Chapter Two

“I’m calling off Melody’s wedding,” Henry, Miles’ father announced as they sat in the holding cell waiting to be formally charged.

“I think mama and MeMaw will have a few issues with that choice. Mel might too,” Miles retorted.

“How is Sunshine not in here with us right now?” his father reasoned. “If your uncle and I could move fast enough that young rodeo clown should have.”

“From what I saw, he was protecting Mel and MeMaw,” Miles replied.

“MeMaw got shot. Now, if Sunny would have taken a bullet for her, maybe I could understand him not catchin’ up to us. Monty had his new bride and baby to worry about, but Sunny should have been there.”

“Awe, let up on the boy,” Uncle Clevon grumbled from the bench across from them. His salted hair exposed since their hats had all been taken before they were tossed in the cell. A few years older than Henry, Clevon showed it with his weathered skin and wrinkles around his eyes. The age came more from his wife’s passing from cancer than hard living. “Sunny ain’t done nothin’ but love your daughter. Shit, the boy is building her a house by hand.”

“Cuz he can’t afford more. It’s going up piece by piece, like the damn Jamaicans do it. Who knows when he’ll have enough money to finish it?”

“At least, he’s moving out, instead of trying to kick you out.” Uncle Clevon sighed. “Damn Walter thinks he owns my house. Shifting people here and there. Popping out kids and demanding another room.” He dusted off his smooth black jeans, formal wear and all. “Your kids are runnin’ for the hills. Bet you money, Monty’s gonna be building something, somewhere on the edge of the property. We’re gonna look like a damn commune soon. JT is my only boy who isn’t still sucking on the teat of the Long Ranch.”

“You want us all gone?” Miles asked thinking they’d all been raised so they would never leave.

“It’s not like when it was just Henry and I. Last thing we thought about when we started spittin’ out kids was the logistics of the whole thing. Shit, there ain’t never been more than two heirs to the Long Ranch when it came down to it. Guess you being locked up is a good thing. Hell, we got more kids than stock now.”

“Tina heard back from Desert Electric Cooperative,” Miles said.

“DEC? Have they been in business for more than five minutes?” Henry scoffed.

The whole turn the ranch into a solar farm was going over great with these two. Not that Miles could blame them. He’d been raised a cowboy for almost thirty-four years, he could only imagine how shocking the switch was for the men with almost six decades of ranching. “We’ll bring the experience then,” Miles mediated.

“Of what? Basking in the sun and working on my tan?” Clevon mocked and elbowed his brother.

The two mahogany skinned men roared with laughter.

“Killing two men sure puts you guys in good spirits,” a jailer said as he unsheathed a pair of handcuffs. “Miles Long.”

Miles stood and came to the bars. There was a rectangular opening and the jailer held the handcuffs open on the other side like Miles did this so often, he knew he should put his arms through. Complying, the jailer locked his wrists together. Cold steel shocked his skin before pinching it. When he slid the bars open, Miles stepped out. He felt like he was abandoning his family, even though there was only two other men waiting in the cell and they didn’t look very intimidating, still they shouldn’t be in there alone.

“Come on.” The jailer tugged him down the hallway where he was escorted into an interrogation room straight out of a cop drama. Two way mirror, single table with a chair on either side made of airplane grade aluminum. A camera in the corner with a bright red light hummed… or maybe it was the florescent light in the ceiling. Either way, they could be on a Hollywood set.

Miles assumed this would be the sweat it out part as the clock on the wall ticked loudly. Depravation tactics. How soon before he was counting each tick as if it were his own heart. Tell-Tale Heart maybe…would he go crazy like Poe? He didn’t know if his bullet was the fatal one or the ones his other family members shot, since two men were dead, but he did know there was no way they knew this soon.

Tick, tick, tick… screech.

The door opened and two men walked in.

The first was straight from central casting. City detective, Hispanic since they were in New Mexico, wearing an outdated print tie and button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The tat on his inner forearm told that this side of the law hadn’t been his first path. Easily in his fifties, he had a few streaks of gray through his jet black hair. The other man was harder to place. He too, had darker hair, but it was slicked back and he wasn’t as at ease in the room as the detective.

