The house felt a lot bigger inside than it looked from the street, and it surprised me. All it did was give Miguel and his crew more space to junk up. Black trash bags filled to the brim were stacked by the sliding glass doors. A swag lamp hung lopsided from the ceiling, its light shining down on a nude statue in a cage as some sort of substance curled its way down the bars. Class all the way. Beer cans and cheap wine boxes competed for space with ashtrays spilling over with cigarettes, cigars, and God knows what else on every available surface.
I’m no Martha what’s-her-name, but conditions in the house sucked even by my standards. Artificial flowers on the table behind the couch hung low with the weight of dust and neglect. Velvet paintings everywhere, with Jesus in one pose or another in most of them, the only exception being female nudes possessed of outrageous tits. Jesus opened his arms to embrace me from a large statue on a coffee table. Don’t know how much he helped the troops here, but it wasn’t from a lack of trying.
I followed Miguel down the hallway toward the back of the house to the master bedroom he’d converted into an office. Compared to the rest of the house, this room sparkled. Clean white walls, florescent lights, computers, printers, an array of phones, and spotless beige carpet. Miguel definitely had his shit together.
“Impressive,” I said, looking around.
“Take a seat.” Miguel pointed to a huge, curved cowhide sofa. “Tell me about this college shit you’re into. Why college all of a sudden?”
I bounced on the sofa. I gotta get me one of these. “New beginnings,” I said. I stretched my arms out and rubbed hide that used to be a cow. “Last round at Midland Correctional sorta flipped a switch in me. Like it’s now or never. I either get my shit together, or—” I inhaled the leather aroma. “I might be fucked.”
“You got ambition,” Miguel said. “I hear you. The short time I’ve known you I’ve been impressed. We could use a smart guy like you in our organization. What classes are you taking?”
“Basics. art, English, and math. Took geology as a lark. Dug it, pun intended.”
“See?” Miguel said. “That’s what I’m talking about. Pendejos I’m working with wouldn’t know a pun from a gun. Frankly they’d much prefer the latter.”
“Why you so interested in my college?”
Ignoring the question, Miguel continued, “What are you taking next? This coming semester?”
“Don’t know yet. Just got the class catalog.”
“I’d suggest chemistry. Some of the shit we’re into, it might come in handy. Also, criminal justice. That CSI criminal investigation shit is smoking, man. You pick up tips on crime scenes, collection of evidence, how the cops use forensics. Good shit to know in our line of work.”
“I never thought of that.” I truly hadn’t.
“Why not, right? If we know what they are looking for, we can prepare better. Tip the odds in our favor a little.”
“But chemistry? Seriously? I’ve heard that’s no skate class.”
“You got brains, and I got faith in you.”
“Certainly worth thinking about,” I said.
Miguel’s fat mustache framed his generous lips. He leaned forward and steepled his fingers under his chin. “If I were you, I’d more than think about it. Comprende?”
I understood just fine. Chemistry and criminal law, here I come. “Sounds good,” I said.
He nodded, as if my class schedule was one more detail solved. “Now go grab a beer or something. I got work to do.”
He focused on the huge computer screen on the end of his desk. A stock ticker crawled across the bottom. He tapped a few buttons, called up charts and graphs. He frowned and muttered to himself. He’d dismissed me, and as far as he was concerned, I’d left minutes before. Miguel, gangbanger, caper planner, stock trader?
I walked out with new respect and a newer list of questions. Chief among them, what the hell had I gotten myself into?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kailey
Hungry, I stopped at a Starbuck’s for a muffin and a cup of Kenya Roast coffee. I snagged a banana from a basket on the counter and heard “Kailey, as I live and breathe, what are you doing here?”
I turned and saw mother’s dear friend standing behind me. Damn. “Gail, how are you? I haven’t seen you in forever.”
