Canine Cupids for Cops Read online

  Something about the strange man stirred Perry deep inside. There was so much strength there, character and goodness. Maybe most would not see it, but he did. Those traits drew him like a magnet pulled at a rusty nail.

  God, if only I could do something, say something. He’d always been sensitive to other folks’ anguish. At first, he’d thought maybe he could help in some way by being a cop. It didn’t seem to work like that, though. His duties just exposed him to more misery.

  Marco wasn’t a talker. Without a word more, he brought them two big mugs of steaming coffee and, a few minutes later, a pair of plates, each holding a green chile cheeseburger and a big stack of fries. After that, he limped back to his seat and the half-empty glass of soda he’d clearly nursed for some time. He showed no curiosity at all about Perry’s companion.

  Finally, Ike looked up to meet Perry’s gaze across the table. “Well, reckon that’s done. I know for sure I won’t be goin’ back.” He drew in a long breath and let it out in a slow, subvocal whistle. “If a guy without a lot of skills needed a job, where would you say he should look?”

  Perry rubbed his jaw, feeling the stubble along the bone, a reminder he had not shaved when he got up. “It’s kinda like you can’t get there from here, but might be a thing or two.” He paused and then went on. “I expect anybody can sweep and mop, empty the trash. We could use a janitor over at the county offices. Although Sheriff Ben gets prisoners to do it at times, a deputy has to watch them. Be easier if we just hired somebody.”

  Before Ike could answer, Marco spoke, making both Perry and Ike jump. “If a person can cook, Dot could use them here. Angie quit yesterday. She’s going down to Las Cruces to live with her boyfriend. Dot can’t pay too much but she’s fair and you can eat for free. That’s what I do.”

  “Good idea,” Perry said, looking across at Marco, half-surprised he’d spoken. “Thanks, Marco.” He turned back to Ike. “Well, that’s two places to start. Probably more jobs in the bigger towns, like Silver City or Las Cruces, but they’re more likely to want references and background checks, shit like that. Some might hire you anyway, while most…” He let the sentence trail off unfinished. Ike didn’t need it spelled out.

  Ike seemed to consider the suggestions in a moment’s silence before he responded. “Sheriff in today?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s in the office every weekday and often on Saturday, unless he’s out in the field filling in so a deputy can have a day off. Sheriff Ben isn’t hard to talk to. I can introduce you if you want me to.”

  Ike shook his head. “No, you don’t need to sponsor me. Maybe better for you if you don’t. I’ll tell him the truth, and he can make his own decision.”

  After they finished the meal, Perry grabbed the ticket. As he headed toward the cash register up front, he saw Ike pull two crumpled dollar bills out of his pocket and lay them on the table. He’d bet that was almost the last money the other man had, if not the last. Ike had a lot of pride. Maybe that was a good thing…you could lean on that when there wasn’t much else.

  * * * *

  Ike followed Perry out of the café. He stopped short of climbing back into the truck.

  “Think I’ll look around town a little while if it’s all the same to you. Need to stretch my legs and settle that great burger. I sure missed green chile while I was locked up.”

  Perry grinned. “You’re a free man now, Ike, and you don’t have to answer to me. Want me to let your dog out into the backyard when I get home? There’s a good fence. He can’t get out unless he’s a real Houdini.”

  “That’d be good. Little Red seems to be pretty good about not messing where he shouldn’t, but a pup can only hold it so long. I’ll be back before dark.” He turned and started off before he heard Perry fire up the truck. This time, the deputy had left his dog in the vehicle when they went into the restaurant. Ike noticed she reclaimed her seat in the front as soon as he got out. Still, she’d dealt pretty well with being bumped. He could see why Perry seemed so taken with her.

  Starting off down the street, which was also one of the two highways that crossed south of town, he found himself wanting to whistle despite the shocks he’d experienced today. Freedom. It felt so damn good. He’d buried the pain of losing all chance of going home into a deep, sealed place. He wasn’t going to dwell on what could never be. Life happened.

  At the end of the block, he stopped to scan both ways. Yep, that looked like the county building down the cross street to the left. He turned that way before he gave himself time to postpone it. He didn’t let his pace slow as he approached his destination, either.