“I’m Detective Eilal Najera.” The Hispanic detective sat across from Miles. “This is ADA Hamilton Boyle. Now, the arresting officers said you confessed to killing both men.”

Miles stared at the detective then looked over to the prosecutor.

“We just need you to sign your confession.”

“That it? Then I go to jail for what, ten years?” Miles asked tamping down his nerves as he played a chess match he wasn’t ready for.

“Not quite,” the ADA said. “This is a capital offense.”

The door swung open again, as another suited and booted man came in.

The ADA tried to stay strong, but Miles could read his nerves across the room.

“Talking to a Mirandized suspect without his attorney,” the man stated.

Detective Najera shifted in his seat.

“Wait… you did Mirandize him right?”

“We were getting there,” Detective Najera said. “It’s a bit crazy out there.”

“I know the DA’s office is in a bit of turmoil right now Hamilton, but that’s day one of criminal law. How about you give him the spiel, then step out.” He pointed to the corner. “And let’s go ahead and shut that off too.”

Miles turned to see a small box with a red light glowing. How had he missed the standard room decorations? Guess he needed to read a few more recent detective novels instead of Holmes. Detective Najera gave Miles his Miranda rights, then exited, but were caught by his attorney. “Oh, Eilal, that confession, you might as well shred that and save the taxpayers my motion to suppress. And don’t forget to stop by the holding cell and repeat yourself to the other Longs in custody.”

Miles sat silently as the attorney opened his briefcase and settled in with a notepad and pen across from him. “I’m Jason Whitmore, your sister-in-law retained my services for you.” Jason was about Miles’ age with straw colored hair fanned back. Unlike ADA Boyle who might have been creating diamonds in his ass crack, Jason was cool and relaxed in his linen suit. “I’ve known Harper for years, good to see she finally found a man who could keep up with her. Now, why were you being shot at?”

“You don’t care if I did it or not?”

“I know you did. Your dumb ass confessed on the courthouse steps. Can’t get rid of that.”

“But you said—”

“ADA Boyle is a moron and not one for capital cases, he might actually destroy the confession. This is chess not checkers. I know what I’m doing and who I’m dealing with. If it were Harper out there I’d be groveling for mercy. Instead, we have a man who’s trying to prove something. My only hope is to out think him. Deck’s stacked in my favor at least.”

“How much has Harper told you?” Miles asked.

“Very little, but I know about her being run off the road and being intimidated.”

“Same people, actually it might be one of the men involved.”

“Yahir Acosta was identified as one of the victims.”

“How is he a victim when we were being shot at?”

“Good point and one I’ll raise at trial. Right now, I just need to get you released. Since it’s almost five, you’ll have to spend at least one night in jail. Nothing I can do about that. They’ll take you down after I’m done talking to you, your father and uncle.” He tapped his pen on his notepad. “Tell me all about the wedding.”

Miles recounted the last few months at the Long Ranch, Harper’s investigation that led to the arrests earlier that day and how they’d been standing on the steps of the courthouse taking pictures when he heard the pops. His stomach clenched as he saw the faces of his family, some recognizing the noise, others stood unsure about what was happening. Monty had asked him to bring his gun. It’s not like his father didn’t keep a piece on him at all times when not on the ranch, so he wouldn’t be alone checking his gun at the front door of the courthouse. He’d barely gotten it tucked away when they left and he heard the first pops.

Nessa, his baby cousin, was the first face he’d seen. Only four-years-old in her flower girl dress, the white lace spinning as she impatiently waited her turn. Her carob eyes widened and she froze. His cousin, Walt pulled her to the ground and her face blanched then she exploded with tears and screams.

Then Miles didn’t think at all when he took off after the four-door sedan. He’d seen the flashes from their windows. Adrenaline rushed through his body and he didn’t even feel his legs as he rushed through the city. “I don’t know how far I was from the courthouse when I saw them slow down because a truck had been backing out. I just shot.”

