The last day of July was hot and miserable. The air was still, desiccating, and stale. The only redeeming feature to the heat is that it succeeded in stripping most articles of clothing from nubile, young female tourists. The only redeeming feature was that most of those tourists were down the block by Jacinto's cart. MacFarland and Rufus crowded each other, trying to stay within the small circle of shade provided by one of the two umbrellas on MacFarland's cart.
"Rufus, how can you wear all those clothes in this heat?" asked MacFarland, staring at Rufus heavy pants, boots, shirt, and jacket.
"I gotta wear them, boss. Some punks found my hidey-hole the other day, an’ they trashed all my stuff. The valuable stuff, I gotta keep that with me now."
"Why don't you come live with me, Rufus? I could make some room."
"You mean in the lady cop's house? Oh, no, boss, she would never allow that! You remember how mad she got when I took a shower there."
"You did get mud and dirt all over the bathroom," admitted MacFarland. "But I'm sure we could work something out. Cyn is very reasonable."
"Are we still talking about the lady cop? Boss, she's not reasonable. She's tougher than any DI I ever met."
MacFarland remembered his Drill Instructors from his days at San Diego. Yeah, there were times when Pierson made some of the DI's he had seem almost loveable. Okay, maybe Rufus was right. "We could get our own apartment," suggested MacFarland.
"Boss, are you proposing to me?"
MacFarland stared blankly at Rufus. "No, I was just concerned about your safety."
"I'll be okay, boss. You don't gotta worry about me."
"Well, you do need another shower," said MacFarland finally.
Business continued to remain slow, except for the sales of cold drinks and water. "We're running out of soft drinks, boss," said Rufus.
MacFarland looked at his watch. It was nearly one o'clock. He wasn't sure he would be able to sell many hot dogs if he was out of cold drinks to serve with them. He considered calling it a day.
He was about to suggest that idea to Rufus when MacFarland's phone buzzed. He looked at the caller ID. It was Jerry Baker. He answered. "Hi Jerry, are you calling about Torres?"
Baker's voice sounded distracted. "No, I've got another problem."
"What's that?"
"Mason has skipped bail. Or at least I think he is going to."
"What are you talking about? What's he done?"
"As far as I can tell, he has fled the country."
MacFarland didn't say anything for a moment. He imagined Doug Baker sabotaging his brother's car, then driving it, knowing that it was a potential death trap. Would any sane person do that? No, not really, thought MacFarland. He continued with his mental dialogue. But if I had a million dollars sitting on the passenger seat right next to me, and I knew my car was rigged to fail, could I stage an accident? Yeah, I sure could.
"What are the details?"
"I tried to contact him this morning, but Bridgette Mason said that he had left. He got a ticket to Mexico. She even bought the damn ticket for him."
"Wasn't his passport confiscated when the judge set bail?"
"Never came up. He wasn't considered a flight risk. It's not like he's committed a capital crime or anything. I actually expected to get the charges dropped tomorrow, when he's supposed to be in court. Fat chance that'll happen. Now I'm out my five thousand for the bail."
"I'm sure Bridgette can cover that," mumbled MacFarland.
"Oh, you bet your bottom dollar that she will," said Baker angrily. "But I still need him back here in the States."
MacFarland laughed. "Sounds like you need a bounty hunter!"
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. "Yeah, I do."
MacFarland's smile faded. "What? You want me to go get him?"
"Yes, I would like that, Mac."
"Oh, Christ, I'm not a bounty hunter! I sell fucking hot dogs!"
"Mac, who else have I got? You know the kid, I know you have a passport. I checked with Pierson before I called you."
"You called Pierson?"
"I—uh—I was trying to find you. Thought you might be at home."
"Jerry, for a lawyer, you are a pathetic liar. I expected better of you."
"You expected a lawyer who doesn't lie?"
"No, I expected better lies. I can't go to Mexico. I don't have money for a ticket, I have a business to run. I don't even want to handle this case. I think Doug is guilty, for God's sake!"
"Doug is an idiot, I admit that," said Baker. "But I don't think he's guilty of anything, other than bad judgment. Bridgette said he was going down to save his brother and niece. It seems that whoever kidnapped Leslie has also gotten hold of Jack. Now the ransom demands are two million dollars."
"Yeah, I know. Doug told me yesterday. He asked me to go help rescue Jack and Leslie."
"I take it you said no."
"I told him he should talk to the police, but he said he couldn't do that. Then I told him to talk to you. He never contacted you?"
"No, he didn't. I don't think he would have listened to anything I said. Mac, I really do need your help."
"How many times do I have to tell you, Jerry, I don't like helping people who push drugs? Jack Mason, as far as I'm concerned, is a drug dealer. Doug Mason is a drug user. I don't want to help either of them."
"You're not helping them," said Baker quietly. "You're saving an eighteen year old girl. Do it for Leslie, Mac."
MacFarland was silent a moment, his breath heavy and pained. "You're a God damned prick, Baker, you know that?"
"Yeah, Mac, I know that. After all, I'm a lawyer, aren't I?"