Colorado 03 Lady Luck (56 page)

Arnold Fuller, Chief of Police.

And more, beyond him was not only Officer
Frank but also Detective Chace Fucking Keaton.

Shit. Shit. Fuck!

I moved to the door, hoping I was schooling
my features.

Then I opened it and my eyes darted between
the men, hoping I looked surprised and curious.

“Uh, hi. Can I help you?” I asked.

“Does Tyrell Walker reside here?” Ty’s
parole officer asked.

“Yes, this is Ty’s home. I’m Ty’s wife,
Lexie.” I looked at Fuller then Frank and back to Ty’s parole
officer before I whispered, “Is Ty okay?”

“Yes,” I heard Samuel say from close behind
me, “is Ty all right?”

“And you are?” Ty’s parole officer
asked.

“Samuel Sterling, a friend of the
family.”

“Right,” Fuller muttered and I watched Ty’s
parole officer twist instantly to throw him a glare.

Then he turned back and looked at me. “Mrs.
Walker, I’m Jamarr Gifford. I’m your husband’s parole officer.
We’re here to perform a random inspection of your home. This is
normal procedure for parolees, as I suspect you know.”

I nodded, stepped back and hit Samuel who
didn’t move so stopped but spoke. “Yes, I knew this could happen.
Ty told me.”

“That might be so,” I heard Samuel say from
behind me and I twisted my neck to look up at him, “but wouldn’t
such an inspection occur when Mr. Walker was in attendance?”

“We –” Jamarr Gifford started.

“Perhaps you should return when Ty is back,”
Samuel suggested.

“No,” I cut in when I felt the vibe change
and not in a good way. I turned back to the door. “It’s okay. You
can do it now. But, can Samuel and Deke and I stay while you do
this? We won’t get in your way.”

“Of course, Mrs. Walker,” Jamarr Gifford
said, stepping in and the men behind him came in with him, fanning
out. “We’ll do our best to complete this quickly,” his eyes went to
Fuller and he finished on what sounded like a warning, “and without
disruption or disorder.”

“Okay, well, go for it,” I invited then
said, “And you can call me Lexie.”

Jamarr Gifford’s eyes came to me, he did a
quick top-to-toe then nodded, all business. Then he turned and
nodded to Officer Frank and Keaton and he and those two men moved
forward.

Fuller planted his feet apart, his arms
crossed on his chest and glared at me.

I pressed my lips together.

Samuel did not. “Are you not participating
in the inspection?” he asked Fuller.

“I’m the Chief of Police,” Fuller
answered.

Samuel didn’t miss a beat. “Is it protocol
for the Chief of Police to attend a random inspection such as
this?”

Fuller’s face twisted as he replied, “It’s
protocol for the Chief of Police to do whatever he wants, includin’
makin’ sure this shit ain’t no farce,” he paused and his eyes
moved, I followed them and saw he was looking at Gifford. “Seein’
that it’s all in the family,” he concluded, his point not even
slightly vague.

“Right,” Samuel whispered, his anger not
even slightly hidden. Then he asked, “Can I have your name?”

“What?” Fuller bit out.

“
Can I…” Samuel paused, “have…” another
pause… “your
name?
”

Fuller rocked back on his heels on a
stubborn, good ole boy, “Nope.”

“Arnold Fuller,” Deke piped in and I
swallowed back a hysterical giggle.

“Thank you,” Samuel said to Deke then his
hand came to my waist lightly and he murmured, “Lexie, why don’t
you come back, finish your soda. Okay?”

I looked up to him, nodded then moved back
to the island.

Then I sipped my soda as men moved about my
house inspecting things.

Five minutes later, I watched Keaton come
down the stairs, round the railing and stop five feet from the
island.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Walker, but there’s a safe
upstairs I’ll need you to open.”

I nodded, put my drink down and moved.
Samuel started to move with me, I stopped and said softly, “It’s
okay, Samuel. Ty has nothing to hide.”

He gave me a close look, nodded and settled
back on his stool.

I led Detective Keaton back up to the
safe, trying hard not to feel creeped out that this man was in our
bedroom
and
in our
closet and hoping he didn’t paw through my underwear
drawer.

I knelt down in front of the safe and opened
it for him, getting back to my feet and stepping out of his way. He
crouched in front of it and reached in.

