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Bad Karma

Page 35

by J. D. Faver


  “I’m going back on patrol, Ida.” She waved as she walked out the door, taking a can of air freshener with her to clear the stench of John Doe from her cruiser.

  ~*~

  The cell was clean, almost eerily so. Mike leaned back on the bunk to wait, the smell of bleach and disinfectant working his gag reflex.

  As soon as they ran his prints, alarm bells would go off and someone would be coming to pick him up. Nothing to do now, but wait. Patience was a virtue, or so he’d heard. Unfortunately, it wasn’t one of his.

  He heard the heavy metal door squeak as it swung open and then the sound of footsteps advancing down the hall. Maybe Little Red was coming to check on him. No, the tread was too heavy.

  The tall, Hispanic officer stood outside his cell, his hands fisted on his hips. “As a courtesy, would you care to tell me what the hell you’re doing in my jurisdiction?”

  This is a no bullshit kind of guy.

  Mike stood up out of respect. “Sir, if I were authorized to do so, I would share that information with you.”

  “I’m Sheriff Rafael Solis. I’ve worked with almost every state and federal law enforcement agency you can name. I’d appreciate being informed of any investigations being run in this county.”

  Sheriff Solis was young to have attained such a position. That might speak of exceptional ability or some kind of small town politics.

  Mike nodded. “I understand.”

  The sheriff’s dark eyes skewered him. “Let your superiors know that I expect to be thoroughly briefed.” He turned and left the area, a heavy metal door clanging behind him.

  A few minutes later, the door opened again and an African-American deputy released him from the cell and escorted him to the front of the building.

  “Your…stuff is in here. You can change in the shower room.” He thrust the paper bag at Mike that contained his tattered clothing.

  He dreaded to put it back on, since he’d cleaned up but, when he was properly attired, he returned to the front and the women in the motorized chair grinned at him.

  “I guess you didn’t expect Deputy Calhoun to arrest you.”

  Mike shook his head. “No, but since she did it might give me creds with the local dock rats. Can I have the rest of my property back?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Doe,” she said. “Just as soon as you show me some identification.”

  “Well, if I’d had that on me at the time of my arrest you wouldn’t be calling me John Doe.”

  She shrugged. “No ID, no weapon.”

  Tough customer. “How about my phone?”

  She nodded to the African American deputy. “Germaine, please get Mr. Doe’s phone from the locker.” The deputy returned shortly with the cell encased in a plastic bag.

  “Thanks.” Mike pushed a number and instructed Freddy to come pick him up at the sheriff’s office. He had to hold the phone away from his ear due to Freddy’s hoots of raucous laughter.

  “Don’t tell me it was the little red-headed deputy that got you.”

  Mike snorted. “Okay, I won’t tell you.” He disconnected.

  ~*~

  “Sweetheart, you look flushed.” Millie Bailey’s face reflected her concern as she pressed the back of her hand against Darla’s forehead.

  She forced herself not to pull away, enduring her mother’s ministering with patience. “I’m fine, Mom.” She leaned her hip against the railing of the deck, seeking strength from any source at hand. “Were the boys good for you today?”

  “You know they’re always perfect little angels.” Millie smiled as two boys with flaming red hair made a beeline for Darla. They ran across the huge backyard that curled around the bay and scrambled noisily onto the deck.

  “Gwampop let us dig in the gawden!” Tad exclaimed.

  “An’ he let us pick little baby ‘matoes.” The stains on Kip’s shirt confirmed that he had, most likely, eaten more cherry tomatoes than he’d harvested.

  Darla noticed her father standing in his prized vegetable garden, expanded since his recent retirement. The former high school biology teacher had opted to retire after a thirty-year career in the same school district. He’d wanted to spend more time with Millie and his precious grandchildren. He waved a hand trowel at her.

  “Hey, Daddy!” she called, returning his wave.

  Millie slipped an arm around Darla’s waist. “How is it going, honey.

  Do you need anything?”

  Darla tasted tears at the back of her throat. Please, Mom. No sympathy. She drew a deep breath. “We’re getting by.”