Her white blouse fit snug over pancake boobs and large belly. The woman had gained fifty pounds since I last saw her ten years ago. Her hair had gone a dull dirty gray. But, the close-set eyes still held the malice she chewed for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She loved to gossip. “Haven’t seen you in a month of Sundays, Kailey. Your mother said you’d joined the police force. Keeping our city safe now, are we?”
“Which reminds me.” I glanced at my watch for emphasis and put the banana back in the basket. “I’ve gotta run. I’m late for work and I need to change. Good to see you, Gail.”
“I’m never late for work, Kailey. That doesn’t show respect for your job. Goodbye now, dear.” Her smile reminded me of a feral cat toying with a mouse.
I waved and practically ran to my car. Now I gotta find another Starbuck’s. As I approached my car I noticed an ominous tilt over my front left tire. Shit. I glanced back at the Starbuck’s. A double espresso would sure come in handy about now.
I called my captain and explained why I’d be late. After a half an hour, sweaty and dirty, I rolled home on my spare smelling worse than a desert armadillo. A nice cool shower and a change of clothes and I’d be a whole new person.
I stomped up the walk and banged through the front door. “Momma, I’m home.”
Momma rolled out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “My lands. Aren’t you a sight.”
“Had a flat tire.” Sweat stung my eyes. “Why isn’t the air on?”
“I hadn’t noticed, dear.” Her speech came slow and deliberate. Maybe she needed a nap.
“I’m going to clean up and change.”
Ten minutes later I finished drying off and had on most of my second uniform when I heard a loud thud and moan in the hallway.
“Momma? Are you all right?”
No response.
I cinched my pants and flew from my bedroom to see my mother on the floor, her wheelchair upended beside her. “Momma, what did you do? Why did you try to get out of your chair?”
“I’m cold baby and my head feels like it’s going to explode.” Her teeth chattered. “Could you give me a cover? I’ll be fine.”
“Don’t you move a muscle. You hear me? I’ll be right back.” I ran for the linen closet and fished my cell out of my pocket at the same time. I plucked a blanket off the middle shelf and dialed 911.
Momma’s eyes had closed by the time I returned with the blanket. I laid down beside her and held her until the paramedics came.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Junior
I sat in the computer lab at school brain-deep in my geology paper. Books scattered around me. Ideas flew out of my brain onto the blinking screen. My phone pinged with a text message. I glanced at it. Miguel. I turned the phone off and kept my analysis going, deep in the ground. Next up, write about the substance of the rocks and then the history of the earth’s physical structure in its relationship as a planetary body in the galaxy. Crazy, mind-blowing information. I consumed every sentence and wanted more. Maybe one day I’ll go on a dig and get my hands in the earth and know I touched more than dust and dirt. Know its proper name. Know its origins. Cool stuff.
After another hour the lab assistant announced, “Ten minutes to closing, people.” Shit. I shut the books, hit Print on the computer, and stuffed everything into my backpack. I stood and stretched. Gotta pay for hard copies of my work so far. I couldn’t wait to get home and finish my thoughts. I’d plunged so deep in the earth I could touch lava. Hell, I was the lava, smokin’, on fire.
I rounded the corner to my apartment complex dreaming up a title for a geology paper when I heard loud music and saw kids milling around on the stairs up to my pla
ce. My door stood wide open. I took the stairs two at a time and found a party in full swing. One woman squealed, not having fun at all. What the hell?
I pushed inside and elbowed my way into my bedroom in time to see Freddie Medina on my bed on top of Patricia. He clawed at her blouse and she slapped him. He grabbed a fistful of bra and ripped it away, exposing her breasts. Several guys leaning against the wall passed a joint and elbowed each other, leering.
I dropped my papers on the dresser. “Get off my bed.” My guts seethed, but my voice came out calm as death. I grabbed Freddie by the ponytail and yanked his head back, ripping him off my friend. “I said get OFF!” I glared at the rest of the group. “YOU, OUT!” They slunk out the door muttering and shoving each other in the back.
I still gripped a hunk of Freddie’s hair. I stepped back and used it to fling him to the side. He thumped against the wall and rolled to his feet spitting mad.
