“Oh, crap, I left Facebook on,” said Taos. The ding of the private message alerted him to this as they passed by the office he shared with Delano. “Let me just get out of it. No point in having boy scouts seeing these surfer girl profiles, chicks in bikinis.”
“No sense in having Bettina seeing that,” added Crispin, putting down his end of the ladder.
Taos was about to X out of Facebook, but he read the dialogue balloon first. It was some chick named Marilyn Munster, and she was saying some weird things to Taos.
Hope you’re happy now. Look up at Japanese lettering and you’ll see the shape of the Dog Star.
Taos quickly looked up Marilyn’s profile. He guessed he’d just blindly accepted her friend request, assuming she had something to do with wind surfing. The profile was just a skeleton one with a picture of her cat, no location. Taos X’d out of the program and didn’t think twice. Taos told Crispin about it but knew Crispin was barely listening. Crispin had bigger fish to fry than some whacked boardhead who was into astronomy wishing him well.
He would live to regret not having taken the surfer girl more seriously.
* * * *
“Some surfer chick telling me to look up at the Dog Star. Whatever. Some of those boardheads can get kind of woo-woo.”
Crispin was barely listening to Taos as they carried the ladder through the main showroom and into the range. All sixteen shooting lanes were jammed with the young men babbling, laughing, and ribbing each other about their shooting skills. Kids were standing in front of the shooting line before “clear” was called, milling about, and in general causing chaos.
Del said, “See that arrow up there by the Brave poster? I wouldn’t care, but little Mason here needs it back.”
“I screwed up,” Mason admitted sullenly.
They got the arrow out for Mason, who was being lectured by a guy Crispin presumed was his dad. They decided to leave the ladder there to speed things along with the next batch of ceiling arrows. Crispin didn’t pay much attention to the guy in the camo jacket, a mistake he would come to regret. His mind was so full of Bettina. He had memorized several paragraphs of flowery dialogue he would use to prepare Bettina for what was coming. Now he said to Taos, “Come with me. I want you to be there when I ask her. You’re like my best man, or second husband.”
“Wish we could both marry her,” said Taos. “Maybe we could move to Utah.”
“I think that’s plural wives,” Crispin pointed out as they returned to the main showroom. His palms were sweating. He didn’t want to hand Bettina a sweaty ring box.
“Whatever. All we can do is make a commitment to each other for life,” said Taos.
It was Taos who approached Bettina in the showroom. She was chatting with her partner, Park, Del’s handler. The Director of Public Works was telling them about some road improvements or other, while a guy Crispin knew as a mailman enthused eagerly about the new paving job.
“Bettina,” said Taos, touching her on the arm. “Sheriff Marwick’s got something important to ask you.”
It was unbelievable how nervous this was making Crispin. He could barely speak. “Yes.” His voice was thin and reedy. “Come out back, would you?”
Taos said under his breath, “Seriously? By the dumpsters?”
“Whatever,” Crispin mumbled.
“Sure,” said Bettina, and excused herself from her group.
Crispin wished he’d brought a bottle of water, his mouth was so dry. Was it ridiculous to have Taos come with him? Bettina might feel ganged up on. Her answer was in no way a given. She was a self-sufficient, hard-ass US marshal and there was really no benefit to her in marrying someone. What did she need security for? She had the security of the US Marshals Service behind her. But it would be helpful if whoever she married knew about her real undercover career, as Crispin already did. Some marshals never told their spouses what they did. They pretended to go into the office every day and sell insurance or something.
Taos was right—they did wind up by the dumpsters. Luckily an archery range didn’t have much rancid garbage, although the bin was full of chunks of crumbled sheetrock.
“What’s up, Crispin?
Worse than his sweaty hands and dry mouth, now Crispin’s stomach growled. He had been too nervous to eat any of the appetizers Taos had set out, stuffed mushrooms and Girl Scout cookies for the boys. He had to take Bettina’s hands with his clammy ones. “Bettina. I’m lucky enough to have something amazing in my life—you. You who chose me.”
