by Carolina Mac
He paid the fare and didn’t tip the driver, hoping he’d protest. No luck provoking him. He hopped out of the cab without a word and noted the name painted on the side of the car, ‘Rapid Taxi.’ What a joke. He’d make sure he didn’t call them again—unless they were the only ride in town. Still pissed, he jerked the door of the gun shop open and strode inside.
A tall blond guy behind the counter wearing a black polo shirt looked up from pricing boxes of ammo and smiled at him. “Hey, my first customer of the day.”
“Are you Tommy?” asked Rob.
“Yep. That’s me. Tommy Steele Junior. Somebody refer you?”
Rob nodded. “My ride’s getting fixed at the Harley dealership. The older counter guy sent me over.”
“Uh huh. Bobby Breslin. I’ve known him for a few years. Comes here to practice,” he hooked a thumb over his shoulder, “out back.”
“What do I need to buy a gun?”
“Just ID. And you have to be a resident of the state.”
Rob showed his Canadian passport. “I will be a resident soon. I’m moving here. Down near San Antonio.”
“Uh huh.” Tommy took a close look at the passport. “Got an actual address I can use on the paperwork?”
“Yep,” said Rob. “This is my wife’s address.” He pulled the scrap of paper out of his wallet with Grace’s last known address and laid it on the counter.
“Should be okay,” Tommy hesitated for a second, “that is, if you’re really moving to Texas, and you really have a wife. Got a picture of her?”
Rob pulled out his phone, scrolled to Grace’s picture—the one of her standing beside her truck with her foot up on the sidestep—and turned it towards Tommy.
“Fuck, man, she is some looker.” He took a second look at Rob, his tats and his long hair. “You sure that’s your wife?” He chuckled.
Rob smiled. “I’m sure.”
Tommy didn’t sound convinced. “How come your wife moved to Texas ahead of you?”
Rob hung it out there with a shrug. “I got detained.”
Tommy nodded and didn’t comment. “What kind of gun were you thinking of?”
“Not sure if I can afford a new one.” Rob wandered over to the showcase displaying ‘used and reconditioned’ models.
Tommy followed him, pulled a key out of his pocket and opened the case from the back. “This one is about the best deal I’ve got right now.” He laid the gun on the counter in front of Rob. “Beretta M9. Marine brought it in and traded for a hunting rifle.”
Rob checked the price and thought it was high, but he wasn’t up to date on gun prices. “Three hundred?”
“Sells for four new. I gave the guy a two-hundred-dollar credit on his Remington, so I need at least two-fifty.”
“Yeah, okay. I can do two-fifty. I’ll take a box of ammo too.”
“Try it first out back,” said Tommy as he reached for a box of ammo. “You want to be sure of the feel.”
“Yep. I’d like to try it out.”
“What did you shoot in Canada?”
“My brother’s old SW. Didn’t bother with guns much. Better with a knife.”
Tommy pointed to a glass display case on the other side of the room. “Got some beauties. They just came in last week. I’ll show you.”
Rob followed, leaned on the showcase and peered down at the myriad of knives and cases. One caught his eye and he pointed.
“Seal tactical.” Tommy nodded. “Good choice. I’ll see what kind of a package deal I can give you, if you decide to take the Beretta.” Tommy picked up the gun and the ammo from the counter, strode to the corner of the store and opened a door marked ‘range.’ “Watch the front, Dad,” he hollered into the office as they passed by, and an older man nodded. “Tom, Senior,” said Tommy.
The range was busier than the store. Three shooters making a helluva racket. Rob reached for noise mufflers from where they hung in a row on the wall, and put a pair on. Tommy set him up on spot number three, next to a red-haired girl shooting a rifle. He got a vibe from her right away, from her stance and what else? He didn’t know, but she had ‘cop’ written all over her.
He turned away from her, loaded the mag and slammed it in. Tommy watched until he was convinced Rob wouldn’t shoot himself in the nuts, then nodded and left him to it. Rob fired off a dozen rounds, then pulled the target in and checked it. He was concentrating on how far off the mark he was, when cop girl sneaked up on him. She peered over his shoulder and looked where he was looking. Rob felt her and cranked his head around. “You want something?”
