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Looking out over the water from his hotel room balcony, Gordon Wiggins was painfully aware of the passage of time. Prison does that to a fellow, I suppose he thought as he took a sip of scotch. Haskell had left over an hour ago, but he was still turning their talk around in his head. He hadn’t expected Burnett to hire a bunch of ex-cops to run the facility’s security, but he’d managed to hide his surprise when Haskell revealed that little detail. That complicated things, but only a bit. It just meant he’d have to be extra careful when picking from Haskell’s associates. On the other hand, it also meant he’d have more options. If anyone had more enemies than drug dealers, it was cops. What he didn’t like was the idea of this Watkins running around drunk out of his mind and whining like a schoolgirl who’d been told she couldn’t go on the class trip. For his plan to work there needed to be quite, careful work, and he didn’t think the man could handle any part of that. But Haskell didn’t seem likely to cut him loose. Misplaced loyalty. Or maybe Arthur’s taken a shine to the boy. Never figured him for that sort, but you never know. Either way he knew he needed to be ready to deal with Roger Watkins. Turning, he stepped back into the air conditioning and slid the glass door shut behind him. The room’s simple desk was covered with newspapers, and he’d been going through the local channels ever since he got back to his room. Looking for the perfect conduit for his plan. Originally he’d thought to go with television, but the more he looked at it the more he was convinced good old newsprint was the way to start things off. Lurid headlines and grainy photos stuck with people more than a blonde with fake tits reading something off her notes during the ten o’clock news. Start it in print, then let it make its way to the screen. That’s the best way. Grimacing, he turned away from the papers. It still bothered him…how close he and Fremont had been to pulling it off. Getting rid of Caitlin Davies and leaving her drug-running husband to take the fall. Of course, that fool Tommy Lowe had thought the same thing. Pausing, Wiggins looked down at the papers without seeing them. Whatever happened to the cop who saved her life? The more he thought about it, the more it gnawed at him. The bitch would have been under police protection the entire time she was getting ready to testify, and likely for a time after. He’d even seen the man a time or two… “I’m an ass!” He slammed the glass down hard on the desk, sloshing scotch on two of the newspapers. “Burnett IS the damned cop! Same damned hair, same smug face. Of course they’re the same person.” He started to smile, then stopped. Things had just gotten much more complicated. First he had to be sure. Not just suspect, but know. Then he had to use the information. He didn’t want the man dead. He wanted him to suffer. To see his woman’s legacy destroyed before his eyes. That meant if Burnett and the cop were the same person he couldn’t tell a living soul. Especially not Haskell. Friend Arthur would blab it everywhere. He couldn’t help himself. And any hoodlum who did business with Burnett would want to kill the cop. And I can’t have that happen. If the plan was going to work, Gordon Wiggins had to be in control. He’d spent years figuring it out, after all. Caitlin’s legacy clearly meant something to Burnett or whoever this man was. It needed to be methodically and systematically destroyed. Any peasant could burn down a house. It took a skilled and thoughtful man to gut everything the house represented and leave it standing as a reminder. And that meant paying extra attention to the names Haskell brought back, along with a quick visit to an old acquaintance down on the edge of Little Havana. A handgun might be in order in case Watkins caused problems. But there was also the problem of Burnett to solve. And that meant a trip to the library. Likely more than one library. Looking for clues. There had to be something, especially if he looked at the man who’d killed Caitlin. Some slug called Hackman if he remembered right. There had to be something there…something that led him to kill her. And it had to be connected to either Burnett or the cop…both if it was the same man. And if it was there, Gordon Wiggins knew he’d find it. Ricardo Tubbs looked at the application, then at the background check form tabbed into the other side of the personnel folder. “Says here you did ten years with Miami-Dade. Patrol, then Robbery.” He looked up and grinned. “But it don’t say why you dropped your papers. You had a good record. Clean. No shootings. IAD wasn’t following you home. Why’d you leave?” He’d already put in a call to a sergeant in Robbery and knew part of the story, but he figured the lady sitting across from him wouldn’t know that. What someone didn’t say in an interview was often more important than what they said. The blonde took a deep breath. “It’s