Fit to Be Tied [Marshals: 2] by Mary Calmes

jurisdictional lines slipped through the cracks. Many PDs didn’t have the resources or manpower to simply follow a fugitive across the country. But what they could do was bring their missing violent criminals to the marshals service, and we would form what basically amounted to a posse made up of federal, state, and local law enforcement personnel to hunt down whoever they were after. Joyner had approached the marshals in Portland, and they had in turn accessed case records in Chicago and found a lead on her fugitive. The rest was simply waiting and watching.
    “I appreciate this so much, gentlemen.”
    “It’s our job,” Ian assured her.
    “It is,” I agreed.
    “So tell me a good place to eat before we go back to the hotel.”
    I suggested Girl & The Goat downtown, but Ian wanted meat and beer so we decided on Trenchermen over on North Avenue. I’d taken him once before and the hanger steak there was his new favorite thing. Sadly, when I called to check, the dining room was closed, and since it was past 10:00 p.m., our options were dwindling. Ian’s second idea was Mexican, El Charro over on Milwaukee Ave. He went on and on about the extralarge super burrito with scrambled eggs and chorizo until even Kowalski was salivating. Joyner and some others agreed to follow us there.
    He was excited to see that the driver’s-side door on the Taurus was caved in from the fugitive’s impact, so we had to have it towed back to our garage. We technically weren’t allowed to drive a vehicle in any condition where the structural integrity could be called into question.
    “Gimme a break, it’s fine,” I told Ian. “It’s still drivable. That’s only a ding.”
    “It’s a big fuckin’ ding,” Kowalski informed me.
    I pointed at Ian. “He just doesn’t wanna drive it anymore.”
    “Yeah, I can’t blame him,” Kohn admitted, looking revolted. “It doesn’t scream armed and dangerous, more middle management.”
    Kowalski shivered. “I can’t even fit in that.”
    I snorted in spite of myself, and Ian cracked a grin. “Fine,” I relented. “We’ll have it towed back so the dent can be banged out.”
    Ian’s whoop of happiness made me smile.
    “Call it in,” I directed, shaking my head when he hit my abdomen in excitement.
     
     
    H EADING TO the restaurant, riding in the back seat of the Mercedes Benz that was Kohn and Kowalski’s vehicle, I complained about how slow he was driving.
    “Miro’s used to me taking the corners on two wheels.” Ian snickered.
    “I try and keep all tires on the road at all times,” Kohn affirmed in his superserious voice.
    I approved of that, just not the lack of speed. When I complained some more, he actually hit the gas, but not enough to make me happy.
    “I could die of old age back here,” I insisted, leaning forward between him and Kowalski. “Lemme drive.”
    “Not on your life,” Kohn assured me as his partner put a massive hand on my face and shoved me back.
    I turned to Ian. “You gonna let him treat me like that?”
    Since he couldn’t stop laughing, I figured my backup was not forthcoming.
    After we’d eaten, we walked three doors down to a bar Ian knew, and he and the marshals from Oregon, along with me and Kohn—Kowalski bailed to drive Joyner and one of the other detectives back to their hotel—got down to some serious drinking.
    When the stories started getting swapped, I was ready to go. It was well after midnight and we all had to work later today. But Ian got talked into darts and more drinks and finally, around one thirty, I had to take drastic measures.
    I caught him coming out of the bathroom as I lay in wait.
    “Hey.”
    He turned fast, saw me leaning against the exposed brick wall, and strolled over.
    “What’re you doin’?”
    I shrugged. “I’m beat, so I’m gonna head out.”
    “Without me?” he asked, instantly concerned.
    “I don’t want to keep you from having a good time.”
    He took a breath.
    “Unless you’d rather come