Whitman took a step back and reconsidered his next move. I felt like a used car. He was going to kick my tires and I was going to say something not very nice. I thought I should call Rusty and get a ride home.
“How old are you?” Whitman repeated.
“I’m out of here,” I said to Chase. “I’ll get a ride, no problem.”
“Cassidy, it’s six a.m. How are you going to get a ride back?”
“I’ll call, or I’ll walk. I don’t care. I’d do just about anything for you, Chase, but I won’t walk into a dangerous situation for someone who won’t even say ‘hello’ to me. If all I am to him is a person to plant in a school, he can find somebody else.”
Then I turned and walked out. It wasn’t like me to just walk out so I had to do it quickly and kept walking without looking back. Chase caught up with me.
“I know, he isn’t Mr. Tact but the problem is still there.”
“No he isn’t, he’s following us.”
Chase looked behind him while I kept walking. Problem was I had followed Chase coming in and I didn’t know the way out. I looked at the ends of the halls for exit signs.
“Cassidy, I’ve never seen you like this. Why are you doing this?”
“Because, my trouble radar is going off like crazy. I’ve nearly died enough times that I tend to listen to it. I don’t want some drug dealing high school kid to try and knock me off because I’m a cop. I’m not even a real cop. And we agreed a long time ago that I would never make it to cophood. So why all of a sudden is everyone trying to put me in that position? I’m going to go in there and say something wrong and the mob is going to come get me, shoot me and all I can do is hope they aim for my heart and don’t drop me off a pier because I finally got a Kevlar vest, and I think I could fake my way out but…”
“Cassidy, stop. Do you think I’d tell you about the job if I didn’t think you could do it? Do you think I’d have you do it if I thought it was dangerous? The only reason I brought you here is because you fit the job. You can do it and you’ll have backup.”
“Chase, I’m not a cop. The badge means nothing. Zip, zilch. I follow tracks. That’s what I do. I follow tracks until I find my man. That’s what I’m good at. I haven’t had a very good time of it lately, but I’ve found my man. Shit, where’s the punching bag in this place?”
He steered me through some double doors and there was the exercise room. I punched the bag, sending it rocking.
“Whitman’s in charge of this?”
“Yup.” Wham.
“I’m not working with Whitman.”
“So I see.”
“You think this is going to be like the Stan case, but it’s not.”
“Same mindset, different age group. Bet you weren’t a high school kid when Stan tried to pick you up.”
“It’s hard for me not to look like a high school kid.”
“What were you wearing?”
“Little black dress.”
“Ah, that would explain it.”
“Don’t get me thinking about the little black dress. I wore it to a funeral for a ten sixty-five.”
He went quiet, just holding the bag. He understood how tough it must have been for me since it was my first. The past year began bubbling, percolating in my mind. The kidnappings, the traps, being shot, beaten and attacked, all the tracking, the searches, the fire. What had I gotten myself into and what was I fixing to walk into now? Nobody knew. They were all bright and cheerful about it now, but how would it look if I stared down the barrel of a revolver or got dumped in the bay just for being a cop in the wrong place at the wrong time? And I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sneak off with Chase to do some foolhardy and dangerous stunt. I was a wife now and it was time to start behaving like a wife. I had Rusty to think of and Patrick to consider. I couldn’t go through with this without at least a phone call. I pulled out my cell phone and speed dialed Rusty.
He answered on the second ring alert for trouble. He was in cop mode.
“Cass?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
“What is it?”
“Are you awake? I need you.”
“Yeah, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing and everything.”
“Would you like to elaborate a little bit?”
“Chase and I discussed Patrick and it was a good talk. I know what to do now. But we ended up at the station and… And there’s a case going on that they would like some help with.”
The line went quiet.