like this, Mr. Tubbs. I was tired. Tired of running in the same addicts for the same jobs week after week. We’d book ‘em, the DA would wave his magic wand, and they were out on the street again. It was worse after crack hit. No programs to get ‘em in even when they wanted to and we wanted to. The girls were the worst. I’ve got a five year old daughter, and it just…” “Yeah, I hear you.” Rico nodded, checking off a box on the sheet. The sergeant had said she was a cryer and not tough enough for the street. Her answers confirmed what Rico already thought about the sergeant. “And it don’t help when your boss is an asshole.” “How…oh yeah. You were on the force.” “Yeah. And Sergeant Hasko was a pain in my ass, too. Says here you were Army before joining the force.” “Six years with the First Infantry Division. Kansas, Kuwait, and Germany. I was an MP.” “Solid.” Another box was checked after he flipped to the copy of the woman’s DD214 and verified her conditions of discharge. Gotta thank Sonny for showing me how to do that. “I’m still waiting on the drug screen, but assuming that comes back good I’d like to offer you a job here. You’d start on days, at the front desk. Lets you learn the routine and gets the patients used to seeing you. After that you’ll have the chance to move to the new ward.” “Thank you, sir!” She jumped to her feet and pumped Rico’s hand. “I…you won’t be sorry.” “I’ll call you when we get the report back and you can come in and start the paperwork. Shouldn’t be more than a day or so.” Rico returned the handshake and didn’t sit down until the woman left his office. Then he smiled and shook his head. It always gave him a warm feeling in his chest when the people he hired reacted that way. Still, there was the other side. Reaching out, he picked up the phone and hit a programmed number key. “Yeah. I’m hiring her. We need more females for the new ward. Don’t call the other two I marked for a day or so. I need to see where we stand in terms of vacancies.” He gave the folder one last look before closing it and tossing it in his ‘OUT’ basket. From there it would make its way to the bowels of HR where terrible things would happen to it. They were slowly computerizing the system, mostly with Lester’s help, and Rico couldn’t wait for the day when those folders disappeared entirely. Leaning back in his chair, he thought back to the conversation he’d had with Gina just after he came in. Trudy had called, accepting the art therapy position. It wasn’t a paying job exactly, at least not now, but it would be good to see Big Booty Trudy around Caitlin’s House. And he knew the girls would take to her. Trudy spoke their language, and her passion for art and music both required no words. And it didn’t hurt that she could and would kick any of their asses if they acted up. It had been good seeing Robbie. And just going out with Sonny and Jenny. Rico thought he’d done good adjusting to life without the Job, but he found himself missing the little things like that. Drinks after work. Sitting and bullshitting during a prolonged stakeout. He missed some of the rush, nowhere near as much as Sonny did, but it was those little things he missed more. Even Stan’s fantastic coffee in the morning. “I gotta find a way to get him on the regular payroll,” he muttered as he reached for another folder. The phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. Looking over, he saw it was the security main desk. “What’s up?” “We got someone out at the edge of the property, Mr. Tubbs.” Being called ‘Mr. Tubbs’ was part of the job he was still adjusting to. “Solid. They over the line?” “Not yet. From the camera it looks like one of those reporter types with the big-ass cameras.” The security desk man chuckled. “Those sensors those two goofballs put in are the real deal. I’ve been tracking this guy since he got within fifty yards of the fence.” “He look like he’s gonna try to jump the wire?” “Not sure. He’s in sector Charlie Two, so he’d have to if he wants pictures of anything other than the while wall.” The guard paused. “And there he goes.” “Send one of the mobile teams. I’ll meet ‘em there.” Hanging up, Rico shrugged on his suit coat and headed for the door. It had been over two months since they’d had a fence-jumper, and he wanted to see if the chump was a repeat customer or someone new. The Jeep rattled to a stop just at the edge of the cleared path surrounding the wire fence surrounding Caitlin’s House. Rico smiled when he saw the rough dirt path on both sides of the fence. It had been Stan’s idea to take a page from the old East German playbook and run the fence inside the property instead of right on the edge. That way you were on Caitlin’s House property as soon as you set foot on the cleared path on the far side of the fence. Rico’s security force was almost two distinct units: one set of guards for interior security in the units and another for patrol outside. The ones he picked for outside duty were usually big, quiet, and