She smiled. A lot of white teeth in a freckled face. “I like to see how good the competition is,” she said. “You look like a ganger I might have to kill in a dark alley, one night soon.”
What the fuck? Was she nuts?
Rob ignored her, picked up his ammo box and headed back into the store. Tommy was busy with a customer. Rob leaned on the counter and waited.
Cop girl came through the door with her targets in her hand and waved them at Tommy. “Might want to pin these up, Tom. See if any of these wannabees can beat me.”
She turned and smiled at Rob and he wanted to level her. Smart-ass bitch cop. Instead, he held up his smokes, Tom
nodded, and Rob stepped outside to cool off.
He lit up his second cigarette and was beginning to feel a bit calmer when cop girl came out of the store, still
hollering stuff to Tommy over her shoulder. She unlocked an orange Jeep parked in front—in the manager’s spot—stowed her gear, and instead of jumping in and leaving, she strutted over to where Rob was smoking.
“Got ID?”
“Why?”
She flipped out her badge and showed him.
It was her picture all right, but he couldn’t read her fuckin name.
“I’m asking, because I can. Now, show me.”
“Or what?”
“Or, I’ll drive you to the station and ask you some hard questions you probably can’t answer.”
Rob didn’t move. “Why are you hassling me?”
Cop girl squared herself in front of him and took a stance. “You’re giving off a vibe, biker-boy, and I’m usually right on when I pick up a signal like the one I’m getting from you.”
Rob smiled. “What’s your vibe telling you, cop-girl?”
Cop girl’s face flushed rosy-pink and her blue eyes flashed. “That you’re a lesser citizen. Bad news. Trouble in the making. Drugs, guns, all the rest of it.” She glanced around, “Where’s your Harley?”
“At the dealership waiting for a part.”
“And by the way, my name isn’t cop-girl, it’s Deputy Steele to you, punk.”
“Don’t call me punk, cop-girl. And by the way, my name is Rob Dakota… to you.”
“Uh huh. And while you’re waiting, biker-boy, you come over here for a little target practice?”
“Is that illegal?”
“Nope. Not in Texas, it sure isn’t.”
Rob threw his butt into the receptacle and turned to go back inside. “Tell you what, cop-girl, if you can’t come up with one single reason to arrest my ass, you’re gonna give me a ride over to Harley to pick up my bike.”
“Deal. Give me your DL.”
Rob opened his wallet and handed over his shiny new driver’s license. He watched Darlene climb into her Jeep, then he went back into the store to settle up with Tommy.
“Darlene shaking you down?” Tommy asked with a loud guffaw. “She thinks she’s God’s gift to the force, I swear.”
“You know her?”
“Yeah, kind of grew up with her. She’s my sister.”
“Fuck,” said Rob. “Think I pissed her off.”
“Doesn’t take much,” said Tommy. “I do it regular.” He bundled up Rob’s purchases and included a free bottle of Hoppes gun oil.
Rob counted out the total on the invoice and shoved what money he had left back into his pocket.
Tom offered his hand across the counter. “Nice meeting
you, Rob.”
DARLENE STOOD BESIDE her Jeep, her arm outstretched to return Rob’s driver’s license. No smile. “Get in. I’ll drop you.”
Rob couldn’t help but grin. “Hey, thanks.” He slipped his license back into his wallet and put it in his pocket. He jumped in the passenger seat and stowed his bag on the floor.
“What are you doing in Texas?” She pulled out onto the road and headed for the corner.
“Why do you care as long as it ain’t illegal?”
“You didn’t just cross the Canadian border and take a long ride south for the fun of it.”
Why should I talk to this cop?
“Maybe I did. Nobody’s business but mine.”
“I’ve got a good read on people. You’re tense—tighter than a bow string and… antsy. You’ve got someplace to be, and you can’t wait to get going. And you’re not happy. Anybody with half an eye could see that.”