“They say all I need to do is go to a school, pretend my dad is thinking of starting me there, and whine about my situation so a kid will sell me some drugs and get arrested. It sounds doable and straightforward but my trouble radar is going off like crazy. And I don’t like this guy who’s in charge at all, but maybe I’m just being biased. Chase isn’t pushing. He knows I have to decide for myself. I want to help, but this just feels all wrong so I thought I should call.”
“Tell Slick I’m going to bust his balls for even thinking of asking you to go on a narcotics bust. Then drag Chase back here by his overgrown ponytail so I can…”
“Rusty, no one is forcing me to do anything. But, what about the kids at the school? It doesn’t sound dangerous, but I want a partner I can trust and I don’t trust this guy.”
“Put Chase on.”
“I don’t think Whitman knows who I am. He just thinks I’m a reserve deputy who matches their requirements. But that brings up a question of rank.”
“Not until you are working on the case. As a volunteer, you have a choice until you place yourself under their command. After that, you have to follow orders. But to hell with that. I don’t care what’s happened. I want you out of there.”
Chase motioned for the phone.
“It’s not what it looks like,” he told Rusty. “This is a cushy school. Ten rich kids left at boarding school over the holidays. No weapons are allowed… I know that. We’re talking real cushy. Tennis courts, riding school. The cars in student parking are Porsches and Corvettes… If you come down here it’s going to be World War Three…” He snapped the phone closed. “He’s coming down here.”
Rusty knew San Diego well and that included the police station layout inside and out. He was standing there very cross and agitated within half an hour.
“Where is he?” he demanded.
“In his office,” Chase said.
Rusty looked me up and down. Curly hair, make-up.
“You knew. You knew when you left this morning that something was up. You let me think you were just talking to Chase and you were going to do a drug bust instead?”
He felt betrayed. I could see it. And I felt like a heel.
“I wanted to help but once we were here I knew I couldn’t walk into this without your knowledge. I’ll leave with you right now if you don’t want me to do it. If you think this is doable then you choose who I go with. What about Patrick?”
“Patrick was still asleep. When he wakes up Mom is going to let him help her make Mickey Mouse shaped waffles. You should have thought of that before you went out.”
“I did, we talked about it.”
He stalked off to Whitman’s office and I followed. Whitman had his pitch ready. Four guys in swat team black lined the room. On the whiteboard was a sketch of the first floor of the school. What Whitman hadn’t counted on was Rusty getting involved.
“What’re you doing here?” he snapped.
“You’re stuck with me, Slick.”
“And why is that?”
“When you involve my family, you involve me.”
Whitman looked alarmed.
“She’s…”
“My wife,” Rusty said bluntly.
Slick shot dagger looks towards Chase. I worried a little about a physical confrontation, but Slick turned back to the matter at hand and kept his cool.
“If she goes in, I go in,” Rusty demanded.
“You? You want to be her dad? How ironic.”
Whitman started writing names on the board. In one room he wrote Mo, in another room he wrote Gib. Then Mac, and Guss, ending with Slick in an office to the side.
“These are classrooms. You see your positions. This is the lobby and this is the cafeteria. If we can get down there before the kids eat breakfast, we can be in and out by lunchtime.”
Rusty approved of the men. I didn’t know who they were, but each name meant something to him. Slick tapped a picture posted on the whiteboard. “This is Shawn the Shark Martell. He chose the name Shark because Martell means ‘hammerer’. He thinks of himself like a hammerhead shark.”
“Great,” I mumbled, “now I’m shark bait.”
“Cassidy, is it?”
“Yeah,” I said, still suspicious of Whitman.
“You’ll be Cassandra today. I assume people shorten your name to Cass?”
“Not if they know what’s good for them. The people who shorten it have earned the right.” I was going to demand every ounce of respect I could drag out of this guy.
“Yes, well, if your new boyfriend happens to call you Cass, don’t slug him. We need him to follow through with this.”
“My new boyfriend?”
“I’ve heard this guy is quick. That works in our favor.”
“Your favor. What should I do if he makes advances?”
“Just do whatever comes naturally. You already have a boyfriend. Tell him that. Just don’t let him leave the school.”