intimidating…just like the two surrounding a pale skinny dude draped with enough cameras to sink him if he fell in a two foot-deep puddle. The punk was waving his arms and shouting, and there was something familiar about him. It clicked just as he shut off the Jeep. “Jimmy Campbell. As I live and breathe! And you’re still trying to lecture my people about the press. How many times do I have to tell you this is private property?” Jimmy had a thin face dotted with what were either zits or freckles and watery blue eyes. “An’ how many times I gotta tell you, Dubbs, the public has a right to know…” “That stops right at the dirt path on the other side of this fence. And the name’s Tubbs, chump.” He turned to the guards. “Take this rat to the main gate and hold him until the police get here. We’re pressing trespass charges this time.” “Wait! You can’t…” “Oh, but I can. I’m sick of your attitude.” Rico could feel the anger turning inside him. “How would you feel if your daughter was trying to get clean and you saw her picture smeared across the Post front page with a headline calling this ‘Hooker Hotel’? And yeah, I saw that issue, chump. We’ve got footage of you jumping that fence at least four times. Today is the day you pay for that.” He turned to the tall guard who’d once been a state trooper. “Call it in when you get there. I’ll have Legal draw up the papers.” Back in his office, he made the call to Legal and then punched in Sonny’s number. He smiled when he heard the familiar voice. “Crockett.” “Yeah, it’s Rico. I’m having that chump Campbell from the Post arrested on trespass charges. He jumped the Charlie Two fence again and trotted his old ‘right to know’ act again.” “Good. That moron’s got a hard-on for the House. You let Legal know?” “Yeah, and my people are putting the package together right now. Tapes, photos, copies of the warnings we sent to him and the Post. The whole deal.” “Good. I’d let Dr. Jessup know, too. The Post will run some shitty headlines and we can expect questions.” “Yeah, and she looks better than either of us do on camera.” Rico smiled. “I’ll read Gina in, too.” “Good man. Have Legal look into some kind of restraining order as well. I don’t want that piece of trash on our property again.” There was a pause. “I gotta run. Jenny’s got some budget stuff she wants me to look over…” “Solid. I just wanted to read you in first, partner.” “Yeah. I’ll be by this afternoon to go through those tapes from Robbie’s. See if we can spot anything.” Ten minutes later he’d called everyone who needed calling, and leaned back in his chair with a low sigh. Miami-Dade was about five minutes out according to the front gate, and there’d be more paperwork to sign and trees to kill once they showed up and took possession of Campbell. Still, something Sonny had said was still rattling around in his head. Why were Campbell and the Post so interested in Caitlin’s House? Reaching out, he hit the button for Mindy’s extension. “Hey, baby. Can you drop over here for a second?” No matter how many times he saw her, Mindy still took his breath away. Her black pencil skirt and deep blue silk top set off her red hair to perfection, and she smiled as she followed his eyes. “I see you like my choices.” “Always, lady. Looked good this morning, looks better now.” He smiled. “Anyhow, I got a coupla questions for you.” He told her about Campbell in short words. “Sonny mentioned it, and now I wanna know. Is there any reason he or the Post would have such a hard-on for us? I know the House got some press early on, but it was mostly good if I remember right. But the Post…” She nodded. “They’re mostly a tabloid, right?” “Yeah, but most of them have no attention span. They run from one manufactured story to the next. But these cats…” “It feels like old times. I’ll put some intel together. Trudy’s gonna be by later today. Maybe she can help.” “Solid. I’ll check with Switek and see if he can figure out anything from the junk the chump was carrying. He had the usual cameras with the telephoto lenses, but there were a couple of gadgets I didn’t recognize. We took pictures, mostly when the chump was shouting at the uniforms.” “I bet that went over well.” “Cuffed and stuffed.” Rico chuckled at the memory. “Let me know what you find out.” “Only if you buy me dinner.” “Solid. Downbeat’s rolling out a new menu and I bet we can talk them into letting us try some of it ahead of time.” The smell of her perfume lingered after she left, and Rico just let the memories wash over him. Then he frowned, remembering the guys from Robbie’s club. If Stan showed up before Sonny he’d have the big guy work his magic. It was likely nothing, but Rico wanted to be sure. Burnett had been a name to conjure with not too long ago, and in some corners memories died hard. Even his own. There were nights, far fewer now, he still snapped awake. Hearing those words. ‘I know you. You’re a cop’ followed by a gunshot. He understood what had happened to Sonny, and the rational side of