The forehead vein running through Fuck You pulsed red. “I’ll kill you for that, ese.” He smiled and smoothed back his hair. “Maybe some other time.” He straightened his clothes. “Miguel told us to collect you. You weren’t here, so—” He shrugged. “We took our little amusements.”
“In my house? With my neighbor?” I stepped forward and snapped a straight, hard right at the center of his smiling face. His head rolled with the punch. Apparently he’d practiced getting his ugly mug smashed in. I popped him with a tight left hook to the body, and he gasped and fell to a knee. “Amused yet?” I drew back a leg to plant my size eleven on his forehead, when Chigger and Dog rushed in the room and pulled me off.
I shook free and whirled on them. “You double pieces of shit. What the fuck do you think you’re doing disrespecting me in my house?” I looked over at Patricia. She’d scooted under the covers and rolled into a fetal position, sobbing.
“Miguel ain’t gonna like this,” Chigger said.
Dog nodded in agreement but said nothing, clearly the wiser of the two.
“Miguel wants to talk to me, he knows where to find me. Now get this pile of shit out of my place.” I snapped a kick into Freddie’s mid-section. “Take the rest of your fan club with you.”
Miguel’s two soldados hoisted their comrade between them and shuffled out. Fuck You mumbled something about me being a dead man as they passed.
“You first,” I said and slammed the door on their sweaty backs.
When I turned around, Patricia had gathered herself enough to lie still beneath the covers clasped tight to her chin, all wide eyes and disheveled hair. I walked to the bed carefully, like approaching a skittish deer. Her eyes followed me as I got close and I sat on the bed beside her. “I am so sorry, Patricia. I didn’t know they were coming.”
Her eyes shifted to mine, and after several seconds she appeared to make some kind of decision. She sat up, still with the covers high, and tried to speak. “I—I—” Words dissolved into tears.
I scooted over to put my arms around her. I felt like all clumsy edges and hard surfaces closing around something soft and fragile.
We stayed like that for a minute or an hour, I couldn’t tell, until her shaking subsided and she pushed away from me. “I am so embarrassed, Junior, for you to see me like that and for me to be so stupid to let myself—”
I grabbed both her shoulders and squeezed lightly. “No, please Patricia. It’s me who owes you an apology. Those assholes never should have come here. If I knew, I would have—”
“Are those, those people, your friends?”
“What? No. Not at all. I work with them. Sometimes. Not long.”
“Could you?” She made a gesture with her hand. “Turn around please?”
“Oh, god, I’m sorry.” I got up and turned my back and heard the bed springs creak.
“I’m okay now. Thank you.”
I turned back around and watched her fumbling at the bottom her blouse. No buttons left.
“Oh, my,” is all she said. She gathered the two blouse ends and tied them together. “There. That should do it.” She straightened. “I should have known. They didn’t look like people I thought you might associate with, and I guess I thought they might be robbers or something. Stupid, I know.” She chuckled, small and quietly. “When I saw them go up to your apartment, I didn’t know what to do, so I stepped out of my place and told the young man with the awful tattoo on his forehead that you weren’t home. I hoped they’d leave but he said they knew you and would wait.
“Then later they were making so much noise I went up and told them I would call the police if they didn’t stop.” She hugged herself. “When he grabbed me I’ve never been so scared in my life.” She shivered.
I went to her and held her a second time. I thought it might be the only time I held a woman for her comfort and not mine.
She pushed away and asked, “What should we do? Call the police? I know your apartment must be a shambles.”
“Police would only make things worse with those people. Trust me. If you are okay with it, I’d like to handle this myself.”
“Only if you promise they will never come back.”
“You have my word.”
She smiled a weak smile. “Bless you. That’s good enough for me.” She straightened her back and then peered at me with an embarrassed smile. “Would you mind walking me to my apartment? I’m still a little nervous, I think, or I don’t know—”
“Are you sure you’re up to it? You could stay here a bit longer if you like.”