“How am I supposed to stop him?”
“Lie, tell him your dad will be back in a few hours and if you’re not there he’ll be furious.”
I was getting cold feet and felt tempted to walk out again. I toughened myself up, deciding that cold feet were a sure sign of weakness.
“Here,” Slick said, handing me a wad of cash. “Put this in your wallet.”
“What?”
“How are you supposed to buy drugs if you don’t have money?”
“I have money,” I said.
“Not this kind of money. You want to be able to buy as much as he’s willing to sell you. Kids at this school have a thousand dollars to blow. Plus, these bills are all recorded. Only pay for his drugs with these bills so we can match them up afterwards. Let’s go.”
When we reached the parking lot, Slick tossed some car keys to Rusty. He pushed the button and the lights to a brand new Stingray flashed amongst the cars in the parking lot.
“I was looking forward to driving that. Take good care of it,” Slick said.
“At least I get to drive a classy car,” Rusty said as he opened the car door for me.
He drove in silence and I could feel the tension building between us. I decided the tension worked in my favor and would help in putting on this act. I was supposed to be stressed out and mad at my dad. Well, I was getting there.
“You know what you need to do?” he asked.
“Yeah, get him to sell me some drugs ASAP.”
“Don’t rush it or he’ll get suspicious. It has to flow naturally in the conversation.” He pulled a pin from his pocket and attached it to my shirt, letting his fingers linger a little. “It’s a bug. Take care of my girl out there.”
“I will.”
“Remember, I’m Dad, not Rusty. Dad. Got that?”
“Got it,” I answered grimly.
“And one more thing,” he added hesitantly.
“Yeah?”
“Hon, I need your wedding ring. You can’t be a married high school kid.”
We both stared down at the ring I’d chosen as a symbol of our union. I didn’t want to take it off, but I knew he was right. Just taking it off made me feel a hint of betrayal. I pressed it into his hand. He closed his hand around mine.
“Please, babe, make sure I get to put this back on,” he said.
“I will,” I answered quietly. “Today.”
It wasn’t going to require much acting to pull off this job. All I had to do was remember my lines. I felt like an emotional time bomb and it wouldn’t take much to set me off.
It was getting close to eight a.m. and I started wondering what Patrick was up to. I wanted a Mickey Mouse waffle with grape jam and a side of peanut butter myself, but knew I wouldn’t be getting one. Okay, Cass, think like a stubborn teenager. I sullenly followed Rusty through the big, wide, double doors and into a fancy lobby. It looked like a ritzy hotel. A crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room and double curved staircases spiraled down from the second floor. A girl sat on a sofa and a boy entered from a side door. They were still wearing school uniforms, even though they were on their Christmas break. A huge Christmas tree filled one end of the lobby. Under the tree there were several gifts professionally wrapped in department store paper and tied in bows. They were probably gifts from parents who hadn’t taken the time to wrap their own kids’ presents.
Shawn Martell came down the left staircase and instantly an icy feeling raced down my back. Even my toes felt cold. Cass, you really are a wimp. It was show time. I turned on Rusty, my dad, and angrily stomped my foot.
“I don’t want to live in San Diego!” I whined. “I don’t want to go to a fancy school!”
“You have to,” he replied calmly. “I’m not letting you stay on that god forsaken ranch to grow up to be a redneck. You’re going to be enrolled here to learn some class.”
I knew Rusty was only acting and giving me a history to work with, but his words made me angry and that helped my performance.
“I love the ranch!” I cried. “I want to go back. I don’t want to live in the city.”
“Stop it,” he scolded. “You’re making a scene. Just stay here for a few hours. That’s all I’m asking. Talk to the kids. Find out what they think of the school. Ask about the riding school. Maybe you can ride real horses here. Do dressage here, something classy.”
“Don’t leave me here,” I begged, knowing it would tear him up.