“And your father, where was he?”

“He must have been by me because I heard the pops on either side of me. I had tunnel vision.”

“How good of a shot are you?”

“I’m not gonna split a fly’s ass hairs from fifty feet, but at twenty five, I might.”

“How far away was the car?”

Miles tried to remember, but he couldn’t. The weight of the gun in his hand he registered. The kick from the recoil. His ears rushed as he closed his eyes and tried to go back to that place and time. Tires squealed as they took a corner too quick, followed by a woman’s scream, the sound of the rim hitting the curb and popping off the tire. Air was fresh once he got through the smoke left from the bullets leaving the gun. He had pulled the trigger. His shoulder was still sore from shooting one handed. There was no stopping his motion as he ran toward the vehicle.

Yahir had stared at him. Shaved head with tattoos covering his neck and crawling up the side of his face until his black eyes went from menacing to closed, his body flew back toward the driver. Was it from the puff of smoke at the end of his revolver? “I don’t know. It happened really fast.”

“Okay, let me review everything and we’re set to appear before the judge at ten tomorrow morning, until then you’ll be in county custody. I’m going to be talking with the press to make sure they spin it our way.”

“What’s our way?”

“You’re a hero. Vigilante justice that only had the attackers as victims.” Jason tossed his pad and files into his briefcase then closed it. “You’re heroes doing what the cops couldn’t. They were a turn away from being on the interstate while the police were still scrambling. You saved an ADA’s life. You and their shooting skills that are one level below a storm trooper, but we’re going with you.”

“What about my dad and uncle?”

“Really, it comes down to the ballistics. They’re doing the autopsy right now and we’ll see what they pull out of him.” Jason extended his hand.

Suddenly, Miles was brought back to his reality quickly as he shook Jason’s hand with two of his because he was still handcuffed. “What are the chances I’ll have to spend the rest of my life in jail?”

“Not the rest of your life. Manslaughter is the highest charge I can see them charging you with. With good behavior, you’d be out in five years.”

Why did that not comfort Miles in the slightest? One night, maybe two sure, but five years? Naw, he couldn’t do that. He’d been defending his family that had to count for something.

“Timing is everything. The elected DA has been indicted on charges and is out, so he won’t be making any big decisions.”

Jason left and the cordial jailer returned with a hard tug to Miles’ handcuffs.

* * * *

Ashleigh was torn.

Hamilton stormed in the lieutenant’s office. Furious that his confession would be thrown out. “Get me the case law to keep it in,” he barked at Ashleigh who had to wipe away the spittle that sprinkled her. “Why didn’t your officers Mirandize him the moment he was thrown in cuffs?”

“Look, it was a crazy scene, their first inclination was to get it under control,” the lieutenant retorted. “The last thing they expected was a confession.”

“Ashleigh,” Hamilton began.

Now, she had to give up her loyalty for Harper.

“No judge is going to throw it out. It was an excited utterance. The police were transporting Miles Long, not interrogating him. Now whatever was said in the room with Detective Najera is another story.”

“He didn’t say anything in there.”

“Good,” Ashleigh replied. “Because then, you’d be the reason it wasn’t admitted. You know, since you were in the room.” She hopped off of the lieutenant’s desk and headed for the door. “I’ll see if Jason is done with Miles and give him the bad news. That being said, we’ll need to interview him at some point with Jason and get his side of things.”

“I know that,” Hamilton griped. “I went to law school, not community college.”

Ashleigh cut her eyes at him. Had she not just figured out in two seconds that Jason Whitmore was bluffing and that Hamilton was a moron? Law school had only been out of the question because of Sierra and still, she might be able to go now that they have online classes. God knows, she could pass the bar now without question. “I’m going to let you have that one, Hamilton.” She glanced over at the Lieutenant who looked happy to not be on Hamilton’s hit list, although she wondered why. Harper could take him out in two seconds. “Harper will need an update.”

“You can’t discuss this with her,” Hamilton barked. “I don’t care what she told you, this is not her case and she has to stay away from it.”