Rob eased back into the seat and let out a breath. He didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t talk to cops. And never girl-cops. But the words tumbled out of his mouth on their own accord. “I can’t find my wife and my son. They haven’t been heard from in a month.”
Darlene cranked her head around to stare at him. “Are you shittin me? Never would have guessed you were married. Why’d you wait so long? Did you file an MP report?”
“Yep, her brother did that right away. So far nothing.”
“Why is she down here and you’re not? Are you separated or something?”
“Yeah… or something,” said Rob. “Only by circumstances. I can tell you what happened, but I don’t see what good it would do me.”
“I want to hear it. Maybe I can help.”
“Don’t think so, and I don’t like talkin about it.”
“Might make you feel better if you told somebody. I can see the stress in your face.”
“But why should I tell you?”
Darlene parked in front of the Harley store and turned off the engine. “I’m a good listener and I have access to some data bases that might be helpful. What have you got to lose?”
“I’m not good at talking. Grace could tell you that.”
“Grace? Is that her name?”
Rob nodded and felt the burning behind his eyes.
“What’s your little boy’s name?”
“Joey,” he said in no more than a whisper.
Darlene lowered her window. “Go ahead. Lay it on me.” She listened for ten minutes while Rob wound down. When he was finished an edited version of the story, she nodded.
“I’ve never talked so much in my whole fuckin life.”
“Shit, Rob.” Darlene seemed stressed. “That’s a helluva depressing story. Go see if your ride is ready. If not, we’ll grab some lunch.”
“What?”
I don’t want to have lunch with a fucking cop.
Jay was hard at work on his bike when Rob strode into the garage. He glanced up and wiped his greasy hands on a rag. “Part came a while ago. Another hour.”
“Yep. I’ll come back.” Rob turned and left. He stood beside the Jeep and spoke to Darlene through her window. “Almost done. I can wait here.”
“I get it. You don’t want to have lunch with me.”
“I’m not good company,” said Rob. “Especially with women. Never have been.”
“You must have been decent company once if you got yourself a wife. Get in.”
Shit.
Rob jumped into the shotgun seat feeling irritation creeping up the back of his neck. “Why aren’t you out on patrol or something. Shaking down innocent guys with long hair and putting them in lineups.” He stared across the console at the short red hair and wondered what she’d look like in a uniform.
“Umm… I’m on a few days off.”
“And you picked on me to amuse yourself on your days off?”
She nodded. “Yep, something like that. Where do you want to eat?”
“Like I know any places to eat in this town? You’re the one who lives here.”
“Don’t blow a fuse, Rob. I get that you’re stressed.” She slowed down and turned into a Ruby Tuesdays’ parking lot. “They have a decent salad bar here.”
“I like salad,” said Rob.
“Don’t fuck with me.” Darlene hopped out and pressed the key fob to lock up her Jeep.
“What? Because I’m a biker I can’t like fuckin salad?” Rob jerked the door of the restaurant open and Darlene stomped past him.
“Yeah, something like that.” She walked right up to the hostess and held up two fingers in the girl’s face. The hostess grabbed two menus and virtually ran to find them a table.
Rob ordered Coors draft when the server came to their table. Darlene said she’d have ice water.
“You drink beer at lunch?”
“I drink beer anytime I feel like drinking it. Are you writing my fuckin biography?”
Darlene smiled at him. “You’re funny. Does your wife tell you that?”
“Don’t talk about Grace.” Rob pulled the menu up in front of his face, so he couldn’t see Darlene staring at him.
“That’s a nice name. Grace.”
Rob dropped the menu on the table and his hand edged towards the dinner knife. Shit. Reflex. “I said, don’t.”
Darlene held up a hand. “Okay, okay.”
The server brought the drinks and Darlene went to the salad bar. Rob sipped his beer and wondered why in hell this cop had attached herself to him like a fuckin leech. He had to get rid of her before she sucked any more blood.
