Page 21 of Waylaid in Whittier

“Why the hacksaw? To sneak into the jail and saw off the bars to set Elvira free?” Millie teased.

“In case we’re out in the wilderness. C’mon, Millie. You know a hacksaw won’t cut through steel bars. We would need explosives, and I’m fresh out of them.” Sharky shaded his eyes. “Where’s the rest of the team?”

“On standby. We may need to divide and conquer. Time will be our biggest hurdle today.”

“You’re right. Which is why we’re taking the Flamethrower. So we can get where we’re going fast.” Sharky grabbed Millie’s arm and propelled her toward the bow of the ship.

Parked off to the side, spit-shined and ready to roll was his prized possession, his souped-up fire engine red scooter, which Millie suspected was barely street legal. “Are you sure it’s safe for us to drive this around on the streets?”

“Why not?”

“Remember our last scooter incident,” Millie reminded him.

“I learned my lesson.” He made an “x” across his chest. “Scout’s honor. We’ll ride nice and easy around town.”

“We had better. We won’t be any help to Elvira if we’re behind bars, too.”

Sharky handed Millie a helmet. “Like I said, I’ll be cool as a cucumber. No worries.”

Despite her skepticism about what her friend considered cruising around nice and easy, she climbed on, her helmet firmly in place.

Like Millie, he had done his homework, knew exactly where they were going and how to reach Whittier’s jail on the outskirts of town.

They pulled into the parking lot and found an empty spot near the front. A posted sign designated it for snowmachines.

“This looks good enough for me.” Sharky kicked the kickstand down and waited for Millie to hop off. “Not much to look at, is it?”

“Most police stations and jails aren’t.” Millie removed her helmet and studied the building, consisting of red brick on the lower half and some sort of rustic wooden slats covering the top.

She caught up with Sharky on the sidewalk, making the short trek to the front door. Big, bold arrows directed visitors.

To the right was the fire department. To the left was the EMS station. Straight ahead was the place they were looking for—the police station.

“One stop city services,” Millie quipped. “Saving residents both time and money.”

Stepping inside, they found a large reception desk with clear glass window partitions. Sharky greeted the clerk behind the counter. “Good morning. My friend and I are here to visit Elvira Cobb, an inmate.”

“Elvira Cobb.” The woman peered at them over the top of her glasses, her eyes flitting from one to the other. “Are you related to her?”

“Do we have to be?” Sharky asked.

“No. I’ll need a copy of your photo identification.”

Millie and Sharky handed the woman their driver’s licenses. She made a clicking sound with her teeth. “You both live in Miami?”

“We live and work on a cruise ship,” Millie explained. “However, we need a physical address, so we use PO boxes in Miami, which is our home port.”

“Ah.” The woman’s eyes lit. “You came in on the mega cruise ship this morning.”

“We did,” Sharky confirmed. “Ms. Cobb is a friend of ours.”

“Do you know if she’s still here?” Millie asked, hoping there was an off-chance Patterson had old information and Elvira had been released.

“She’s still here. The judge hasn’t set bond.” The clerk ran their licenses through a machine and handed them back. “A guard will be up shortly to store your belongings and escort you to the visitor’s area.”

Millie and Sharky thanked her and stepped off to the side.

A guard appeared moments later, calling their names. He led them through a heavy metal door to a side room. “You’ll need to leave your backpacks and bags in here.”

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