“So you don’t want me to tell her that the confession stands?”

“Oh.” Hamilton looked a bit rebuffed. “Well—yes—you can do that.”

“Like I need your approval,” she muttered under her breath as she walked out of the office. Checking her phone for the time, she knew she would need to call her sister. “Hey Sierra,” she said when she picked up. “I’ll be a little late tonight.”

“How late?” she asked in her innocent voice that gave away her Downs Syndrome even over the phone.

“Hour max. Will you be okay?”

“Yes,” she whined. At twenty-one her sister had graduated high school and worked almost full time at the Panera a few blocks from their apartment. Evening was when she had trouble. She needed structure and lots of it. If Ashleigh wasn’t going to be home before six at night, she needed to call. By eight, she would need to call in a sitter.

She loved her sister and had since she’d been born, even when her parents didn’t. They stayed in the picture enough for Sierra until Ashleigh turned eighteen and could take on guardianship, then they disappeared. Although it was hard on Ash, she’d had years to prepare for it. Her parents would take trips for a month at a time, leaving her to deal with her disabled sister. The growing pains they tolerated from Ashleigh were a burden from Sierra.

“What are the rules?” Ashleigh asked.

“No cooking, no going out and no answering the door.”

“Good. How about I grab you some tacos from Del Taco Especial?”

“No fish.”

“No fish, I know.” Ashleigh glanced over at Harper who was being held by her husband on a bench and knew she needed to finish this up first. “I’ll try to be home before seven.”

“Good, because iCarly’s on then.”

“Got it saved,” she said. “Be safe on the walk home.”

“Geez, it’s only a few blocks.”

“Too long for me. Love you Sierra.”

“Love you too.”

Ashleigh walked over to her friend and her husband. “Bail hearing is in the morning.”

“Jason told us.”

“I should be in there too,” Montgomery Long said. “I can’t believe Miles ran his mouth like that.”

“It was his wedding present to us,” Harper said as she patted Monty’s hand.

“About that,” Ashleigh confessed. “Hamilton was going all rabid dog in there, so I helped him figure out how to keep the confession in.”

“Judas,” Harper snarled.

“No, the confession is the least of your problems. Hamilton is trying to turn this into first degree murder.”

“How the hell—?”

“I’ve got it covered,” Ashleigh assured her. “Don’t worry. I’m working on the inside. Tonight should be the only night Miles spends in jail.”

“And my dad?”

“Should be the same. Now, let me get back to prepping ole dumb ass on bail hearings.”

The door to the interrogation room opened down the hall and Jason came out first, followed by Miles Long. Ashleigh didn’t remember him from trial prep and she knew she would have. He had a roughness to him that Monty didn’t. Not violence, but a hard outer shell. His jaw was tight and when his coffee colored eyes caught hers, she held her breath. Biting the inside of her lip, she tamped down the jolt she felt, not knowing if it was attraction or fear. He admitted he’d killed someone and no matter what Harper said, only a certain type of man was willing to take another’s life.

With a white button down shirt strained a bit at his biceps. Trim, but firm and she suspected…cut too, just based on his line of work. A rancher, better yet a cowboy, who showed it in his idea of formal wear: black jeans and boots. Somewhere a hat was in custody that would complete the look.

“We’ve got you tomorrow morning first thing,” Monty said as Miles walked past.

His cologne hit her. Damned, if her eyes didn’t flutter a bit until she turned and saw his tight ass.

Killer, she reminded herself and men weren’t in the cards for her. Not when she still had to raise her sister. She’d tried and failed a few times in the past. Now, she satisfied her sexual needs with one-night-stands because anything more was too much for guys. Even the ones older than her. It was one thing to take on a kid, another when they had a lifelong disability that meant never moving out.

* * * *

If nothing else, the last thing Miles got to see before being booked and tossed into an orange jumpsuit was a hot woman. He didn’t know who his brother was talking to when he’d been escorted by, but the blonde had curves he could focus on for the night. He’d been stuck in a cell with two other guys who decided peacocking was the way to show power.