  The complex was a kind of hodge-podge, probably starting out as a traditional adobe, but it had gained a cement block wing and then a steel building tacked on to the other side. He went into the lobby and paused to read the signs and arrows directing visitors to different offices. The sheriff’s was one of the closest. The door stood ajar. When he paused there, he saw a woman seated at a desk. She looked Latina, and there was something slightly familiar about her face.

  Hearing his footsteps, she looked up. “How can I help you today?”

  “I—er, is the sheriff in? I’d like to speak to him if I can. If not, maybe I can make an appointment.”

  The woman smiled. “He’s here, and whenever he’s in, there’s no such thing as needing an appointment. Can I tell him who wants to see him? Maybe what it’s about?”

  “I’m Isaiah Hernandez. Someone told me there might be a job for a janitor here.”

  She blinked, then resumed the smile. “Okay, come on. I’ll introduce you.”

  Ben Harper was a husky man with a jowly face. For an instant, Ike flashed back to the sheriff down in Texas, the one who’d arrested him for defending himself and probably for looking like he might be African-American. A knot of terror seized his gut. He stopped dead for a long instant.

  No, this isn’t that, isn’t there. It’ll be okay. Perry said he was a decent man.

  When he snapped out of the stasis, he realized the secretary or whatever she was had introduced him. Harper stood and came around the desk, holding out a hand. “Glad to meet you, Mr. Hernandez. You’re new in town, or I’d know your face.”

  Ike accepted the handshake, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “New now, but I grew up in Esperanza half a lifetime ago. I know that’s all gone, but this area still kind of feels like home. I was hoping I might find work and stay awhile.”

  The sheriff searched Ike’s face with a keen, assessing look. Finally, he gave a small nod as if he’d answered his own question. “I’m afraid I don’t have any vacancies, and none of the deputies are looking to retire soon. Anything else would have to go to the county board for approval.”

  “I heard y’all might need a janitor, that you often use prisoners but it takes a deputy off patrol to guard them. I could start part time or even volunteer until you see if my work’s acceptable.”

  The sheriff pondered a few seconds. “You know, I’ve got some discretionary funds, not much, but enough to cover minimum wage about twenty hours a week for a bit. We could use some serious cleaning around here. I won’t ask the deputies to do it, and you’re right. Prisoners have to be supervised.”

  “I need to tell you something first, sir. I just got out of prison down in Texas. I was in for assault and served my time. Got out a little early for good behavior. It that poses a problem, I’ll understand.”

  The other man shrugged. “Keep your nose clean, and I won’t have one. I get a strong feeling you aren’t anxious to see the inside of a cell again, at least with the door locked. If you were, you wouldn’t be looking for work. I’d say you haven’t been out long.”

  Ike nodded. “Less than a month. I kinda ended up here by accident, maybe luck. One of your deputies found me out on the highway during that storm last night.”

  Harper chuckled. “That’d be Perry. He’s got a soft spot for strays, like that mixed-up dog he has. I won’t hold it against him. And I won’t hold your past agains
t you so long as you demonstrate my faith isn’t misplaced. Report to me at eight tomorrow, and I’ll put you to work.”

  He again looked Ike over. “Need some clothes? Those look like prime release stuff, not the best or sturdiest. If you need enough for a pair of Levi’s and a shirt and jacket, I can advance a little of your wages.”

  Ike shook his head. “Thanks, but this’ll do me until I get paid properly. No ladies I want to impress or anything.”

  Still chuckling, Harper shook Ike’s hand once more and then went back around his desk. He stopped short of resuming his seat. “Some of the deputies may look askance at you, but they’ll be all right once they see you’re staying clean. Just don’t get your feathers ruffled.”

  “I won’t, sir. I understand why they might feel that way.”

  With a lighter heart and a jauntier step, not forced this time, Ike left the courthouse. He had one more stop to make before he went home. Whoa, home? When had he started to think of Perry Parker’s rustic little house as home? Well, it was the closest thing to one that he had for now. Once he had a job or maybe even two, he might be able to afford a place of his own, but for now he was grateful for the shelter and a restful bed. Companionship of a sort, too, to be honest. There was something very comfortable and yet subtly exciting about the lanky deputy.

