucked inside the waist of matching, loose-fitting bottoms. Augie just knew this man had a chiseled ass that could crack walnuts. She stared at David’s behind in a trance of her own, and then caught the sight of Colleen out of the corner of her eye. Colleen had leaned forward and was watching her turn multiple shades of red.
“Can you fix my pillow, please?” asked Augie as she tore her eyes from David’s walnut-cracker, looked squarely at Colleen and stuck out her tongue like a three-year-old.
“Sure can,” replied David as he finished his work with the stubborn curtain and turned toward her. “How do you want it?”
†
Carlos wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand and shook his head in disgust. The chestnut mare beneath him shifted her weight and kicked up a lazy wisp of dust from the dry valley floor. The hot August sun kept watch over a pale brown chickadee that flitted from shrub to shrub. A short peep of disapproval followed each move to a new perch from which to survey the monstrous horse and rider before him.
The Triple C was home to countless critters, drifters and reptiles, but none was more hated than the squirrel sunning himself in the middle of a clear patch of hardpan, forty yards off the trail.
Carlos bit the leather tip of his right middle finger, removed his hand from the well-worn glove, and then leaned forward in the saddle and patted “Ka” twice on her shiny chestnut neck. The mare’s ribs expanded as she took in a deep breath. She sputtered loudly at the chickadee, who continued his series of disapproving peeps from his perch in a large clump of prickly pear.
Carlos held his stare at the vermin that made Swiss cheese out of prime Simi Valley ranch land. Ka whinnied. Carlos leaned forward, gripped the deep brown Western saddle’s horn, and dismounted for the hundredth time that day. “Easy,” he said as he gripped the mare’s bridle and ducked under her neck.
He stood at Ka’s withers and patted her on the neck once again. Ka’s ears twitched back and forth as Carlos removed the 1892 Winchester rifle from the thick leather scabbard under the right stirrup. The rifle slid easily from its wool-lined sheath and its shiny edges gleamed brightly in the sun.
Carlos moved the always-loaded rifle to the crook of his right elbow and moved ahead of Ka a few feet. He suddenly stopped and rolled his shoulders. Ka lowered her head and pawed at the dirt. Small clumps of earth rolled backward from her shiny metal shoes as she dug at the packed trail.
“Sssss!” Carlos hissed as he held out his left hand and pointed two fingers at the well-trained mare without looking in her direction.
Ka lifted her head and shuffled backward a step. Her hooves scooped shallow tracks in the dirt along the way until Carlos dropped his hand back to his side, signaling for her to stop.
The California ground squirrel continued sunning himself on the bare patch of earth. His thin, shiny whiskers twitched in the sun as he sniffed at the dry air. Carlos contemplated the irony that life on the Triple C, or any other ranch for that matter, can turn in an instant. One minute you could be sunning yourself in the warm California sun, and the next minute, you could find yourself in a hospital with broken bones. Or even dead.
Carlos looked down at the Winchester. “Time to go to work, old friend,” he said softly in his native tongue. He hoisted the rifle into position against his shoulder and searched the patch of ground for his target once again. The squirrel had moved. He stood on his back feet with his nose in the air. Carlos thought for a moment that he had been alerted to his presence, so he quickly placed his thumb on the rifle’s hammer and cocked it into position.
A bead of sweat made its way down his forehead and raced toward his right eye. Just then, the chestnut mare let out a high-pitched whinny that Carlos knew all too well. Something wasn’t right. Something bad was about to happen, and Ka knew it. The bead of sweat hit its mark with a stinging vengeance. Ka let out another whinny. Shivers bolted down Carlos Guzman’s spine.
†
Joan glared at Colleen for a few more uncomfortable moments, and then began fumbling about with the bags as if she didn’t hear Colleen’s question.
“Can you put it so it’s lower?” Augie asked David.
“You betcha,” replied David.
Augie leaned forward and David leaned closer so that his chest was a few inches from her face. Augie drew a deep breath through her nostrils and closed her eyes.
“How’s that?” David asked.
“Unbelievable,” said Augie softly. “Do you make house calls?”
“For a price,” chuckled David. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“I can think of a hundred things,” replied Augie with a girly chuckle. “Do you like walnuts?”
“Love ’em,” David said as he stood up and put his hands on his hips like the Jolly Green Giant, only he was blue and wore more than leaves as a tunic. “Did you want me to call the kitchen and ask if they have any?”
“Never mind,” Augie said as she turned her ninth shade of red and glanced at Colleen, who was studying the same walnut-cracker she saw only a minute before.
“Okay,” said David. “You’re in good hands here. I’ll be floating around all day if you think of anything else.”
David looked at his watch, then back at Augie. He gave her a playful wink, and then headed for the door. Leah dried her hands, turned toward Augie, and leaned against the edge of the counter.
“Sounds good,” said Augie.
David grabbed the door handle on the way out and pulled it shut behind him.
“Sounds good,” said Joan as if she were part of the conversation, but was clearly in a world of her own. All eyes turned to
Colleen’s mother-in-law, who stared out the window. She stroked the loops of the plastic bags between her fingers over and over.
Colleen turned her head back toward Augie. “Sounds good,” she repeated in a high-pitched, mocking tone.
“Oh… my God,” said Augie.
“August Riley, you should be ashamed of yourself,” said Leah playfully.
“Why?” Augie asked, but already knew the answer.
“Do you like walnuts?” Leah repeated in the same kind of mocking tone as Colleen.
“What’s wrong with that?” asked Augie. “I just wanted to know if he liked walnuts.”
“Uh huh,” Leah said through a heavy smirk.
“I don’t get it,” Colleen chimed in. “Why would you ask him if he liked walnuts?”
Augie turned a deeper shade of red and wriggled against her pillow again, but said nothing. Leah wadded her paper towels into a ball and tossed them into the trash bin, and then checked her watch.
“Hello?” said Colleen, but again got no response from Augie. “What does that mean?”
Augie pulled her covers over her head and tried to keep from laughing.
“It means…” Leah said, and then took a deep breath before she continued. “David could crack walnuts with his butt cheeks.”
Colleen tried to picture in her mind what Leah had just said. “Crack walnuts with his butt cheeks,” she repeated softly, and then closed her eyes. “Oh… my… God.”
“Can you see it now?” Augie asked from beneath her covers.
“Uh, yyyyeah,” said Colleen, who still had her eyes closed. “I’m getting a signal now.”
Suddenly there was a light knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Joan, who instantly came back from the world she was lost in.
All eyes turned to Joan again. She stopped stroking the plastic loops of the bags and turned around toward the three confused women. “What are you all looking at?” she asked.
“Nothing, Mother,” said Colleen.
“There’s someone at the door,” Joan said.
Remembering August (Triple C Ranch Saga) Page 21