His uncle strode in with his blanket and plastic pillow about five minutes in and cleared his throat. “Not in my room,” he growled. “I’ve had enough shit from enough people today. The last thing I need is your pussy asses in here for a DUI or some such shit to fuck up my time at the county’s expense.”

“Who you think you are pops?”

Clevon’s hand went around the taller one’s throat as he slammed him up against the cement wall.

“What’s goin’ on in here?” a guard asked as he stood in the doorway.

“Just decoratin’ the wall. Not sure if he matches the décor though.” Clevon released the man who gasped a few times before retreating to his bottom bunk across the room.

“Keep it civil.”

“Wouldn’t know another way to live.” Clevon dumped the bedding on the open bottom bunk and looked at Miles. “I’m not sleepin’ topside.”

“Right Unc,” he replied and moved his stuff up.

“MeMaw’s doin’ good. Pissin’ off the medical staff and threatenin’ to take the cane and stick it up…well, you know your grandma.”

“You all related?” their genius of an attacker asked.

“No.” Clevon shook his head. “He just calls me uncle because we’re black, so we’re all related. Fuckin’ morons. Here’s the deal. You’re either here for some petty shit or waiting on trial. Either way, deep meaningful conversation isn’t gonna be part of our stay here. Comprende?”

The men grumbled as they left the main cell. Hopefully, they’d stay away until lights out when Miles assumed they had to be locked away. With two bunk beds against the back wall and four feet between them. It wasn’t big enough for four people. Then a metal toilet, sink, and four small cabinets the size you’d see in a bus depot. Miles prayed his lawyer wasn’t lying. He was used to stepping outside whenever he needed fresh air. This room didn’t even have a window. The door was open, but he knew soon, it would be closed. This room was smaller than the bathrooms in his house. Say what you want, but the Long’s were a privileged group. He knew it. Although he worked the land, he also enjoyed its bounty.

“You think they have a library?” he asked his uncle.

“Probably, but you ain’t getting in it tonight. We missed dinner too. I think they lock us in around nine and we’re done until morning, so you’ll just have to escape another way.”

Miles climbed up on his bunk and closed his eyes. Books had been his escape his whole life. When he didn’t want to work or needed to get away, he would grab one and disappear somewhere on the ranch. As long as he made it home before the sun set, he was good. The avid reader in him would have to come up with his own characters and that wasn’t his forte. Left to his own devices, he tended to get lost in bad memories and that was the last thing he needed.

 

Angel Salazar had a reputation at Tender Root High. Miles knew it, everyone knew it, but he’d never judged a person by what others said. He judged them by his interaction with them.

“Tell me something Miles,” Angel said as she flipped her long black hair to one side and the sunlight streamed through to make her tanned skin glow. “Have you had a year without a study hall?”

“I’ve never had a study hall,” he replied meekly. “I’m only in here because we have a sub and it was too loud in the classroom for me to read.”

Angel’s eyes blinked a few times as she tried to process what he said.

“Mr. Washington thinks I can’t handle it.”

On the table was a slip of paper and the catalog for classes offered. Angel was filling out her class requests for the next year. Mr. Washington was more like a dream killer than guidance counselor. His mother had put him in his place when he said college might not be in Miles’ future. There was no question if Miles would go to college, it was the where in question. Mr. Washington couldn’t see past the ranch when he looked at the Longs. Obviously, he didn’t know they all had degrees. Even MeMaw had earned one when women didn’t get degrees, let alone black women.

“What classes does he have you taking?”

“Is there a choice?” Angel asked. “I thought we all basically took the same classes. History, math, English.”

“There are levels. Honors and such,” Miles explained.

“Washington would never let me take honors.”

“He wouldn’t let me either at first. Funny, they decide what we’re capable of based on our parents.” Washington had even tried to put Miles in a class for those who would be the first in his family to go to college. It integrated community college propaganda. That conversation with his mother brought out her inner Lynn Whitfield. Class with a bit of ‘fuck you’ right behind it.