  Ike’s next stop would be at Dot’s Diner. He could cook, all right. Many hours in the prison kitchen had seen to that. He could also wash dishes and handle any other task the café might provide. Dot seemed to accept him last night. Maybe she would be willing to hire him, too, if she was back from the rest Marco had mentioned by now. If not, he’d find out when he could speak to her.

  * * * *

  When Ike got back to Perry’s, dusk was falling. He found Perry sitting at the table in the kitchen, both hands wrapped around a big mug. The deputy looked up when Ike walked in.

  As if for the first time, Ike looked the other man over. Perry was a bit above average height and far from husky but gave an impression of solidity. His dark brown hair held reddish highlights and his eyes—they were unique, at least unusual. Hazel, but they never seemed quite the same twice. Damn, but this deputy is one striking looking man…

  “Did you have a good walk around town?”

  Ike couldn’t quite tell whether the other man was upset, concerned, or just making conversation. Here in the outside world, the manners and customs of prison no longer prevailed. In eight years, he’d learned to read his fellow inmates pretty well. Perry Parker was a cat of another stripe.

  Still, Ike couldn’t help grinning. “You could say so. I’ll be starting two part-time jobs tomorrow, swamping out the jail and sheriff’s office and filling in at Dot’s Diner. Maybe in a couple weeks, I can start looking for my own place and get out of your hair.”

  For an instant, he looked straight at Perry, seeing a strange mixture of emotions in the other man’s eyes. Something like electricity crackled through the air between them. When the connection became too intense, he stooped to scoop Rojo into his arms. The dog had been trying to get his attention ever since he came in anyway. He spent a few minutes playing with the pup, time enough for the moments of sizzling tension to subside.

  By the time he looked at Perry again, the other man’s face had gone bland and blank. He lifted the mug and took a swig, made a face and spat it back. “Damn coffee went cold. I must’ve sat here longer than I realized. Well, that’s okay. I don’t suppose you’re hungry?”

  With a shrug, Ike shook his head. “Not really. I’m not used to eating a lot.”

  Perry arched one eyebrow. “Yeah, I can see that. You’re skinny as a hillbilly’s fence rail. Didn’t they feed you down there at the big house?”

  “Not much. I worked in the kitchen and could’ve had anything I needed. Just never was too hungry. Everything tastes like shit when you aren’t free.”

  Perry’s gaze snapped back to his. “I hope you intend to stay free now that you’ve gotten out.”

  “That’s the plan. Getting a job is the first step. I’ll do my damn best to keep out of any kind of trouble at all. Don’t want to bring anything bad down on you, helping me like you have, and I sure don’t want to see the inside of any more bars.”

  Chapter 4

  Three weeks later

  Perry let the county SUV creep along a dusty, narrow street. This was not one of his favorite areas to patrol, but it was in his territory, and he usually found something to deal with. Once, Fuego de Oro had been another mining camp. That was probably at least seventy-five years ago. Now it was a shantytown where the down-and-out camped. When they had been displaced from Esperanza, the folks who did not get jobs elsewhere came here. They patched up the crumbling adobes and cobbled together huts from the ruins of older cabins and shacks. A ragtag mixture of older Latino couples and the less ambitious of their children and grandchildren, along with some real riffraff that preyed on them, had claimed the dead town.

  The old company at Esperanza had allowed people to live in cheap company housing if so much as one family member was an employee. That meant as long as a son mined or a daughter worked in an office, the old folks had a place to stay. That ended. Perfectly livable houses sat vacant behind a prison-style, chain-link fence, but the company didn’t give a shit. That sucked, especially when it ended up this way. Perry shook his head, shoving his anger to the back of his mind. There wasn’t a fucking thing he could do except try to help anyone he came across who’d accept assistance without making demands.

  At that moment, a kid darted out from one of the dark shacks. A few shacks had electricity, but most didn’t. He wasn’t sure about water and sewer. There were some outhouses, he knew. He braked as the child circled the vehicle to his side. He rolled down the window. “What’s the matter, mi’jo?”