“It’s just for a few hours. You can have a good breakfast, talk to the kids. I’m going to the office to tell them you’re here, then I’m going to my office downtown to check my messages. I’ll be back in time for lunch. Be good,” he said and gave me a kiss on the cheek. He walked into the office where I imagined he threatened Slick to within an inch of his life if this backfired. Once he was out of earshot I let loose.
“Shit!” I said and kicked at the nearest piece of furniture. I looked helplessly in the direction where Rusty had disappeared.
“Better not let any of the staff hear you talk like that or you’ll be reprimanded,” Martell said.
“He just doesn’t get it. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to go to school here. I don’t care what you guys say about it. I want to go home.”
“Aw, come on,” he said, sizing me up. “You want to see the riding school? I’ll show you the riding school, the tennis courts and the indoor swimming pool.”
“You have an indoor swimming pool?”
“We have everything, we even have freedom. Don’t worry about being stuck here. The rules in this place are so lax. I only spend class time here, then I sign myself out and drive to town. And San Diego isn’t such a bad city. There’s lots of things to do here. I bet you’ll like it once you get used to it.”
His words were contrived. His little speech was all an act, too, but I followed along.
“What do you do for fun here? At home I hung out with friends. We partied. It was great. My mom got mad at me staying out all night but I didn’t get into any trouble. I just, you know… we were just having fun.”
The fact that I wouldn’t voice just how we were having fun allowed him to jump to his own conclusions.
“You ever experiment?”
“Not any more. I nearly died once, so I backed off from it. But that’s another reason I don’t want to move. Back home I knew the ins and outs. I knew where I could get what and here I don’t know anything. I’m going to go nuts. I can’t stay here.”
I paced back and forth acting antsy, looking for a way out. I pictured the guys listening to my performance and wondered what they thought about it. I didn’t know what I was doing and thought the subject came up awfully quick. I fought an impulse to run out the door and keep going until one of the cops picked me up. My toes still felt icy cold and my mind was racing a hundred miles an hour. I walked to the front windows looking for the Stingray, but it was gone. I realized it didn’t mean that Rusty had left. I knew he’d be around here somewhere.
“You want some fun and you’re supposed to have a look at the school? I’ll show you.”
“Isn’t it time for breakfast? You haven’t eaten yet,” I said, stalling.
“We’ll get breakfast in time. Come on.”
I followed him out the back doors of the lobby and down a short brick stairway to a parking garage under the building.
“This isn’t student parking,” I said. “My dad showed me student parking.”
“The teachers are all gone. So, I borrowed a spot. Nobody notices.”
“I can’t leave. My dad will be back in a few hours. If I’m not here he’ll call out the National Guard. He’ll sue the school for negligence. He’ll…”
“We’ll be back in a few hours. Your dad will never know.”
“You don’t know my dad. I won’t go.”
“You’ll stay out all night and sneak in but you won’t leave a school for two hours while he’s at his office banging his secretary?”
“He is not! How could you say a thing like that?”
“You’re cute when you’re riled. Get in the car.”
“No! Hell, I’m feeling bad. I can’t take this anymore.” I let my hands tremble.
He moved around to my side. I thought he was going to open the door and make me get in but he pinned me against the car then leaned in closer.
“Stop it!” I said, feeling even more like I was betraying my husband. I imagined him sitting tensely in the van listening. “I’ve taken self defense classes. You know the first thing they tell girls in self defense classes?”
“Yeah,” he answered, backing off.
“There you go, now I can get more leverage.”
He backed off some more, calculating the length of my legs.
“Okay, so you’re not ready to get it on. I can understand that. I’ll give you a few weeks.”
“I won’t be here in a few weeks, unless I can figure out a way to get my old lifestyle back. I need a source. I need friends. I need wheels.”
“I can help with some of that. You got cash? I got what you need. But not here. The walls have ears. That’s why I go to town after class. Get in the car, I’ll show you a source. I’ll help you with the wheels. I’ll be your best friend if you’ll let me. You have to let me.”