He loved it when she looked shy like this.
He continued—so she couldn’t protest—”Now I have a partner who nourishes every aspect of my spirit. This is something I’ve wanted my entire life. You’re the world to me, Bettina. You’re my submissive. My hot tamale. My lover and my best friend. You’re a bossy tyrant, and a smexy spitfire.”
“That goes double for me,” Taos uttered, to back his friend up.
“Young missy, we’re on the same wavelength. We’re not perfect, and our lives aren’t free of complex hassles and clusterfucks. But life without you wouldn’t be—well, I don’t want to imagine it. You chose me to whisper into your ear, to guide you through the turmoil, to cuddle with you. And you’re willing to share all of this with Taos, our best friend.”
“And my lover, don’t forget.”
“Your lover, too. It’s a once in a lifetime connection, Bettina. And I wanted to ask if you’d do me the honor of making it a permanent connection. Will you marry me?”
He’d been wondering if he should get down on one knee. But at least he had the ring box to pull from his front pocket. He now displayed the dazzling, rich chocolate diamond to Bettina. If she’d had any hesitation before, she certainly wouldn’t now.
“Heavens to Murgatroyd,” Bettina whispered, but she did accept the box. When she looked up at Crispin her eyes were shining like a doll’s. “Shiznit, Sheriff Marwick. I don’t know what to say. I’m completely stunned.”
“Say yes,” Taos suggested. “Then this poor bastard can breathe again.”
But she didn’t say yes. “What about you, though, Taos? I’m not giving you up, not for the most righteous and drop-dead gorgeous sheriff on the planet.”
Crispin took control back. “You don’t have to, Bettina. Taos and I discussed it, obviously. Nothing will change, except you and I will be legally bound together. If you want children they could inherit my ranch.”
“Well…Okay, then. Yes. Yes!”
Crispin swept Bettina away in a giant bear hug. Getting hitched was just a symbolic way of telling the world they were committed to each other for the duration. It had never occurred to Crispin to make another attempt at wedded bliss after the disaster of Holly. But every day he’d spent with Bettina had brought up the subject in his heart. He would be proud to let everyone know Bettina Crenshaw was his wife. And if she was getting out of the protection business, there was no reason for people not to know she was also Taos’s lover. Now when she spent eight weeks at Camp Beauregard he’d feel safer.
He finally released her to plant a kiss on her mouth. Then Taos wanted in on the act. Crispin put the ring on her finger as Taos bent her over backward and smooched her. But when they came up for air and Crispin said, “Mrs. Marwick,” Taos had a new, strange look on his face. “What’s wrong?” Crispin asked.
“Something…” He stroked his new goatee and paced. “That girl who just messaged me. Marilyn Munster? That was the television show me and Del used to Facebook each other about, The Munsters. She said to look up at the Japanese lettering and see the Dog Star. It couldn’t be a sheer coincidence that Sirius is another word for the Dog Star.”
“Wait a minute,” said Bettina, holding out her glittering hand. “Who said this? When?”
Taos said, “Just now, on Facebook. I thought she was just some windsurfing groupie so I accepted her friend request a month ago or whatever. But The Munsters? The Dog Star? Can’t be a coincidence.”
“I agree,” said Crispi
n. “Let’s go look back at her message for clues.”
“I warned you not to Facebook,” Bettina snapped, back into handler mode.
But they weren’t even to the heavy outer door when Crispin held up a cautionary hand. “Wait. Japanese lettering, right? Look up, she said. When we just now pulled that arrow out of the ceiling, it was next to a poster for that animated film Brave. There was Japanese lettering on that poster.”
Taos’s hand was on the doorknob. He looked straight into Crispin’s eyes with terror. “Oh, shit.”
The explosives inside went off.
To Crispin, it was a giant booming sound and a sensation of a wave of air that knocked him off his feet. The crackling as timber exploded outward and the sounds of a million pieces of sheetrock, splintered wooden two-by-fours, and various twisted pieces of metal showered down around them.