  Millie took some folded bills out of her pocket. “Daddy and I wanted you to have this. Just for an emergency.” She tucked the money into Darla’s uniform pocket.

  “Mom, I can’t take any more money from you and Dad. I know that you’re on a fixed income now.” She dug in her pocket to retrieve the cash, but Millie’s hand stopped her.

  “It’s for the boys. You know they’ll be needing things. They’re growing like weeds. Please keep it.”

  Darla let out a long sigh. Her mom knew how to get to her.

  “You’re off tomorrow, aren’t you?” Millie asked.

  Darla nodded. “I was going to take the boys out for a sail in the Sunfish, if that’s okay with you and Dad.” She gestured to the small boat sitting at the end of the narrow pier, its mast and sail folded on top of the hull.

  “Of course, dear. We got it for you kids to enjoy anytime you like.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Darla called a goodbye to her dad and gathered her sons. She had two days off and intended to make some major changes during that time.

  ~*~

  Early the next morning, Alfred “Freddy” Ganados stared through his binoculars. “Big Mike, you’re telling me that that little hottie took you down?”

  Mike grunted, staring at Darla Calhoun through his own set of binoculars. “I let her take me down. I was in deep cover.”

  Mike and Freddy had been observing the comings and goings in the bay from the deck of the cabin cruiser, when he’d spotted his beautiful captor and two small boys with her trademark hair strolling down to the end of a private pier. An older couple followed them. The woman’s once-red hair had faded, diluted with streaks of white. Obviously her parents. They helped her sons to don life jackets and put the boat in the water.

  Mike watched as Darla rubbed sunscreen on the boys and then slipped off the big blue cotton work shirt she had been wearing. Her mother folded the shirt over her arm and covered Darla’s back with a layer of sunscreen. Sure, that fair skin would fry in the strong sunlight.

  Mike stared at Darla’s trim little hard body. The faded green bathing suit did nothing to enhance her curves, but it couldn’t hide her natural attributes either. His body seemed to be reacting to her attributes on its own.

  Darla covered her short crop of curls with a baseball cap and donned dark glasses. Stepping onto the boat, she helped the boys aboard and hoisted the sail. In a matter of seconds, they were under way.

  Mike’s chest swelled with admiration at the sight of a woman who could sail. It was a tiny bathtub of a boat, but she handled it masterfully, caught the breeze in the small triangle of sail and steered the boat with ease.

  Freddy let out a low whistle. “Man alive! That is one sweet looking babe. The moms at my kid’s school don’t look like that.”

  Mike swallowed. Darla’s body was compact, but perfectly toned. While not overly muscled, her arms and legs were defined. “I wonder what she does to stay in shape,” he muttered.

  Freddy guffawed. “She throws around big guys like you.”

  Mike grunted again, wondering where the husband was. He thought that, were he the man of the family, he’d be stuck on her like Velcro.

  ~*~

  Rafael drummed his fingers on his desk. Two of his deputies, Adriano Esquivel and Germaine Freeman, sat across from him. “I wonder what’s going on. You hear anything on patrol?”

  Adriano shook his head. “Just the usual. Drug runners tryin
g to make drops.”

  Germaine shrugged. “And the illegals.”

  Rafael nodded. Their location, approximately twenty miles north of the Mexican border made South Padre Island a prime access point for illegal aliens trying to enter the United States as well as those attempting to bring drugs and other contraband into the country. He sighed and raked his fingers through his thick hair. “Apparently, there’s some kind of an undercover operation going on and ICE is involved, but they don’t even have the courtesy to inform me.”

  “That guy Darla brought in,” Adriano asked. “He was some kind of agent?”

  “So it would seem,” Rafael said. “As soon as we ran his prints a security flag came up. A couple of Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents came to spring him yesterday afternoon.”

  Germaine’s face split into a wide grin. “Darla’s going to be pissed.”

  Rafael laughed and nodded. “And then some.”

  Adriano looked sullen. “You’d think they’d want our help. We’re the ones who know all the players.”

  Rafael shrugged. “That makes too much sense for the Feds.”

  ~*~

 

 

 


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