“Then I’m screwed. Don’t know my dad and my mom works at the Discount Mart.”

“Here.” Miles snagged her schedule and the course book that was more of an oversized pamphlet. “What do you want to do when you grow up?”

Angel let out a small laugh then caught herself. “Seriously? No one ever asked that.”

“Well, it’s the first thing a guidance counselor should ask. How else would you know if you should be taking chemistry or Kirkman’s literature course?”

“What are you taking?”

“It’s about you, not me,” he replied even though he would love to have her sitting next to him next year in lit.

“Fine, but it’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid?”

“I thought about being a nurse or something.”

“Then you do need chemistry.” He scanned through the catalog and wrote out the code. “How did you fair in Bio this year?”

They spent the better part of the hour figuring out a schedule that would help her get into college. A track he’d been on his entire life, so it wasn’t hard for him to plot out for Angel.

When the bell rang, she took the registration card and gave him a little smirk. “Any chance you’re free this weekend?”

“There could be.”

Their relationship, if you could call it that, wasn’t sexualized at first. With him, she could have been a preacher’s daughter, not the wild one, but the one who wears soft cardigans and sun dresses. She didn’t know how to be with him because his first instinct wasn’t to get in her panties. They talked for hours. His family picked on him daily. Even his brother Monty who was down in junior high knew Angel’s reputation.

“Isn’t she your girlfriend?” Walt asked with a nod down the hall as he pulled books out of his locker.

Miles turned to see Angel standing in a circle of guys.

“You can’t turn a ho into a housewife. You know that right? Bet you money, if I call her she’ll come over to me.” Walt closed his locker and leaned against it. “How about you have to take my chores for a week?”

Miles tasted the bile rising in his throat as he watched Angel laughing in a group of guys.

“Angel,” Miles called out, attempting to do it the way Walt usually did to get his girlfriends to snap to. He received a half-hearted wave before she headed off to her class.

“And you’ve been sleeping with her exclusively for how long now?” Walt asked Miles as he pushed off and went to his own class pulling a girl from a conversation and tucking her under his arm before calling back to Miles, “Might need to wake up an extra hour early tomorrow.”

After school, Angel bounded up to him as he stood by his truck. “You gonna give me a ride home?”

Miles scanned the girl he’d fallen for. Fallen hard for, even though all signs had pointed to heartbreak. Her finger glided up and down his arm and scorched his skin. No longer willing to sit on the sidelines, he cupped her cheek with his hand and tilted her head back. Capturing her lips in a way he hadn’t in the past. He wanted her to be his and his alone. He’d thought he had made that more than clear. Now, he marked her. In front of God and everyone, he did what the guys who’d screwed her and moved on had never done.

“Why did you do that?” she asked when they broke from the kiss.

“You’re mine.”

“I’m no ones.” Angel pulled away. “I’ll find another ride home.”

Miles felt his chest caving in on him as she hopped into the front seat of a senior’s car. He’d treated her special and she spit on him. He held her, laughed with her and gave her soft gentle kisses. Angel had told him her dreams and he didn’t dismiss them like the others. Still, it wasn’t enough. As a Long, it was nice to have someone not fawning all over him. A pedigree afforded him by generations of hard work that made his family the wealthiest landowners in the county. Top five in the state. That made him a catch, but Angel had been the first one to not ask him to take her out. Pay for dinner at a place fancier than Good Eats.

After Angel, no one could touch him. He dated for the sole purpose of bedding a girl. Never again, would he be boo-boo the fool.

 

The lights flicked on and Miles jumped from his thoughts. A few moments later, a buzz was followed by a click echoing through the small room. He hadn’t slept much even with his uncle on the bunk below. He was jumpy and not sure if he was safe, let alone his family and his family came first. Right now, that’s what he needed to focus on. Federated Gas had unleashed thugs on his brother’s wedding… who knew if their ranch was still safe.

“Unc,” he called.

“I’m still here.” Miles heard his uncle’s feet hit the ground. “Our roomies stayed on their side of the room. Let’s get some food. Our hearing is in a few hours.”