Then, I didn’t know why, but I spoke.

“Detective Keaton,” I called, his head
tipped back and his not at all unattractive blue eyes locked on
mine. And when they did, I knew why I spoke.

Because his eyes were haunted.

“I…” I started on a whisper then softly went
on, “suspect you know that Misty wasn’t my favorite person.” His
eyes flashed then shuttered and I hurried on. “But even so, I’m
sorry. It was a shock to hear what happened to her. She didn’t
deserve that. No one does. I met her once and she…” I trailed off
then forged on, “I’m sorry, really, really sorry for your
loss.”

He stared at me.

Then his neck bent and I pulled in breath
wishing I kept my mouth shut.

I was about to leave him to it when he
pulled out one of my jewelry boxes and asked, “You work at the
salon?”

“I, uh… yes. I work at the salon.”

I watched him open the cardboard box, pull
out the jewelry box in it and flip it open then he fingered my
earrings.

Then he said in a voice so soft, I could
convince myself I didn’t hear it, “Then I suspect you know that my
wife was not my favorite person either.”

Oh my God.

I held my breath.

He flipped my earrings closed, replaced them
in the box, put the lid on and placed it back in the safe, pulling
out another one, going through the same motions as with my
earrings, unveiling my necklace and as he inspected my necklace he
went on in that same super quiet voice.

“But even so, I’m sorry that happened to
her.” Pause then even quieter, “She didn’t deserve that.”

He stared at my necklace, his thumb moving
over the diamonds in an absentminded way that I knew he wasn’t even
seeing them.

“Are you…” I whispered. “Are you okay?”

“Walker always took care of his women,” he
murmured instead of answering, still thumbing my necklace and I
held my breath again. Then I jumped when he snapped the lid closed.
“Good that he finally has one who deserves it.”

I stared, stunned silent and immobile while
he replaced the box and shut the door to the safe. Then he stood,
taller than me, my head tipped back and he moved so he was in the
closet door. He looked across our bedroom to the staircase then he
looked back at me.

Then he said in that super quiet voice,
“Shit will go down, Lexie, it’s gotten ugly and it’s gonna get
uglier. But do not be alarmed. Frank and I will take care of you
and Walker.”

I blinked, now stunned silent, immobile and
thinking I might be in the throes of a coronary but he said no
more, moved through the bedroom and at the top of the stairs he
shouted, “Got nothin’.”

“All good here, too.” I heard Frank shout
back as Keaton jogged down the stairs.

Then I ran after him.

I hit the downstairs after Keaton and Frank
did, rounded the railing and stopped dead.

And I did this because Tate, Laurie, Bubba,
Krystal and Jim-Billy were all in our kitchen. I was so absorbed in
what was happening in the closet, I didn’t hear them come in.

Jim-Billy pulled his head out of my fridge,
looked at me, gave me a broken smile and said in a way like he was
reminding me of something I knew but, of course, I didn’t, “Thanks
for the invite, girl. Like any time I can get my beer without
payin’ for it.”

“Right, like you pay your tab,” Krystal
muttered loudly, crossing her arms on her ample bosom and rolling
her eyes to the ceiling.

Jim-Billy closed the door on the fridge
(with a beer in his hand, incidentally), and turned to Krystal.

“I do,” he said.

“Yeah, once a year,” she shot back.

“Well, I still do,” Jim-Billy returned.

“And you expect a discount,” she
retorted.

“Anyone would, seein’ as I order in
bulk.”

I giggled.

“We’re done here, Mrs. Walker,” Gifford
called to me, Officer Frank and Keaton were already standing with
him at the backdoor. “We appreciate your cooperation.”

“Lexie,” I told him, moving toward the
kitchen.

“You are not fuckin’ done,” Fuller snapped
and I stopped moving.

Gifford looked to him and asked, “Your boys
said all’s good and I didn’t find anything.”

“Gifford,” Fuller clipped, throwing out an
arm, “there’s alcohol right in front of your face.”

“That’s not a condition of Walker’s parole,”
Gifford returned and Fuller’s eyebrows shot up.

“What?” he bit out.