Crispin instinctively grabbed Bettina and dragged her to the ground with him. He snatched a nearby piece of plywood and covered both of them as crap continued to rain down.
He had seen Taos get side-swiped by a big piece of the wall that hit him right in the chest, picking him up off his feet and flinging him somewhere.
Chapter Fifteen
“Where’s Taos?” Bettina shrieked.
The split second she determined that debris had ceased to rain down on them, she flung the plywood off and stood.
And saw a suspicious character watching the demolished building, gloating. Only mad terrorists who got a thrill out of this sort of destruction would be standing there, especially in a camo jacket, surveying the destruction with glee. Bettina cross-drew her Glock and yelled, “Freeze!”
The guy didn’t, making a shocked face of surprise. Maybe he hadn’t expected Bettina and her two men to be standing behind the building instead of inside of it. He took off hobbling over fallen beams and steaming, powdery piles of sheetrock. He stumbled a few times, but picked himself up and toddled off with sheetrock dust on his ass.
Bettina was no better. Months of training hadn’t taught her how to navigate giant twisted, caving piles of building debris with any more finesse than the mad bomber. As he was about to turn the corner onto the main drag—people were already running toward the explosion, cellphones glued to their ears as they presumably dialed 911—Bettina knew she couldn’t risk losing him. So she shot him.
She knew the concept of “just shooting a perp in the leg or wrist” to slow him down was a ridiculous notion. You had to mean it when you squeezed a trigger, be prepared to face the chance that you just might kill the guy. Hitting his arm or leg meant that you missed or were a bad shot. But never, ever purposefully attempt to make anything other than a kill shot. And the guy was bouncing up and down and sideways so severely, Bettina was lucky to hit any limb at all.
She got him somewhere, though, and he stumbled and fell like a zombie. Bettina staggered over the piles of rubble—much of the main structure was still standing, just the walls had been blown out—and she had nearly reached the prone guy when Taos caught up with her. His face was coated with sheetrock dust. “Bettina, what the fuck?”
“This is the guy,” she shouted. A red flower appeared on the shoulder of his camo jacket. “This is the bomber. Do you recognize him?”
She still had her piece at the ready in case the guy should bolt, and she was trying to turn him over to display his face. “Grab those cuffs off my belt. Hook one around his wrist. Yeah. Good.”
“Don’t recognize him.”
“What’s your name?” Bettina yelled. She knew he wouldn’t say a word, so she kicked him in the thigh bone with her boot. “Scumbag. Taos, I’m deputizing you. Dude, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
“Wait! I’m the marshal now?”
“Yes! In case of emergencies we can enlist any willing civilian as a deputy. You’re it, buddy. Crispin, Park and I have got to help pulling people out. Use this walkie-talkie—Crispin has the other one. Thanks!”
“But—”
“Finish reading him his rights! He has the right to a lawyer, blah blah! Oh, and keep a tight lid on this, will you? Half a dozen agencies will be here in ten minutes. Don’t say anything until we’ve gotten everyone out.”
The guy in the camo jacket helped out. “If I cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to represent me…”
Back by the dumpsters, Crispin had succeeded in getting the crumpled door off its hinges and had vanished inside. “Crispin!” Bettina bellowed down the hall. Sirens were already keening like melancholy coyote heading their way, but she needed to help get people out of there now. “Sheriff! Where are you?”
His voice came back dimly from somewhere in the rubble. “Crawling on hands and knees. The bomb was above the shooting lanes as we suspected—C-4 plastic most likely. It’s just too bad we didn’t heed that warning in time.”
“If you’re crawling on your stomach that means shit could fall on you at any minute.”
“It’s my job, Bettina. Del’s in there with those kids, not to mention the mayor and city manager and god knows how many others dead or crushed. Did you get that guy?”
“Got him. I deputized Taos to keep an eye on him.”
“Good. Keep Taos out of this mess. It’s bad enough so many are in here.”
Bettina could hear little boys wailing. She passed by what used to be Taos’s office, the computer smashed by a ceiling light bank. “Wait for me to catch up with you. We can work together maybe pulling some of this rubble out of the way.” But Bettina, too, had to crawl like a snake to reach Crispin. She reached his boot and tugged on it. “Can’t go any farther?”