She came back to the table with a plate loaded up with six kinds of salad. While she was at the salad bar, the waitress had come by and Rob ordered soup.
“I thought you were getting salad.” Darlene sat down and spread her napkin in her lap. She picked up her fork, ate a pickled beet, then began shoveling in the food.
Rob drank his beer and took stock of the woman sitting across from him. Muscled up arms, like she worked out all the time. She was heavy, she must weight close to one fifty, but no sign of fat. Probably a powerhouse in a fight.
“Why do you have days off? Vacation time?”
“Two-week suspension,” she said between bites. “Use of unnecessary force.”
Rob smiled as the server set a bowl of minestrone soup in front of him.
“That all you’re eating? Fucking soup?”
“You got a problem with what I eat?” He growled, then a smile crossed his face. “You gonna force me to eat more?”
A smile played around her mouth and then she chuckled. “I like you, Rob. Bad-ass con, but you’re funny.”
“What makes you think I’m a con?”
“I’ve got eyes, and I’m in the business.”
Rob nodded. “Another one of those vibes you’re so fuckin good at picking up.” Rob crushed his crackers in his fist and hurled them at his soup. Some made it. Some didn’t.
Darlene giggled. “I’m getting more salad.”
“Get me some slaw.”
She turned her head and hollered, “Get your own.”
THE SPORTSTER SAT in front of the open bay door at the Harley store. Rob went inside to pay the bill and pick up his keys after cop-girl dropped him off. What a fuckin waste of time having lunch with her. He felt like decking her more often than not.
A fuckin nut case, that’s what she is. I pity the next guy she grabs onto. Feel sorry for her brother too. He’s a nice guy.
Rob paid cash for the repair on his bike, then stuck his head in the garage door to thank Jay.
“Did you get over to Steele’s?”
“Yep. All squared away. Thanks for everything.”
“No problem. Ride safe.”
Rob sat on his bike, stuck the key in the ignition but didn’t start it up. He wanted to talk to Jerry first and didn’t need the rumble. He pressed the contact number—the only one in the phone and Jerry answered on the first ring.
“Hey, I was waiting for you to call. Did you find out anything?”<
br />
“Not yet, but I’m in Texas. I had bike trouble, but it’s fixed now, and I should make it to San Antonio later today.”
“Good, that’s great. Any trouble at the border?”
“No more than usual, for a guy who looks like me.”
“I was worried about that,” said Jerry, “but on a happier note, Kate and I have a baby girl.”
Rob smiled. “Congrats, buddy. She got a name?”
“Not yet, but maybe today we’ll decide. She’s gorgeous. Wait till you see her.”
“I’m happy for you guys,” said Rob. “Anything else?”
“One of your friends dropped by. A bald guy with ugly tats all over him.”
Rob sucked in a breath. “What did you tell him?”
“Not much. You went to Texas. That was about it.”
Fuck.
“If anyone else drops by or calls, tell them you don’t know where I am.”
“Okay.” Jerry paused and figured it out. “I take it that wasn’t your buddy, like he said he was?”
“Nope.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. Gotta go.”
Frobisher’s gang. That’s how they found out. Those guys are brainwashed asswipes.
CHAPTER SIX
GRACE STARED OUT the front window of the trailer, a cold cup of coffee in her hand. How long had she been standing there looking at her little patch of grass that needed mowing? She wasn’t seeing it. The inertia that had become her new norm paralyzed her, mind and body.
But she had made a decision—today would be the day. When Joey woke up, she’d give him his breakfast and then do it. She’d drive into town.
Ted growled and ran to the door before the knock came. Grace was startled. Her hand shook, she dropped her mug and it smashed on the hardwood. Cold coffee spread out like a dark lake. Who was it? She hadn’t seen anybody on the narrow road in front of the trailer. She trembled as she took a step towards the door and grabbed hold of Ted’s collar.
Stop it, Grace. Get hold of yourself.
Forgetting that she was only wearing pajama shorts and a wrinkled t-shirt she’d slept in, Grace put on a fake smile, held onto the dog and pulled the door open.