as his fiancée. Darryl came over with the intention of raping her.”
“Why?”
“Because of Jack’s affair with Abbey.”
“Charming.”
“Darryl was about to get violent when someone—not Emma—shot him from the hill across the street.”
I try to piece it together. “The bombing occurred several hours after the homicide?”
“That’s right. We spent hours working the Darryl Rhodes homicide. When we’d done all we could, we cordoned off the area and everyone went home. Moments later, the bombs went off. It was like he was waiting for everyone to leave.”
“The grease pen guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Anyone get a good look at him?”
“No. It was dark, and like I said, the three that may have seen him were disoriented.”
“You think the grease pen guy had something to do with the bombs?”
“I do. But he wasn’t flying the crop duster.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“Witnesses saw a crop duster flying over the lake, heading toward Leeds Road. That’s rare for nighttime, so they kept watching and saw the pilot drop some sort of dust bomb. Then a missile of some kind flew up from the lake and exploded in the middle of the first bomb.”
“Then what happened?”
“All hell broke loose.”
“Anyone seen Jack?”
“We haven’t been able to locate him, but it turns out he was using an alias, too. His real name is—”
“Jack Tallow. I know. Thanks, Sheriff.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the tent.”
“The FBI told us to wait till they get here before questioning the BWC’s.”
“Sounds like good advice.”
Callie and I show our credentials to the deputy guarding the tent, and he goes through the process of pretending to study them while scoping out Callie’s crotch. I swear, her pants are annoying the shit out of me, even though I’m enjoying the view as much as anyone.
The three of us go in the tent and I tell Joe to remove everyone except the cute twenty-year-old girl.
“Where should I take them?”
“Stand with them outside the tent. We’ll call you in a minute.”
Joe escorts five people out, leaving Callie and me with the young lady.
“What’s your name?”
“Abbey Rhodes.” She, too, checks out Callie’s lower half. Then says, “You ain’t from around here.”
“Sadly, no,” Callie says.
“Where’d you get them pants?”
“They’re not pants,” Callie says. “It’s spray paint.”
“No shit? You just sprayed paint on your legs?”
Abbey practically puts her face in Callie’s crotch to get a closer look. As she does so, Callie smiles at me to prove how easy it is for her to get female attention. Trying to make the point if I want her to be faithful I need to stay on my toes.
Callie says, “You’re not related to the Rhodes Scholarship folks, are you?”
“No ma’am.”
“What a shock.”
I say, “Abbey, I understand someone wrote some letters on your backside.”
“Some asshole, you mean. What about it?”
“Show us.”
“Fuck you!”
Callie’s body and hands become a blur. She drops into a crouch and jabs her thumb and forefinger deep into Abbey’s stomach. As Abbey starts to double over in pain, Callie unbuttons her jeans, pulls them down to her knees, along with her panties. By then, Abbey’s torso has fallen onto Callie’s shoulder. Callie stands, and holds Abbey over her shoulder like a fireman rescuing a woman from a burning building.
The entire procedure took less than two seconds!
The fact that Abbey’s quite pretty has nothing to do with how carefully I inspect her ass. And the longer I stare, the harder she kicks. She’s seconds away from getting her breath back, at which point she’ll probably scream.
“Getting an eye full?” Callie says, with great annoyance.
“Let’s change places.”
We do, and Callie sees what I saw: a helluva nice ass with no writing on it.
No initials, no grease residue, no marks of any kind.
I can’t blame Abbey for being mad. On the other hand, I did ask her nicely to
“Why?”
“Because of Jack’s affair with Abbey.”
“Charming.”
“Darryl was about to get violent when someone—not Emma—shot him from the hill across the street.”
I try to piece it together. “The bombing occurred several hours after the homicide?”
“That’s right. We spent hours working the Darryl Rhodes homicide. When we’d done all we could, we cordoned off the area and everyone went home. Moments later, the bombs went off. It was like he was waiting for everyone to leave.”
“The grease pen guy?”
“Yeah.”
“Anyone get a good look at him?”
“No. It was dark, and like I said, the three that may have seen him were disoriented.”
“You think the grease pen guy had something to do with the bombs?”
“I do. But he wasn’t flying the crop duster.”
“You’ve lost me.”
“Witnesses saw a crop duster flying over the lake, heading toward Leeds Road. That’s rare for nighttime, so they kept watching and saw the pilot drop some sort of dust bomb. Then a missile of some kind flew up from the lake and exploded in the middle of the first bomb.”
“Then what happened?”
“All hell broke loose.”
“Anyone seen Jack?”
“We haven’t been able to locate him, but it turns out he was using an alias, too. His real name is—”
“Jack Tallow. I know. Thanks, Sheriff.”
“Where are you going?”
“To the tent.”
“The FBI told us to wait till they get here before questioning the BWC’s.”
“Sounds like good advice.”
Callie and I show our credentials to the deputy guarding the tent, and he goes through the process of pretending to study them while scoping out Callie’s crotch. I swear, her pants are annoying the shit out of me, even though I’m enjoying the view as much as anyone.
The three of us go in the tent and I tell Joe to remove everyone except the cute twenty-year-old girl.
“Where should I take them?”
“Stand with them outside the tent. We’ll call you in a minute.”
Joe escorts five people out, leaving Callie and me with the young lady.
“What’s your name?”
“Abbey Rhodes.” She, too, checks out Callie’s lower half. Then says, “You ain’t from around here.”
“Sadly, no,” Callie says.
“Where’d you get them pants?”
“They’re not pants,” Callie says. “It’s spray paint.”
“No shit? You just sprayed paint on your legs?”
Abbey practically puts her face in Callie’s crotch to get a closer look. As she does so, Callie smiles at me to prove how easy it is for her to get female attention. Trying to make the point if I want her to be faithful I need to stay on my toes.
Callie says, “You’re not related to the Rhodes Scholarship folks, are you?”
“No ma’am.”
“What a shock.”
I say, “Abbey, I understand someone wrote some letters on your backside.”
“Some asshole, you mean. What about it?”
“Show us.”
“Fuck you!”
Callie’s body and hands become a blur. She drops into a crouch and jabs her thumb and forefinger deep into Abbey’s stomach. As Abbey starts to double over in pain, Callie unbuttons her jeans, pulls them down to her knees, along with her panties. By then, Abbey’s torso has fallen onto Callie’s shoulder. Callie stands, and holds Abbey over her shoulder like a fireman rescuing a woman from a burning building.
The entire procedure took less than two seconds!
The fact that Abbey’s quite pretty has nothing to do with how carefully I inspect her ass. And the longer I stare, the harder she kicks. She’s seconds away from getting her breath back, at which point she’ll probably scream.
“Getting an eye full?” Callie says, with great annoyance.
“Let’s change places.”
We do, and Callie sees what I saw: a helluva nice ass with no writing on it.
No initials, no grease residue, no marks of any kind.
I can’t blame Abbey for being mad. On the other hand, I did ask her nicely to
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