“
Tyrell Walker, even after repeated tests
on remand and during his incarceration, never tested positive for
drugs
or
alcohol. He
has no history of problems with either or evidence of use of the
former. Alcohol is only prohibited for those parolees who have an
addiction or past incidents where alcohol was a factor.”

Fuller’s lips twisted, he leaned slightly to
Gifford and clipped, “That’s bullshit.”

“It isn’t,” Gifford returned with restrained
patience.

“Never heard of a parolee allowed to have
alcohol,” Fuller retorted.

“
Lucky for you this is not a highly
populated county like Denver and lucky for you your patch is even
smaller so you don’t have a lot of experience but it isn’t unheard
of for a parolee to be allowed alcohol and Tyrell Walker is one of
them. He was a model prisoner, he earned benefits due to good
behavior, his parole was recommended by the warden, his
rehabilitation counselor
and
the
guards and I personally inspected this home for its suitability for
his occupation prior to his release. All was in order then, as I
told you before your visit to my office this morning, and you have
two of your own boys here, as requested, and it’s all in order now.
So we’re done and we’re leaving,” Gifford replied.

“
Then maybe I
will
have a look around,” Fuller shot back, Gifford’s
back shot straight and the entire room went on
hyper-alert.

But it was Tate who spoke and all he said
was, “Arnie.”

Fuller’s eyes cut to him and he snapped,
“What?”

Tate didn’t reply; he just held Fuller’s
eyes. They went into stare down and I again found myself holding my
breath.

Then the garage door could be heard cranking
up.

My eyes flashed to the microwave clock.

Ty was home.

I didn’t know whether to be relieved or
pissed this wasn’t done before he got home.

What I did know was that I didn’t want my
husband to be forced to share Arnold Fuller’s air. What I also
knew, unfortunately, was that I had no choice in that matter.

And that sucked.

Fuller instantly broke eye contact with Tate
and turned to Officer Frank. “Walker’s back, search his car.”

“Arnie –” Frank started.

“What’d I say?” Fuller snapped. “Search his
fuckin’ car.” Then he finished, “And his wife’s.”

Frank sighed, looked to me and said quietly,
“Sorry, Mrs. Walker, can I have your keys?”

Deke went up in a half-squat on the stool,
pulled my keys out of his pocket and threw them across the island.
Frank caught them the moment Ty made it to the top of the stairs.
His eyes came to me and did a quick but thorough assessment. I
tried to smile, his eyes dropped to my mouth, giving nothing away
then his body rounded the railing and he took everything in.

Fuller opened his mouth to speak but Keaton
immediately moved forward while talking. “Walker, we’re here to do
a random inspection of your house and we need the keys to your
vehicle so we can inspect it.”

Without hesitation or word, Ty underhand
tossed them to him.

“He’s also got an SUV. Search that,” Fuller
ordered sharply.

“Jeez, how long’s it gonna take for these
guys to go so we can get this party started?” Bubba muttered
loudly.

“Careful, Jonas,” Fuller whispered. “You
don’t want me lookin’ into the permits for your wife’s bar.”

“Careful, Arnie, Krystal owns that bar with
me,” Tate put in angrily.

“Everyone just relax. We’ll look at the cars
then go,” Gifford attempted to sooth the escalating tempers.

“Mama,” Ty called and I looked to him. “Come
here. Kiss.”

I blinked at what I thought was an absurd
request. Then I stared at my husband who seemed totally calm and
was exuding complete patience like he was waiting in a not very
long line to get popcorn at a movie.

Then he raised his brows, his patience
waning but not with the proceedings, with the delay in my welcome
home kiss.

So I went to him, put one hand to his chest,
one to his flat, tight abs, got up on my tiptoes and offered my
husband my mouth. He wrapped his arm around my waist, curled his
fingers around my hip and took it.

When he lifted his head, I grinned, dropped
back to the soles of my feet, turned slightly to the side and
leaned into his long, strong body.

Then I looked at Keaton, “Keys for the
Cruiser are downstairs on the hook on the door in the utility
room.”

He stared at me half a beat, nodded and
moved.

I looked around the people in my kitchen,
thrilled but not surprised at this show of support for Ty but
wondering if everyone being there meant plans for my kickass
celebration dinner were ruined.

I was kind of hoping they were.

But mostly hoping they weren’t.