“Let you what?”
“You’ll see. First step, find the source. Come on. Do you trust me? I’ll have you back in time for your old man to pick you up.”
Oh, man! I was told not to leave, but to get to the drugs we had to leave the school. What do I do now? I couldn’t blow my cover. He’d kill me. I couldn’t leave the school, I’d lose all my backup! I had to trust him. To finish this assignment I had to trust him. And I had to keep the police informed. I became intensely thankful for the bug on my shirt. I tried to remember what it looked like. It must have resembled an ordinary pin of some kind.
“No,” I admitted, “I don’t trust you. You move too fast. I’m just supposed to talk to the kids at school. So, let’s go back inside. Let’s talk.”
“You don’t want to talk to them. They’ll tell you all about trigonometry and biology.”
“Why, are those classes interesting?”
“Just get in the car. I’ll show you what’s interesting.”
“How long have you had your license? My dad won’t let me go out with anybody who hasn’t had their license for at least six months. He said they need driving experience first.”
“I’ve got plenty of driving experience. This is my third car,” he said, opening the door on a black Carrera.
Great, like that was supposed to make me feel better. I could feel time slipping away. I had to be back by lunch. I needed to find the drugs. Okay, I’d stalled enough. I’d go. The police had plenty of time to see this coming. They’d be on our tail.
He drove around the school grounds, pointing out the tennis courts, the stables, the gym, then he took a service road out the back of the school and down a hill.
“Where are we going?” I asked nervously. “If my dad gets back and I’m not at the school…”
“I know, I know, he’ll call out the National Guard. We’re going to town. You can see that San Diego isn’t such a bad place.”
“I never thought of San Diego being such a hilly place,” I said, trying to hand out hints as we drove along. It helped a little that I was supposed to be unfamiliar with the city. I could ask lots of dumb questions.
He got on the freeway.
“I hate freeways,” I cringed. “We don’t have them where I come from. We get on a highway, but it’s nothing like this. I’ll never learn the freeways here. Which one is this?”
“This is the eight.”
I started reciting the names of the exits to myself. “I have to learn the city if I am going to get around. It seems huge. I doubt I’ll ever venture out on the freeway. I didn’t even have a freeway to practice on in driving school. Just a two lane highway.”
“So how long have you had your license?”
“Not long. I hate driving. If I had my choice I’d stick to horses.”
“But you have your license, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I have my license.”
“Can I see it?”
“No!” I exclaimed a bit too quickly. “I… hate the picture on it. I look like I’m on drugs or something.”
“Were you?”
“No! Not that time. I wouldn’t do drugs right before a driving test. I wanted to look serious on my driver’s license and my sister was trying to make me smile so the picture is awful.”
I looked in the rearview mirrors for a van or a Stingray or a patrol car, but I couldn’t see anything and I didn’t want to look too often.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a metal object. He flicked it and a sharp four-inch blade slid out.
“Shawn, put that thing away. You’re scaring me. Take me back to the school. Please, take me back.”
His look suddenly hardened.
“How did you know my name? I never told you my name.”
“Of course you did,” I said, nearly panicking. Did he? When? I couldn’t remember.
“Then, tell me, what’s yours? You never told me your name.”
“My name?” I decided the truth would work better just in case he got his hands on an ID. “My name is Cassidy.”
“How did you know my name?” he repeated harshly.
“You told it to me.”
“No…” he said, pausing for emphasis, “I didn’t. I guard my name very carefully.”
He flicked the knife blade in and out and I wanted to say, “Look Patrick, that’s what retractable means!” but I didn’t. Then I wondered if I’d ever see Patrick again.
“Show me your driver’s license,” Shawn demanded. “Better yet, empty your purse.”
“I don’t think I brought my driver’s license because I knew my dad would be driving. I didn’t need it.”