She shuddered and covered it with a little shake of her head. “No, I mean I’m okay, a tiny bit nervous, like I said.”
“I’m your guy. For this and anything else you might need. After all you’ve done for me.”
She glanced around at my mess. “Maybe when I get home you could check to see no one is hiding out in my place.”
“Consider it done.”
I walked her home. Escorted her inside and walked through every room, opening doors and checking under beds. After we made sure all her windows were locked, I returned to my place.
The pendejos destroyed my apartment. Not sure where to begin, I went for the smallest room first, my bathroom. Everything in my medicine cabinet filled my sink. The bedroom mirror hung at an angle, every drawer pulled open and empty, clothes wadded up and stuffed in creative places. My shorts swung from the overhead light along with one of my socks. I straightened things as best I could, mainly dumping clothes and towels in a big pile in the hallway. I shut the door and headed for my kitchen. Eggs broken in the sink. Glasses and plates shattered on the counters and the floor. All the food in the refrigerator either half eaten or missing entirely. I walked over to the open door leading out to my landing. My books and papers from my classes lay scattered about like trash left over from a street parade.
I dialed Miguel.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kailey and Shinto
The ambulance screamed off for Midland Memorial Hospital. I followed, my mind a hopeless jumble of recriminations and prayers. How did I not see this coming? Please God spare my Momma. Take me, spare her. I sent a new prayer heavenward at every intersection.
I screeched to a halt in the emergency loading zone and rushed in to the receptionist.
An ancient couple beat me there by half a second.
The old gentleman asked, “Where is our grandson Thomas J? Thomas J. Humboldt?” He continued without giving the receptionist time to answer, “Tommy called and said he fell off his skateboard and thought his arm might be broken. Damn fool. What good is a skateboard anyway? Why are they building skate parks? Tell me that. Waste of the taxpayer’s money if you ask me. Kids break their necks and we have to pay the bills. Stupid government. What the hell is this country coming to?”
I tapped my foot on the floor, ready to jump out of my skin. I peered around them.
The receptionist smiled up from her computer. “He’s with the doctor. Please take a seat. When the doctor finishes examining him, a nurse will take you back to see him.”
The stoop-shouldered woman next to him wearing a clean polyester housedress with yellow flowers pulled the old man by the elbow, her fingers knobby with arthritis. She put her mouth to his ear and shouted, “She said we need to wait over here.” She pointed to the blue sofa in the corner.
He stood rooted to the spot in front of the receptionist. “Well, why didn’t she say that so I could hear her?”
“Delbert, if you’d put in your hearing aids, you would’ve heard her.” She tugged his arm and pointed to the side of the room. “For that matter you shoulda put in your teeth.”
“I can hear fine, she didn’t enunciate. Damn, younguns these days.” He shuffled into the waiting area.
The receptionist nodded at me. “May I help you?”
I tapped my badge. “I’m Officer Kailey Carmichael. Ambulance brought my mother here. Margaret Carmichael.”
The receptionist’s fingers danced across her keyboard. “Your mother is having an MRI at present and a stroke alert has been called.” She handed me a clipboard. “Please fill out her paperwork.”
After numerous pages of questions and a copy of my driver’s license, the receptionist unclipped her I.D. badge and said, “Follow me.”
She led me through several doors to the emergency room. The place hummed with activity. The layout reminded me of a wagon wheel. At the hub, a ring of desks sported several computer stations manned by doctors and nurses in earnest conversation. Rooms faced onto the hub, some open, some closed off by drawn curtains. Nurses threaded their way around the ER hub, ducking in and out of curtained-off rooms. My escort led me to one room and gently slid open the curtain. I thanked her and stepped inside. Momma lay unmoving, an oxygen cannula in her nose, EKG leads hooked to a monitor on a ring stand, an IV in her arm connected to a clear bag of fluid. She looked pale and small lying there. I stepped over to straighten her blankets when a young doctor pulled aside the curtain. “Are you Mrs. Carmichael’s daughter?”
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