Page 58 of Absolution

“Dude, I am already ahead of you. She told Darcy and Raze that they were her last interview, and that she’d be finishing her report soon. I’ve been remotely monitoring her computer for it since.”

“I would tell you that I love you, but you might just take it the other way.”

“Awe Ratchy,” he teases. “I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

Voodoo laughs, and I pray that this asshole doesn’t have the phone on speaker again. I listen for the roar of laughter in the background, but it remains silent. Thank fucking god for that.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do, brother.” He interjects between his snickers. “Shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Thanks, V. I owe you. Say, how did Ricca react when she was out there? She try to kick your ass?”

Voodoo starts to answer me, but a large boom comes from outside the trailer. The thin trailer door flies open and a canister is shot into the void. It thuds against the wall, before ricocheting to the ground. An explosion of gas flashes before me, before I can make a move. With my phone still in my hand, the noxious gas fills my lungs. I sputter trying to breathe in clean air, but fall down off the couch onto my knees. Two dark figures break through the plane of the door, and head straight for me. The cloudiness in the air blocks out their identities. Two pairs of hands grab, and pull me forward towards the door. As soon as we reach clean air, I gasp. My lungs heave trying to inhale fresh air into my burning lungs. The water pouring from my irritated eyes still blurs the scene, and my ears ring from the explosion.

“Up,” a muffled voice demands. I shake my head to try to recover my hearing, but the ringing continues.

“I can’t hear you,” I yell out.

The people holding me jerk me to my feet, but don’t free my hands.

“Get up, motherfucker,” a voice finally pushes through the high-pitch squeals.

I rub my eyes off my shoulders, and squint. Two men in dark blue officer’s uniforms are holding me up. Their faces are obscured with black gas masks. Only their eyes are visible.

“What the fuck?” I bellow. “Was there a gas explosion?” I question trying to rationalize the scene before me. One of the men’s muttered voice goes unheard, and before I can stop it, I am being cuffed and shoved in the back of an awaiting squad car. As I am shoved inside, one of the officers rips my phone out of my hands cancelling my ability to call for help or record the intrusion.

“What the fuck is going on?” I scream. My blurry vision finally clears as I watch a group of men enter the trailer.

Is this a fucking raid? Why the hell are they doing this? This must be a mistake. There’s no cause for this.

I try to call out to the officer standing outside of the car, but my pleas fall on deaf ears. He doesn’t even turn to acknowledge me.

I watch in horror as an officer tosses item after item out of the trailer. Anger flourishes within me as I am forced to watch them destroy our home.

“Where’s the warrant?” I yell. “This is illegal!”

“Shut up, in there.” The officer orders.

Two hours pass by, and I am still stuck in the squad car, waiting for answers. Minute by minute, I become a ticking time bomb of rage on the brink of explosion. Ricca’s absence tells me that this isn’t a coincidence. Something has happened, and I need answers now.

Finally, an officer approaches the car, and throws the door ajar. He reaches in and pulls me out of the car, making sure to shove me against the warm, metal exterior of the squad car. My joints ache from the cramped backseat of the car, but I fight through the discomfort.

“Where are the rest of the drugs?” the officer barks at me. “Where are they hidden?”

“Drugs? What drugs? We don’t have that shit here. You’ve got the wrong place.”

“Don’t lie to me. Your wife was picked up with them. They have to be here,” he tells me.

“The place is clean, sir,” a different officer says stepping up beside us.

“Are you sure?”

“Tossed the entire place, sir. No hits from the dogs. If she had drugs here, she’s cleaned up her tracks.”

“Fuck,” the officer holding me exclaims. “Fine. Get everyone out. We’re done here.”

“Bullshit,” I respond through gritted teeth. “Where’s your warrant and where’s my wife?”

“Your wife, Mr. Azzo, is currently where she belongs, in the Hancock County Jail. She’s been charged with a Class D felony of possession of cocaine.”

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