Page 42 of Ground Truth

The glares the two bangers exchanged made it clear that the underlying disagreement, whatever it was, was simply postponed and not resolved.

The old man had given them an excuse to back off. For now.

Flint had engaged in similar scenarios when he was a rebellious teen spoiling for a fight. Most of the time, the thing they really wanted was not to fight. When an adult breaks up the argument before the fight starts, everybody wins.

Until the next time.

“Get yourselves out of here before you get arrested, then. Go on.” The man glared them into shrugs of submission, and they moved like two separate herds toward the exit.

“Minerva,” the older man said, turning his attention to the mother. “Take your boy home. Bring him to my house tomorrow. I’ll babysit for you so you can get your business done in peace.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do,” the mother said, lifting her pride.

But she walked her son outside, head held high all the way through the doors and down the sidewalk.

Now that the troublemakers had been dealt with, the crowd returned to its noisy, overheated but mostly peaceful waiting.

“What were all those cops doing?” Drake said quietly. “Not one of them came over here to break things up.”

“Probably didn’t see. They’re busy here. Good thing we didn’t need to intervene, too,” Flint replied.

Drake said, “Could have been a serious situation.”

Flint shrugged. “Those young thugs might be all bark and no bite.”

“At least one was smart enough to get the plastic shiv past the metal detectors,” Drake pointed out reasonably. “Trouble’s brewing, for sure.”

“Let’s hope we’re long gone before it does.” Flint’s head was still pounding. “Got any Tylenol?”

“Not on me,” Drake said. “Maybe Sergeant Seltz has some. Want me to get it?”

Just then a dark-haired woman pushed through a set of double doors behind Seltz. She was attractive as all get-out, even dressed in a cheap black pantsuit, yellow shirt, and clunky shoes.

For a brief moment, he imagined her all decked out for an evening in the city. She’d be hot as hell.

He grinned at the image, and it reminded him just how long it had been since he’d had a proper date. Way too long, for damned sure. Something else he’d fix as soon as he had the chance.

She stopped to scan the room and made a quick beeline directly toward them, all business.

At the moment, best not to forget that she wore a badge and carried a gun. No doubt she knew how to use it, too.

“That’s gotta be Detective Myer.” Drake pointed his chin in her direction. “How’d she know we were the ones asking about Ella Belle?”

“With any luck, she likes cowboys. Gives us the advantage.” Flint grinned appreciatively, standing up straight. “You see anybody else in here looking like they just climbed down off a horse?”

Drake glanced at their jeans and boots and smiled. “Fair point.”

-

Chapter 22

Detective Dean Myer strode through the crowded lobby as if she expected the crowds to part for her and yield the right of way. Which they did.

When she approached, Drake introduced himself and glanced toward her path, which had filled in behind her. “Impressive.”

“Michael Flint,” he said as he shook her extended hand and offered a smile. “Please excuse him. He doesn’t get out much.”

“Let’s step outside where we can hear ourselves think,” Detective Myer suggested with a smile, leading the way.

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