Page 27 of Stilettos and Outlaws

I grinned. Only his feet were free of cactus spines. He looked like something out of a horror movie.

“You fucking bitch, you think this is funny?” The kidnapper screeched.

“No, I think it’s justice.”

Howling in rage, he lunged at me.

Dante kicked him off his feet and Mario tased him at the same time.

The kidnapper landed on a prickly pear cactus and howled in pain.

“Karma’s a bitch,” I said.

“Fuck off!”

Dante urged us down the sidewalk. “Let’s go get your chocolate.”

“Get me some French Mint. I need to give Sergeant Durham an update on the explosion,” Dad said.

I nodded. “And it was the damn chickens’ fault that everything went kablooey.”

Dad rolled his eyes.

Chapter Six

I emailed the results of the last background check to Dad’s computer. Thankfully, it had only taken us two days to finish them. Now, Julie and I were going to the mall for a pedicure and some shopping.

My grim-faced father hurried into the control center and handed me a thumb drive in a plastic evidence bag. “The ID techs are overwhelmed, and I need all the fingerprints we collected run through our database immediately.”

I gaped at him in horror. Spider webs with a mortuary of dead creepy crawlies decorated Dad’s hair, and his clothes were covered in gooey black mud. “Good, God.” I waved my hand in front of my face. “It smells like you’ve been rolling in shit.”

“No kidding.” Julie grabbed a fly swatter and walloped the hell out of the horde of flies buzzing around Dad’s chest.

Dad gave her the stink eye.

I bit my lower lip to keep from laughing. Fly guts now littered his grimy shirt. “What happened?”

Dad seized my water bottle and drained it. “We were checking Chuck’s outhouse for more explosives.”

Julie wrinkled her nose. “That explains the smell.”

“Why does Chuck have an outhouse?” Call me curious.

Dad wiped at the sweat rolling down his face, smearing the gunk around. “Who knows. I think it’s been there since 1850.”

“So, did you find more explosives buried in the shit?” Julie handed him her water bottle.

Wrapping his cruddy fingers around the plastic, Dad nodded. “We did. Along with a canister of Cobalt-60.” He emptied the water bottle.

A cold chill ran up my back. “They’re trying to build a dirty bomb!”

“They are and Chuck refuses to answer any of our questions.”

I carefully cleaned the evidence bag with a wet wipe and handed the box to Dad. “Use them. Please. We’ll start running the fingerprints.”

“No offense, sir, but what you need is a long, hot shower.” Julie smacked another fly.

Dad shuddered. “You should see Dante. The toilet seat in the outhouse broke and he took a header into the gunk.”

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