him accepted it and also knew if Sonny had really wanted to kill him he would have. Still, there was that corner of him that wouldn’t let that memory go. In the moments after he’d snap awake he understood how Stan must have felt every day for years when Sonny came into the squad room back at OCB after Larry Zito was murdered. The buzzing of his phone broke into his thoughts. “Stan’s here.” It was the main gate guard, a big former deputy marshal. “Shall I send the photos from that little dipshit back with him?” “Yeah. Thanks.” Stan was laughing when he came into the office. “Man, you should see one of the pictures they have of that idiot! Makes him look like a squirrel on crack!” “Yeah. I’ll bet.” Rico waved Stan to a chair. “Got two things for you, big guy. One, can you make out anything about his equipment from those pictures? And two, can you clean up some surveillance footage for us?” “His gear’s easy.” Stan flipped through the folder of photos he’d brought from the guard shack. “Mostly garden-variety cameras and stuff.” He paused. “Until you get to this. He’s got a top-grade boom microphone here. The kind of thing you don’t usually see people using outside of our old circles.” “So police-grade?” “Try guys in tan Ford grade.” Stan chuckled. “I’d have to pawn my original Elvis ‘viva Las Vegas’ jacket and the blue suede shoes to even get to borrow one. How this punk got his hands on one…” “Is a very good question. I doubt if the Post has pockets that deep.” “They might.” Stan shrugged. “What can I say? They’ve got a good horoscope column in section C. Anyhow, they wouldn’t have until about six months ago. They got bought out by someone. Don’t know who, but they started running more of those ‘which celeb’s sleeping with the maid or pool boy’ stories than they used to.” “Any idea whose money’s behind it?” “If I had to guess I’d say narco cash. Gives them an outlet and a way to gather intel without anyone noticing. Or one of ‘em might have bought it for his latest squeeze. The money those dudes have…” “Yeah.” Rico rubbed his temples. Another thing for Mindy to dig into. “And now we got this footage.” “He give it to you on CD?” “Yeah.” “Cool.” Stan pulled a laptop out of the backpack slung over his left shoulder. “Lester set this up so I can do some stuff in the field. Saves time and shoe leather, let me tell you.” He waited while the machine booted up and then hit a button opening the CD tray. “And now…presto! Do we have to search for anyone?” “Naw. Robbie said it was set to start right where the chumps we’re interested in come on camera. It’s not much footage, and the quality’s kinda low.” “Tell me about it.” Stan squinted at the monitor, his fingers roaming the keyboard as he tapped in commands and fiddled with the small black pad in front of the keys. “That’s got it. Man, he needs to get a new system. Tell him I’ll give him the friends and family discount. It’s like the thing was filmed underwater in a swamp.” He fiddled a bit more and then sighed. “That’s about as good as it’s gonna get. Want me to save ‘em as images and send them to you?” “Yeah. Sonny should be by this afternoon and we can look ‘em over. But do either of them look familiar to you?” “Not the smaller one. But the big guy with the bad gold chains? He kinda does. I’ll show this to Lester and see if it shakes anything loose with him.” Stan chuckled. “He’ll just say one day the computer will do all this for us by recognizing their faces when it’s compared to a database or something.” “Yeah. That’ll be the day.” Rico shook his head. “Look, I need to you have another look at that Charlie 3 sector. See if there’s anything else we can do over there electronics-wise. And I’ve been meanin’ to ask. What would it take to bring you and Lester on staff officially?” “Seriously?” “Yeah. This is gettin’ more serious by the day, and we need counter-surveillance support more than ever. You two are the best I know, and Sonny and Jenny only want the best here.” “I’ll talk it over with Lester, but I’d say you could just bring us on with a long-term exclusive contract or something fancy like that.” Stan ejected the CD and started shutting down the laptop. “The images are saved on that disk. Robbie was using one of those new disks you can write to as well as read.” “So you’d still be your own thing…” “Yeah. It’s nothing personal, Rico. You know that. But, hell…we built Roach Sweepers up from nothing. I’d really hate to see it just go away.” “I get it, big guy. And I bet Sonny will, too. Check with Lester and let us know. But the offer’s there no matter what shape it takes once the lawyers are done with it.” “I appreciate it, Rico. Now I’d better go look that stuff over and see if we can plug any holes. If this guy’s got access to one of those mics it changes the threat profile. If there’s one thing I learned from Castillo…” “Plan for the worst. Yeah, I know.” Once Stan was gone, Rico fed the disk into his desktop computer and opened the saved images. But he couldn’t