The Territory A Novel - By Tricia Fields Page 0,74
squad car with the air-conditioning blowing on her face and stared at her front door for a long time. It wasn’t fear so much as dread. The smell of smoke and gunpowder and the image of the guns pointed at Dillon’s chest, at her face, would stay with her for many years to come. The spray of debris, the shattered glass, splintered pieces of wood trim and pockmarked walls awaited her. The sick knowledge that these men had come into her life with their guns and ruined her chance at a normal, loving relationship made her breathless and light-headed. Blood rushed to her head, and she gripped her steering wheel and let herself cry, the silent tears eventually giving way to sobs for the pathetic excuse of a life she was leading.
Eventually, cried out, she entered her house and found Chester asleep on the kitchen floor beside his dog dish. She had called Dell the night before and arranged for the dog to stay at Dell’s house. Dell called her cell phone that morning and said Chester had whined all night until Dell brought him home that morning. She knelt beside Chester and buried her face in his neck and talked to him, grateful for his big, brown, nonjudgmental eyes. He’d been through hell, too, and she felt lousy for leaving him the night before. One more living being to let down, she thought.
She gave Chester a hot dog out of the refrigerator and fresh water, and then let him out to run. She gathered broom and dustpan and the large plastic garbage can from outside. As she walked down the hallway, she heard a car pull into the driveway and felt her pulse race. She dropped the broom and pulled the gun out of her ankle holster, then looked through the crack in the living room curtain to find Otto and his wife, Delores, getting out of their car and walking up the front path.
Otto and Delores were both dressed in jeans and T-shirts. Even when Otto was out of his uniform, Josie rarely saw the sixty-year-old in anything but dress pants and button-down shirt or Delores in anything but print dresses. Otto carried a large duffel bag and a home-baked pie. When Josie opened the door, Delores came at her, smiling, with both arms extended. She pulled Josie against her soft body and spoke quietly into her ear about how good it was to see her safe and how she had a bed ready with fresh sheets for her.
“We’ll get your place cleaned up like new, and you can pack a bag and move in tonight. No excuses or fussing. This is the way it’s going to be,” Delores said.
“Dell called this morning and said he would come down this afternoon and patch the plaster in the walls from the bullet holes. It looks pretty bad right now,” Josie said.
Josie took the pie into the kitchen as Delores wandered back into the bedroom with her bag of cleaning supplies. Otto motioned to the couch and Josie sat down. She noticed him staring at her and she realized how bad she must look. She hadn’t showered since the day before, and her eyes and nose were still red and swollen.
“You holding up okay?” Otto asked.
She shrugged and smiled. The answer was obvious.
“Dillon called me. He said you were staying by yourself at Manny’s. I told him not to worry, that I had plans to cart you home with me.”
“Let me ask you something. If I were a man, would we be having this same conversation?”
“Absolutely. Except I would probably tell you to quit acting like a hero, to pack your bags, and get your ass over to the house. I can turn up the language if it makes you feel any better.”
She smiled and tipped her head to acknowledge his point.
“So you’ll come with us?”
“I’m worried about tonight,” she said. “It’s not about having a place to stay; it’s about what’s going to happen with the Medranos. I don’t think the mayor understands the magnitude of what’s happening. I’ve called him twice today about the prisoner transfer. He told me he was working on it the first time. When I called back, he claimed Monday is the earliest he could arrange it.”
“Which probably means two days from now, once the paperwork gets jammed up some bureaucrat’s hind end. Who’s taking the prisoners?”
“Houston. The federal detention center takes pretrial inmates. Moss has supposedly arranged everything, but I don’t know if