“Empty it anyway,” he said, holding the knife where he could easily jab it into my leg. I started emptying my purse, wishing I was a girly girl with lots of stuff to dump out of it. Checkbook, wallet, pen, a card reminding me to refill my birth control pills. He took the wallet, hefted it, then flipped it open.
“Twenty-six, you’re twenty-six? What are you? Some fucking cop? Tell me!” he shouted. He looked me over and finally noticed the pin. “Oh shit.” He ripped the pin off my shirt, rolled down his window and threw the bug out before stepping on the gas. The Carrera shot forward. He weaved in and out of cars on the freeway watching for a tail. “Damn it, Cassidy, you really screwed yourself good when you messed with me!”
“Getting rid of me isn’t going to solve your problem,” I said. “It only adds to it.”
“How many of them were there?”
“Six, that I know of. When it was just a drug problem, they only wanted to arrest you. Now that it’s become a kidnapping, they will shoot you. Turn it back into a drug problem if you want to live. At least that saves your skin. I don’t know where you were going and I can’t send them after you. I just came to San Diego to visit my in-laws. I got recruited for this because I look like a kid. I’m not even a real cop. I’m just qualified as one when they choose to use me. I’m really a housewife and tracker. I find missing people when they get lost in the woods.”
“You got kids?”
“Not yet, although my nephew came with us on this trip. He’s waiting for me at my in-law’s house. He’s only six.”
I was hoping to appeal to his sense of compassion, if he had any.
“Show me where he is.”
“No, I won’t allow you to use anyone else in this mess you’ve made for yourself. You’ve got to stop now and count your losses. Look on the bright side, you never showed me where the drugs are. You didn’t get caught with those. So far all you can be charged with is kidnapping and I’ll drop that if you let me go.”
“Would you shut the fuck up!” he yelled. “It’s Christmas Eve, all I want is a normal life. I get sent off to boarding school and what happens? I get forgotten there, so I try and make a life for myself on my own. I try to stick with school. I try to finish and some Barbie Doll cop comes along and screws it all up.”
“Actually, most people think I look like Skipper,” I interjected.
“Shit.”
“Why do you sell drugs if you’re trying to make a life for yourself? Drugs just mess up people’s lives. They are messing up yours. But you don’t have to let them. You can do better than that.”
“The hell I can. I didn’t have anything till I started selling. Now I can buy cars. I won’t have to have a job when I get out of school. Just keep dealing. It’s good money.”
“And a bad health risk. You’ll always be worried about the cops. This is just the beginning of your life with the police after you. You’ll either be running from them or in jail. Neither of those options sounds like much fun.”
“I suppose you have a better plan?”
Just keep him talking, Cass, you can talk your way out.
“What did you want to be when you started school? I’m sure you didn’t start school thinking you were going to sell drugs to the kids there.”
“I wanted to be something fast and dangerous, well, not really dangerous. Like, glamorous. I wanted to be like the cops on TV solving crimes or like firemen or ambulance workers. I wanted to be in the thick of things.”
“Those jobs aren’t nearly as glamorous as you think. I work with a lot of people like that. On the news you see all the lights and the uniforms, but do you ever actually notice the real people? Nobody does. They only see the glamorous side. If you want to be a cop, a fireman or even an ambulance driver, you’ve got to get out of this drug dealing before you’re arrested. You won’t become any of those things if you have a felony on your record. Right now you’re heading down a dead end street. You have to stop and turn around and choose a different way. You have to. Eventually. When you see the dead end, will you be seventeen? Twenty? Thirty? At seventeen, you still have a chance to make a good life for yourself, but every year you refuse to see the dead end, the harder it will be to turn your life around.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve been searching for what I want to be all my life. I’ve been a cowgirl. I really did grow up on a ranch, but I’m not a redneck, at least I don’t think people see me that way. Then I joined the Marines. I think that’s why I didn’t freak out when things turned ugly. For a while I was a widow. Now I’m a tracker. You might have seen me on TV. Remember the two people who were stuck in the mine right after the earthquake in LA?”
