Bitch: Puncture (book 2)

I think I dozed off watching the curtains rustle in the breeze. I didn’t know exactly how long she was inside, but the moment Arlene was outside the bus I was fully awake, and I could hear two other male voices. I listened barely breathing.

“Well thank you ma’am, if you hear anything else you’ll be sure to let us know.” Said a younger voice.

“That’s quite a rig you got there,” said gravel voiced older Sheriff patting the side of the bus, and trying look in the windows.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I practically swallowed my tongue and held my breath.

“Are you all right Sheriff?” asked Arlene.

“Yep, I’m good. Say you wouldn’t mind if we take a look in your RV for a minute would you?” he said reaching for the door, his hand clicked the first part of the latch in expectation.

“Sheriff, I voluntarily came back here at your deputies request, to do my part to help you out with your cold case investigation. Unless you are charging me with some sort of crime, I do not consent to random warrant-less searches of my person or property.” Way to go Arlene. Her time protesting the establishment informed her more fully of her rights.

“As I told you we’re a little Sheriff’s office in a tiny little town. We’re not all about that big city lawyer talk. Why should it matter if you don’t have anything to hide? You don’t have anything to hide in there do you?” persisted the Sheriff testing the door handle experimentally.

“How many times have your deputies gone through your desk at work? Or better yet gone through your drawers at your house? Have any porn you don’t want your wife to see? This here is my house and having uninvited guests would be a bit like having a stranger put their hands down your pants, so unless you have some legitimate reason that you think will hold up in court to suspect me of some crime, the answer is still NO. I do not consent to any searches. And as a frequent protester I have many friends in the legal profession who would like nothing better than to sue you and your little Sheriff’s office back into the stone age. False arrest, false imprisonment, harassment, entrapment, human rights violations, and you’ll be selling those nice shiny new sheriff cars to pay it all off,” said Arlene.

“Only guilty people worry about stuff like that,” grumped the Sheriff.

“Perhaps you like other people putting their hands down your pants? So, am I being detained? Charged with a crime? Am I free to go?” she was maintaining her calm.

He hacked a deep smokers cough and spat. “Fine fine, you don’t have to get all Hollywood on me. We were just having a conversation. No reason to make a mountain out of a mole hill. So where ya’ headed now?” He finished conversationally.

“Am I being detained? If so, what are you charging me with?” Arlene was cool as a cucumber now. He had lost control of the situation.

“I’m not charging you. Man I hate older women, you’re all a bunch of dried up man hating old biddies.” In a huff the Sheriff stalked back to the office and banged the door open on his way inside.

“Thank you ma’am. That was very entertaining... But you know, he’s going to take it out on me now.” Said the deputy with a smile in his voice.

“That man gives me the creeps. No two ways about it.”

“Yes, ma’am, my girlfriend doesn’t like him much either. She say’s he’s a dirty cop but then she says all of them are, especially the tribal ones. I think she might be a little racist. Then again three months ago we were the local liaison for a interstate drug sting, which nabbed the tribal police chief’s brother. Yeah, that Indian police chief you just met inside, well, his brother got himself caught up in a federal drug sting. He claimed he was working undercover as a civilian informant, and his brother’s police department backed his story, retroactively if you ask me. And since this area seems to be exploding with new meth labs we will probably catch him again. When the economy takes a turn like it has, sometimes good people do desperate things.”

“You sound like a very rational, ethical young man. I know you’ll make a good Sheriff one day.” Arlene said.

“I am very curious about you though. We’ve heard nothing on this case for almost two years and suddenly you show up out of the blue asking questions, like you know something. Something we don’t know or maybe something we’ve missed. Now I agree, the Sheriff can be a jerk, and he seems rather touchy about this case in particular, but he’s right that there is something about you, that is just... hinky. I’m just trying to suss out your angle on all of this. Are you a reporter, do you have an inside source that gave you information?” He was very frank and matter of fact.

I swallowed - I’d heard the rest, but it just didn’t make sense. Two years? Had I been gone that long?

“Hinky, huh? Haven’t heard that one in awhile and it always makes me chuckle as it seems a little... ‘cutsey’ for a man to say it? Well, I have written an article or two in my day, and yes I met someone who told me a story about the girl, who disappeared. She showed me an Alex James story on the web. And so far what she told me has been true, but her story also had some pretty big holes in it. I need more information. I have even more questions, but it’s very hard to uh, talk with her.” Arlene was being as honest as she could.

“Hmmm... well I’m not going to lie and say that my curiosity isn’t leaping like a cotton tail through the high grass. I’d love to talk to this ‘someone’ of yours.”

“Yeah, you and me both. You know a journalist can never reveal their sources. I’ll tell you what deputy, I will try to contact her again and see if she is up for talking with you. I can’t promise anything. And I’m not sure what she’d be able to tell you that you don’t already know, but I will leave that up to her to decide.”

“Much obliged ma’am. Here take my card, that’s my cell, you call me day or night. Drive safe.”

His boots crunched on the gravel as he headed back inside.

The RV door swung open, a shaft of sunlight stabbed in, and Arlene stepped inside shutting it behind her. She went straight to the mini fridge without looking at me. Apoc was looking at her too. She opened another beer and took a long pull. She glanced up and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Ok, look,” she started quietly, “I think we need help. I didn’t get a chance to ask you first, but I’ve got a good feeling about the deputy. He’s a little green, but I sincerely believe that he wants to do the right thing. I already decided that I’ll go to the library in town, in case they are watching and I’ll log into my email and send a request to some bogus email to carry the story out.” She downed the rest of the beer.

Apoc looked at me, blankly. Again, I wondered how much he understood.

I looked at Arlene, she was looking at me expectantly. Apparently I needed to give her the go ahead. I nodded and she turned and walked out the door. I heard the can crunch on the sidewalk and clink into a trash can. I looked through the curtains again. I saw her walking up the street. A average looking man in jeans and a plaid over shirt had been sitting on a bench reading in front of the hardware store next to the police station, but now he got to his feet and wandered slowly after her.