  He used the familiar term, an abbreviation of mi hijo or my son. Most grandparents used that for the boys in their family.

  “Mama, she won’ wake up. Me and Nita are hungry. Poppi went to town to the bar, and he busted mama’s phone. Said all she did was call the drug dealer on it.”

  Perry swore under his breath. The situation was so typical. “Okay, let me see if I can get your mama to wake up. Ella esta boracho?”

  The drug of choice here was meth, but some used pot, coke, or even heroin. There was no way to know what the child’s mother had taken. Maybe she was just drunk. People often turned to alcohol when other drugs could not be had.

  The small boy shrugged. “Yo no se. Creo que no.”

  I don’t know, but don’t think so. As he mentally translated, Perry got out and followed the ragged child to the nearest shack.

  He had to use his flashlight since there did not seem to be any lights. The thin woman sprawled on a broken-down couch, spittle dribbling from her slack mouth. She was breathing. He took that as a positive sign. He put two fingers against her neck and found a jerky pulse. After that, he shook her to no effect, not hard although with force enough to have wakened a person from normal sleep. On a box at one end of the couch, he found a crude pipe holding a crystalline residue. Shit. No telling what it was—probably meth. He didn’t doubt it was a drug. He dug a baggie out of his pocket and slid the pipe into it. It would have to be tested to find out what she’d been using.

  Nothing to do but call the EMTs since the girl—he could hardly call her a woman, though she appeared to have a son about six and a daughter maybe three or four—seemed to be suffering an overdose. He could not smell alcohol, but her breathing was increasingly ragged, and the pulse he felt was, too. The county would have to take charge of the kids since he saw no other adult in the hovel.

  When the ambulance arrived, several people emerged from adjacent hovels, but they lingered in the shadows. None approached. Perry could see the EMT crew was not happy, although they would do their job efficiently. Dealing with drug issues had become all too common lately, and he knew they hated it. Car wrecks, mostly with DWI involved, and domestic abuse situations were other major issues requiri
ng their services. None of it was fun—picking up the messes left behind by human weakness, meanness, and stupidity. That was a big part of Perry’s job, too.

  He’d have to take the kids to the shelter in Riata. They were both dirty and poorly dressed. The little girl sniffled, snot streaming down her face. The boy wiped her nose with the ragged tail of his shirt as Perry put them into the back seat. Before he settled in the front where Badger watched the proceedings with a hint of disdain, an older woman approached out of the covering darkness.

  “Un momento. I have to tell you this. It’s the skinny, ugly one, El Feo. He sold her the shit. He’s trying to get my daughter hooked, too, but I tell her it’ll kill her baby if she does it. So far, she won’t, but he’s the one you need to find, take him off the street. That pendejo. Candy man, they call him, but I call him el caca. Get him. He lives in Riata or maybe La Bajada.”

  “I’ll try,” Perry said. “I know the results of the poison he peddles. I’ve seen what it does. Gracias. Any information helps.”

  Before he could ask her name or anything else, the woman scuttled away. Perry started the SUV and turned back toward town. A dark mood settled over him as he drove. Even if he caught this dealer and the guy was convicted and locked up, even if he squealed on ten levels above him, almost up to the cartel, there would be a dozen more to take his place.

  Sometimes Perry wondered why he even tried. Although he knew he never would, he could almost see why some cops went rogue, either turning to crime or trying to kill anyone they even suspected was dealing drugs or doing anything else illegal.

  For an instant, a chilling doubt swept over him. The skinny one—it seemed like this guy was a new dealer in the area since he’d only heard the nickname a time or two before, all recently. The skinny one—that could describe Ike. Even after three weeks of decent meals, the guy was still very thin. He’d been in town exactly twenty-three days. As far as Perry knew, he worked ten or twelve hours most days, and the rest of the time was either sleeping or doing chores around Perry’s. Still, Perry was on duty for ten hours or more five days a week and sometimes got called out on his days off. There was a lot of time he had no way to know where Ike was or what he was doing…