The Territory A Novel - By Tricia Fields Page 0,47
County Jail for murdering his uncle in broad daylight at our Trauma Unit.”
Fallow’s face turned white and his lips curled down. He looked as if he might vomit.
“These are some bad fellows that old Red was dealing with, Dr. Fallow. I don’t think you want to mess with these guys.”
Fallow looked up suddenly, his eyes bright and teary. “Who says I’m messing with them! I don’t know these men. That was Red’s business! Go talk to Hack Bloster if you want details. I want no part of this.” He clapped his hands together as if the topic were closed.
Otto didn’t move. “Go ahead and look at that last photo. That’s a picture of a police officer that pissed one of those other fellows off. Notice his head is gone? It’s in the trash can to the right of the body. Don’t think you can clap your hands and this will go away.”
Fallow leaned forward and stared at the picture in his hands.
“We suspect these individuals killed Red Goff. We’re taking the position that anyone associated with the Gunners is in grave danger.”
“This is so unfair. I did nothing wrong.”
Otto cleared his throat. “Mr. Fallow, I need to know who Red was working with.”
He looked up, his eyes pleading. “I swear to you, I don’t know. I’m pretty sure he and Hack were trading guns. That’s all I know, and that’s a guess on my part. They never allowed me into their private meetings.”
* * *
At 6:35 P.M., Josie, Otto, and Marta met at the police department to discuss findings before Josie and Otto logged off. Sheriff Martínez had stopped by to ask about the prisoner’s connection to La Bestia, and they all stood in the lobby area talking by the dispatcher’s station. Josie was explaining to the sheriff everything they’d discovered with a worried eye on her watch. She had twenty minutes to drive home, change, and get water on to boil before Dillon arrived for dinner and a bottle of wine she had promised and not purchased. She needed a private, sit-down talk with Martínez about Deputy Bloster, but it would have to wait.
Josie’s back was to the entrance door, but she heard the bell ring as they wrapped up. She turned and watched a petite woman with dyed maroon hair, red lips, and red fingernails enter the department.
“Well, if it isn’t the elusive Josie Gray,” the woman said. She spoke with a heavy drinker’s rasp.
Josie gave the other three officers a look and said she would check in with them later. Mercifully, they apparently understood that whatever was about to transpire was personal and, most likely, humiliating. Otto and Marta turned and walked toward the upstairs office. The sheriff walked around the woman, who turned and watched him exit the building.
“That man’s got a backside worth watching, now. All these cops you run around with that good looking?” she asked, winking and smiling widely at Josie.
Josie felt her face redden. She was very aware that Lou was still at the dispatcher’s desk, listening to every word and most likely taking notes.
Josie pushed the door open, and then walked behind her mom into the evening heat. She felt her hands go sweaty and her stomach seize into a knot: the same physical reaction her mother had been producing in her through years of humiliating scenes. Her body had instantly recalled and replicated the physical sensations of fifteen years ago.
With distaste, Josie watched the flex of her mother’s tight back muscles through an open-back halter top and the intentional sway of her rear end. Her five-foot-five mother could paralyze her like no robber, rapist, or drug dealer she had ever encountered, and the realization depressed the hell out of her.
Her mother struck a cocky pose on the sidewalk and looked Josie over as if assessing the damage after a car crash. “You didn’t think I’d come, did you? You ought to know, if I say it, I do it.”
Josie could have laughed or cried in equal measure. Her mother had never followed through on anything unless it benefited her in a significant and personal way.
“I had no idea you were coming. If I’d known, I would have set time aside. I have plans tonight. And I can’t cancel,” Josie said. “We can have dinner tomorrow.”
“So break the plans. I drive two thousand miles, and you can’t show me a little courtesy?” Her mother shook her head, her eyes wide with exaggerated shock. “You’re a piece a work.”