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I ll see you in a half hour, Edna. Decker cut the line. They were about a hundred feet from unit J,
but there was no clear view of the front doors from where they had parked. You stay near the car,
Willy. I m going to move a little closer.
Are you crazy? We re naked in the wind.
I didn t say I was going to confront him. I just said I was going to move a little closer. Just stay
with the car. And if I get plugged, don t tell my wife how it happened.
Before Brubeck could protest, Decker was out of the automobile.
Sneaking up, he got within striking distance from unit J s front door.
Five minutes later, T came out, garbed in a plaid shirt, jeans, and scuffed leather boots, toting a
twelve-gauge shotgun. It looked like a Remington 1100 an old sucker, not at all state of the art. T
was a small guy, but sometimes that made an armed man especially dangerous.
The sheriff glanced around, then opened the Suburban s door and got inside. There was no visibility
through the windshield of the vehicle because of the glare from the sun, but T had made the tactical
error of not closing the driver s door. Decker crept around until the sheriff s arm came into view. He
waited until T had secured the gun into the rack, and then caught him by surprise.
Good morning, Sheriff, I m Lieutenant Decker from the LAPD.
T s head spun around, his hand instinctively reaching for the gun rack. Decker, anticipating the
move, caught T by the wrist, causing the car keys to drop to the floor. He said, Don t do that.
T s arm was in an awkward position. To break free, he would have had to wrench a socket. Are you
fucking insane?
No, I just don t want to get shot.
Then don t sneak up on a man, for Chrissakes! Let go of my arm or I ll throw your fucking ass in
jail.
Get out of the vehicle and we can talk about it.
I can t do nothin because you re holding on to my arm.
Decker eased him out of the car and let go of T s arm. Being almost a foot taller and a hundred
pounds heavier, it was clear who had the advantage. As the saying went, size mattered. A moment
later, Brubeck was at his side. You okay, sir?
Is he okay? T was shaking his arm up and down. Jackass nearly broke my wrist. What the fuck is
your problem?
I m not armed, Decker said. I like a level playing field.
Why the fuck would I shoot you? T s eyes were daggers. He was still shaking out his wrist. I
should throw your ass in jail. He suddenly noticed Brubeck. Willy, how could you let him do that to
me?
Sorry, T, but he s my boss.
He s crazy!
I don t deny that, T, but I got to work with him.
Decker took out his ID, but T swatted it to the ground. Why the fuck did you sneak up on me&
nearly gave me a heart attack.
I identified myself.
And that was supposed to impress me?
I m sorry, Sheriff, Decker said.
You re a fucking idiot.
Decker suppressed a smile but T caught it. Your supervisor will hear from me.
Why are you here? Decker asked him.
I live here, idiot!
I don t mean here in general, I mean at the Mendez house. You knew I was going to interview the
families. Is it just coincidence that you paid them a visit a half hour after I called you?
For the first time, T didn t curse him out. His eyes darted back toward the house, then at Decker s
face. Just get the fuck out of my jurisdiction before I bring you up on assault charges.
Are you going to do that before or after I bring you up on tampering-with-justice charges? Or
maybe the charges should actually be harboring a fugitive?
Fuck off. Again, his eyes involuntarily went to the door. You re insane. I m not harboring anyone.
There s an 02 Toyota Corolla that looks suspiciously like Rondo Martin s car. How long is it going to
take me to check the VIN number? When T didn t answer, Decker said, If you ve been giving
Rondo Martin a place to crash because you feel some kind of loyalty, hey, I ll turn a blind eye. All I
want is Rondo Martin, and you ve got to help me bring him to justice.
Don t mess yourself up for him, T, Brubeck said. Let s do it the easy way.
The sheriff shook his head. It isn t what you think. I ain t hiding no killer. He flapped his wrist up
and down. Shit, that smarts!
I m really sorry about your arm. I ll pay for any of your doctor bills
I don t need no doctor. I m no fucking wussy.
We need to go inside, Sheriff.
You don t understand a rat s ass.
So explain it to me.
T said, I dropped my keys in my car. On the ring is the lock to the gun rack. Take down the
shotgun if you want. I trust you won t use it on me.
I apologize for sneaking up on you. Decker held out his hand.
After a few seconds, T shook it. Give me a minute, then I ll come back outside. He nodded to
Brubeck. It still don t make him any less of a jackass. He stomped back.
Decker blew out air. I didn t handle that optimally.
No, you didn t, Brubeck said. I didn t want to say nothing, but what the fuck did you do that for?
Why didn t we just let him drive away and then go inside?
And let Rondo Martin mow us down? Maybe we were walking into a trap.
Then we still could be walking into a trap.
Decker said, Wait in T s Suburban, Willy. I ll call for you when it s safe.
I m not letting you go in alone, Brubeck said.
I m giving you an order.
You re crazy.
We ve already established that. If you hear shots firing, get the hell out of here. That s an order,
too.
Willy shook his head. You don t have to tell me twice.
THIRTY-ONE
LIKE T HAD said, it wasn t what Decker thought.
Rondo Martin lay atop a twin mattress placed on a wood/ dirt floor, his pale face bathed in sweat,
his torso enveloped in miles of bandages. The dressing seemed fresh, but something underneath
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