“Yeah, that was big news. Everybody was talking about it.”
“That was me and a little boy from Texas, named…”
“Trevor,” he interrupted. “Did you ever get married to that detective?”
“Yeah, I did, about five months ago.”
“He’s a detective, right?”
“Right.”
“So where is he when all this is going on? Why isn’t he tailing us right now?”
“Because you threw the bug away and lost him.”
He looked like he felt a little guilty about that. Here he had some guy’s wife and he was out there looking for her.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” I asked.
“Yes, and no. If I did I wouldn’t have put the moves on you. But there’s a girl I like.”
“How would you like it if some crazy high school kid took off with her and you didn’t know what his intentions were? What if you thought he might kill her? What would you do?”
“I’d kill him.”
“Then you might want to rethink your plan about what you’re going to do to me. My husband is a patient man, but you’re kind of trying his patience right now. What time is it?”
“About ten.”
“How about you take me back to the school?”
“I’ll get arrested and kicked out.”
“Then how about if you take me to the police station?”
“Then I’ll get arrested and I might get kicked out.”
“What if you just drop me off? You have no use for me. I have no use for you. We can just go our separate ways and then the police are left hanging again.”
“I wouldn’t be able to go back to the school.”
“Then what do you think you should do?”
“Aw, hell. Where are you staying?”
“At my in-law’s house.”
“Where’s that?”
“Hudson Road.”
He did a U-turn and headed west, then he got back on a freeway. I got lost. I didn’t know San Diego and started reading off exits again.
“What are you doing? You don’t have another bug on you, do you?”
“No, I really don’t know the city and it can’t hurt to know my way around.”
Once he exited the freeway I started recognizing streets again. He drove around and around and we read the street signs. After passing a street named Pizzaro Place I told him, “We’re closing in on it.”
Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a kid appeared on a bike. His eyes got big as he pictured himself plastered on the side of a black sports car. It was Patrick! Cody was on the curb, ready to help him avoid Mrs. Rathburn’s rosebushes. Shawn jabbed the brakes and jerked the wheel, bouncing into Mrs. Rathburn’s yard. Then Patrick jerked the handlebars, leaving a three foot long gash on the side of the Carrera. He went up Mrs. Rathburn’s driveway and into her poinsettia by the front door. Cody jumped out of the way and Mrs. Rathburn came out of the door wearing her housecoat and cursing up a storm. I opened the car door into the rosebushes and squeezed my way out. Shawn got out and surveyed the damage.
“Cody! Run home and call Rusty on his cell. Tell him we’re in Mrs. Rathburn’s rosebushes! Oh, and tell him not to worry, we’re fine.”
I ran over and picked Patrick up. “Pat! Are you okay buddy? I’m sorry about the car. Come on, show me you’re okay. Please, Patrick, please be okay.”
“Aunt Cassidy! What are you doing here?”
“Getting kidnapped. What are you doing?”
“Learning to ride a bike.”
Shawn was looking around as though he was contemplating making a break for it.
“Shawn, don’t even think about running. Believe it or not, I can catch you and take you down. So far you’re in minimal trouble. Don’t push it.”
Three police cars converged on Mrs. Rathburn’s yard. Officers jumped out, guns at the ready. We all stood around looking at them except for Shawn who was ready to run.
“It won’t work, Shawn. Just wait for Detective Whitman to get here,” I warned him.
“Aw, Slick,” one of the officers muttered under his breath. None of the men looked pleased.
Cody jogged down the hill then stood there, hands in pockets. “Cassidy, you don’t do anything halfway, do you? I told you that Mrs. Rathburn wouldn’t be happy with you.”
“I wasn’t driving!” I answered.
Cody looked the car over. “Can I?”
“No!”
Patrick piped up, “I missed the rosebushes. Does the flower tree count?”
“You don’t really have to crash into Mrs. Rathburn’s rosebushes to be part of the family,” Cody told him. “You can be an adopted nephew. Or a nephew-in-law.”
