A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1) - Darynda Jones Page 0,30
her inability to remember Quincy was any indication. “And?”
“He’s trying to get control of her estate.”
“Myrtle’s estate? How big can it be?”
He leaned against the wall. “I don’t know if you know this, but those Book Babes went in together and invested in a little company a few decades ago.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “Which little company?”
“Well, I’ll give you a hint. Their logo is an apple.”
“Oh, holy shit.”
He opened the door for her. “Yeah.”
She stopped him again. “Wait, even my mom?”
“Your mom and dad invested first, then the Book Babes pooled their resources when they saw how well your parents did and bought in pretty early, too.”
“How do you know this and I don’t?”
“Because I used to work for said former sheriff. You hear things.”
“So, are they all rich?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Let’s just say they won’t be hurting for money any time soon.”
“Wow. Who knew?”
Quincy and Sun walked into the station like they owned the place, Quincy because he could and Sun because she was ready to take on some marshals. At least she was until she saw them.
Or, well, him.
“Sheriff Vicram.” A slim woman with short black hair, large eyes, and elfin-high cheekbones walked up with hand extended.
Beside her stood her male counterpart with skin as dark as midnight and a startlingly attractive face.
Sun took the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you. This is Chief Deputy Quincy Cooper.”
She shook both their hands. “Nice to meet you. I’m Deputy Marshal Isabella Batista. This is my partner, Deputy Marshal Vincent Deleon. Hopefully, we’ll be out of your hair in no time.” When Sun looked in her office, more specifically at the box sitting on her desk, Marshal Batista laughed softly. “Don’t worry. We aren’t moving in. Do you mind?”
She gestured toward Sun’s office, the one she hadn’t even unpacked yet, and started toward it.
“I’m sure you’re aware that the pen recently lost a few prisoners,” she said when Quincy closed the door behind him.
Deleon took the box off her desk and sat it on a shelf while they spoke.
Sun nodded, taking her chair. “I am. Five inmates took over a transport van and put the guards in the hospital. Four of the fugitives have been recovered.”
“Exactly.” She handed a file to Sun and sat in one of the visitor chairs someone had supplied since that morning. The label on it read Rojas, Ramses followed by his inmate number. “We received a call from one of your residents.” She scanned her notes. “A Douglas Pettyfer.”
Quincy, who’d leaned against a wall by the window, coughed softly into a closed fist.
“Yeah,” Sun said, suddenly very uncomfortable. “Doug isn’t exactly the best witness in these types of situations.”
“We figured that out over the phone,” Deleon said, offering Sun a humorous smile. “But his description was spot-on.”
“Really?” she asked, surprised. “And you’re certain he didn’t just see Rojas on television?”
Batista handed her a photo. “This is the picture we have streaming.”
The police photograph showed a kid in his early twenties. Shaved head. Slightly crooked nose, probably broken at some point. And every available inch of skin on his arms and hands covered in tats.
“Okay,” she said, waiting for the rest.
“That was taken when he was first arrested.” She handed her a second photo. “This is his latest photo, compliments of the state pen.”
Same face, though thinner. Harder. His hair was a little longer, and he sported a scar that sliced perpendicular through his right eyebrow as well as a couple more tats, a feat she wouldn’t have thought possible mere seconds ago.
“And Doug knew about the scar?”
The marshal nodded. “He described it perfectly. Said he saw him out by the lake.”
Her lake? That was disturbing AF.
“We just can’t figure out why he’s here,” Deleon said.
Batista confirmed with a nod. “There is a Rojas family in the area, but they don’t seem to be any relation. If someone is helping him, it’s not a blood relative. Not that we know of, anyway.”
“Any known associates in the area?” Quincy asked.
“None that we can find.”
“Can I keep these?” Sun asked, handing the photos to Quincy.
Batista nodded. “Of course. We just wanted to check in, see if you’d received any reports of sightings or anything unusual.”
“Not that I know of, but I’ve only been on the job for a little over three hours.”
“You’ve had a busy morning,” Deleon said.
“Yes, I have.”
“The missing girl,” Batista said. “Any chance our guy took her? Is maybe holding her hostage?”
Sun had considered that the minute they’d shown up at her station. If Sybil