A Voice from the Field by Neal Griffin Page B

that?” Tia paused. “Or maybe it’s who you gave up.”
    â€œBullshit.” For the first time Kane lost his cool. “I didn’t give up nothin’. I got no problem doing time for kicking the shit out of cops. Even little dyke cops like you. That builds a lot of cred in my world.”
    â€œBut you’re not doing time. You’re walking out.”
    â€œYou’ll have to ask that pretty little lawyer why she took such a shine to me.” Kane shrugged. “My animal magnetism, maybe.”
    â€œI’m thinking there’s more to it than that, Kane. I’m betting your cracker homeboys will, too.”
    Kane nodded and leaned in, closer than before. He put his hands flat on the table, the metal cuffs scraping loudly against the wood surface.
    â€œDo what you want, I got no worries. My people know, Gunther Kane ain’t gonna make a deal with cops.”
    â€œListen, Kane—”
    â€œNo, you listen,” he said, cutting her off. “I don’t often make snap judgments about folks. Making assumptions is a bad habit. But you?” Kane tossed his head in a gesture of dismissal. “I’m pretty confident I’ve got you figured out.”
    â€œHow’s that, Kane?”
    â€œMy lawyer tells me you’re damaged goods.” Kane raised his cuffed hands and tapped his finger against the side of his head. “Maybe even a little off upstairs.”
    Tia stared back, feeling exposed, laid open before him. When she said nothing, he went on.
    â€œFrom what he tells me, you’ve had some issues in courtrooms lately. You ever think maybe that’s why I might be getting a walk?”
    Tia’s mind reeled with anger and embarrassment. Her chin quivered involuntarily, pissing her off all the more.
    Again came Kane’s grin of satisfaction. “Don’t cry, honey. Just know, you’re gonna want to think long and hard about any further associations with me. That could end bad for you. Real bad. My personal opinion? Cute little gal like you, with all you’ve been through lately? You ought not to be out playing cops and robbers. You could end up on the wrong end of some serious shit. Again.”
    The last word hit Tia hard. She remembered his hand over her mouth. The strength of his grip as he pushed her toward the van. The girl staring back at her. His weight on top of her. Tia’s heart began to pound.
    Kane stood, the chair groaning again as he moved. Tia half-expected it to snap into a half-dozen splintered pieces. The guard backed up three quick steps.
    â€œI get it, Suarez. I’ll bet you’re taking a lot of shit from your cop buddies. You need to show everybody you still got it, right?” His voice deepened, growing even more firm. “Whatever it is you need to prove ain’t gonna involve me. We’re done. Go back to Newberg. Write some damn parking tickets or whatever, but leave this shit alone. You don’t want any part of me.”
    Kane glared at her, waiting for a response. Tia sat in frozen silence, as if her throat had somehow been clamped shut. She knew Kane sensed victory. Even the jail guard was smirking as if enjoying a rare chance to feel superior. Somewhere in the distance the shrill sound of an alarm signaled the beginning or end of some jailhouse routine. The guard gave the door three sharp raps.
    When the door opened, Kane raised an eyebrow, but Tia was still incapable of speech. His smile grew wider as he turned and walked out, followed by his obedient escort. The door slammed shut and Tia sat alone in the small room, staring at nothing. Her fingers took up a new beat, drumming against the table, and her knee bounced hard underneath.

 
    SEVEN
    From the doorway Tia stole a look inside. Lit from behind by the midday sun, Ben Sawyer was turned away from her, staring at a framed photograph of his family that he held in two hands. Tia knew the picture well. She had taken it a few