“Not unless I can move this eight-inch beam.”
“Here.” Bettina tried to squiggle next to Crispin. “Give me your walkie-talkie. Taos is on the other end. Taos, come in, come in.”
It took their lover a few seconds to figure out which button to push. “Is this thing working?”
“Yeah. You get anything out of the prisoner? Who he is, where’d he set the charge?”
“He’s not talking, naturally. But I’ve got ways of making him talk.”
“Ooh.” Bettina frowned and shared a concerned glance with Crispin. As officers of the law, they weren’t supposed to have ways of making people talk.
Then Crispin shrugged at her, and she shrugged back. Taos wasn’t an officer of the law. He could do whatever he wanted, especially to a guy who had just blown up his casino and archery range. “Stand by,” she told Taos.
“Okay, I think if we both push on this beam, we might move it,” said Crispin.
They tried. And they tried. Crispin even took his Glock from his duty belt—for once he’d dressed officially for Taos’s official grand opening—and shoved with the leverage from that. Nothing.
“Anyone there?” Bettina yelled. “Help!”
When Crispin joined in the yelling, a few guys heard them. Shuffling feet came running—so they knew the hallway beyond them was clear—and three men, one who sounded like the Director of Public Works, dragged the beam out of the way so Bettina and Crispin could squirm free.
“What’s the status in there?” asked Bettina breathlessly. “Anyone dead?”
“We don’t know,” said the Director of Public Works, Rod something. “But there’s a buttload of boy scouts trapped in there screaming, as you can hear.”
“And no one can get in, obviously. Where’s my cousin, Park?”
Rod shrugged. “He was right here in the store area when it blew. Then I didn’t see him anymore.”
Frantic now, Bettina strode about the ruin of the bow showroom. Bows were scattered like pickup sticks, but only part of the roof and wall had been blown in here. The screaming kids were behind the intact load-bearing wall that separated this room from the range, and the entryway was now a seven-foot-high stack of rubble.
Taos broke in again on the walkie-talkie. “Bettina, the prisoner is secure with Crispin’s partner. We’re coming in the fr
ont way. We can get some kids out this way. I’ve already helped three of them out.”
“Did you get anything out of the prisoner? He was the only person not bugging out. Seemed overly interested in the explosion.”
“Yeah.” Bettina could hear Taos’s disgust over the radio. “Sirius sent him. He’s an explosives expert like Sirius, a mercenary. He put some C-4 up by the Brave poster on the cross-beam with a remote detonator so he could get out and watch the show, hoping to kill me. Oh, and he doesn’t like being shot or having his nose broken by, ah, a flying metal bow rack.”
Bettina had to chuckle at that. “Yes, bow racks are dangerous. Anyone DOA?”
“Not yet. We were pretty lucky, or he was pretty incompetent.”
“You got Del?”
“Del’s just got a broken arm, we think. He’s still helping with kids.”
“And no Park?”
“No Park.”
Bettina spoke to the sheriff. “Crispin. I’ve got a feeling Park must be somewhere around here. He wasn’t out back with us, he wasn’t in the range with Del and the kids. He’s got to be somewhere around here!”
“I agree.”
A fluorescent ceiling light fixture that had been hanging by one wire suddenly had had enough, and crashed to the ground. It plunged the showroom into worse darkness, as there were no windows to the outside world.
“Shiznit!” Bettina shouted angrily. “Park! Park! Where are you? What’s your location?” She yelled without her cell phone, and then she yelled into her cell phone when she got Park’s voice mail. They heard no responding ring tone when Park was dialed. Crispin radioed to his partner, Deputy Montoya, who was ostensibly outside, asking if Park had been seen. Nothing.
Anxiety rose in Bettina’s throat. Two of the three men who had helped move the beam to get them out had gone back outside via the rubble tunnel, leaving Bettina with Crispin and Rod.
Owner of a Lonely Heart (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 15