“Are all of you related?” one of the officers asked.
“Everybody except him,” Cody said, pointing to Shawn.
“How does he fit into this situation?” the officer asked.
“Ask Slick,” I replied.
“Do we have to?”
“Why don’t you start writing your traffic report?” I suggested.
The Stingray pulled up and Slick Whitman sauntered up. Then the surveillance van pulled up and Rusty jumped out. He looked at the Carrera, then at me and finally at Mrs. Rathburn’s rosebushes.
“It was an accident, I swear! Shawn was trying to take me home and Patrick appeared out of nowhere and Shawn went into the rosebushes trying to miss Patrick.”
“Shawn was taking you home. Just like that. He’s a drug dealing kidnapper and he was taking you home.”
“Yeah. I talked to him. He didn’t want to go back to the school and get kicked out. And he didn’t want to go to the station and get arrested. So he was taking me home. Then at least he’d avoid the kidnapping charge. And he never showed me where the drugs were or sold me any, so you can’t get him on that. About all you can pin on him is property damage. And I think the damage to the car is going to cost more than the damage to the yard.”
“Cassidy, how do you get into these things?” Rusty asked.
“You know exactly how I got into this one. If you haven’t figured it out, ask Chase. Where is Chase anyway?”
“He’ll be along shortly.”
Slick sauntered up. He was good at sauntering. Had it down pat. “I told you to stay at the school.”
“One, I did everything a high school girl could do without getting into a fist fight to stay at the school. Two, the drugs weren’t at the school. To get him on the drug charge required a trip to wherever they were being held. Three, I had no authorization to use force and I didn’t have a weapon along, anyway. Tell me how I was supposed to stay on school grounds.”
Slick considered it for a minute and finally gave up.
I remembered something. “Hey, Shawn, can I borrow your knife?”
“Yeah, why?”
“I want to show it to my nephew.” He handed over the stiletto. “Look, Patrick, this is what retractable means. See, it pops out, and then it pulls back. It retracts. Just like a mountain lion’s claws. If the handle curved it would still pop out and retract but it wouldn’t hurt the handle, just like claws don’t hurt the mountain lion.”
“Cool! Can I see it? I want one.”
“Sorry, Patrick,” Rusty said, “these are illegal street fighting knives. Cassidy, you didn’t disarm him after the accident?”
“No, I didn’t think of it as a weapon. I thought of it more as a teaching tool.”
“How did you get through the Marines and reserve academy without thinking of a stiletto as an illegal weapon?” Rusty asked.
“I thought we already agreed that I’ll never be a cop. I’m a tracker. When I see something, I see its uses, not the legalities of it. When I saw it, I immediately knew I could show Patrick what retractable meant. I was really excited to actually find an example to show him.”
“See why I was reluctant to get her involved?” Chase asked, turning to Slick.
Slick added, “She’s cute, but dangerous. Too bad she isn’t dangerous to anyone besides herself.”
My anger flared and I said, “You’re welcome to call me if you need a tracker. But don’t call me to be cute. If it involves following tracks on the ground, I haven’t lost a trail yet and can find your man without fouling up. I’m not a cop, I’ll never be a cop and I don’t want to be a cop. But I can track. I can even track Chase, spend a week on the trail, and live off the land if necessary, but I’m not a cop and I’m not cute.”
There, I wasn’t mad anymore. I’d had my say. However, I doubted they would call me because they had Chase.
“She’s still cute,” Slick said as I walked away.
“Hey, cutie,” Rusty said, and I almost didn’t turn around. I only did because it was Rusty calling. “I have something special to give you.”
With Shawn the Shark, all the officers, Cody, Patrick, and Mrs. Rathburn standing around I thought this wasn’t the place to be given something special, but I turned anyway. From his pocket he drew out my wedding ring, stepped forward, and slid it over my finger.
“Thanks for taking care of my girl,” he said. “I knew you could do it.”