focus on them. He was still wondering about that microphone. What the hell did that chump want to listen in on here? It didn’t make sense, and he didn’t like things not making sense. It was almost two before Sonny got to the office, but Rico didn’t really notice the time passing. He called Mindy and added the Post to her list of things to dig into, and then forced his attention back to security questions. By the time Sonny blew in he was ready for a break. “Stan have any luck with those images we got from Robbie?” “Yeah. Come on over and have a look. Detail’s better on this monitor than the big one.” He could smell the sea on Sonny’s faded green Henley as he came around the desk. Slipping his Ray Bans into the collar of his shirt, Sonny leaned in and stared for a long moment. “There’s something about that dude. Can’t quite pin it down, though. Something familiar.” “Yeah. Try this one.” Rico clicked the mouse and brought up the next image. The same one Stan had reacted to. Sonny stared for a long moment. “Hector Rendozo. Went by Hank in ’88 and ’89.” Rico snapped his fingers. “Now I remember the chump. Looks like he’s bulked up a bit since then.” “Prison weight rooms do that for you.” Sonny grinned. “He got busted back in ’89.” “Yeah. By me.” Rico shook his head. “So why’s he looking for Burnett?” “I arranged the transport, but wasn’t in on the bust. Maybe he’s looking to start up again now that he’s out. I thought he landed a dime sentence.” “There’s always good behavior.” “Or something.” Sonny frowned. “I’ll just have Robbie keep an eye out. Once he finds out Burnett’s out of the game odds are old Hank will drift off looking for other runners.” “Yeah.” Rico kept staring at the picture, annoyed at first that he hadn’t recognized Rendozo right off. But ’89 had been a busy year, and Rendozo had been a chump player. Scraps from the Mendoza table if he remembered right. “I don’t remember Hank running with anyone special.” “Some cousin maybe.” Sonny chuckled. “Hell, they all have cousins. Anyhow, about this visitor out by Charlie 3.” “Yeah.” Rico slid the pictures over as Sonny settled down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “Jimmy Campbell. Our favorite chump from the Post. He had their usual clutter of cameras and then this.” He pointed to the picture of the boom mic. “Stan says it’s tan Ford grade. Expensive as hell and hard to get. He also said the Post had a change of ownership a few months back. He thinks narco money but isn’t sure. I’ve got Mindy looking into it. And Campbell, too.” Sonny leaned back in the chair, and Rico could see his eyes shifting into their strange middle distance focus. The Burnett focus. “I never got why the Post was so interested in us from the get. Come to think of it, I think they had a thing for Cait, too. Always trying to smear her. Even before I came into the picture.” “I’ll have Mindy check that, too. With Trudy helping out now those two should knock it out in no time.” “Good. Did you talk to Stan about coming on full-time?” “He’s interested, I think. But he wants to talk it over with Lester and it would be more of a contract kinda thing. He doesn’t want to give up his business.” “Yeah. I get that. Last thing I’d want to do is take that away from Stan. Call it exclusive retainer or whatever.” He shook his head, and Rico saw the eyes shift focus again. “But we can’t get too deep down this one, Rico. The new wing’s important, and the expansion after that. Money’s not a problem, not after Jenny showed me the budget and state of the foundation.” He chuckled. “It’s all Greek to me, but it makes sense to her. But we gotta stay focused on that. No matter how many warnings Jenny gets.” “I hear you, partner. Hired another female guard today. She’s a former MP and bumped heads with that asshole sergeant in Miami-Dade Robbery. That means once she’s trained we’ll have enough females to staff the new wing properly.” “I know that’s a pain in the ass, but I think Dr. Sanchez is right. After what some of the girls who will be on that wing have been through…” “Better to keep the men away. I ain’t arguing there, partner. Just makes it harder to staff with our standards.” Rico felt some of the old anger rising. “But I ain’t lowering standards an inch. And if that means I have to have one or two men on that wing to hit the target…” “I know, Rico. And I got your back. Catalina knows the score, even if she likes to forget it from time to time. I think she forgets sometimes that pimps see these girls as property, and some of ‘em aren’t shy about trying to reclaim their property.” They spent the next half-hour going over the security projections for the next year. Finally Sonny stretched and shook his head. “Sounds like you got things under control, Rico.” “So long’s we move slow and steady I can keep up quality hiring.” He grinned. “Seems like we got a rep with local agencies now. Thing is we gotta watch out for the chumps with records or who got kicked off a force for one reason or another. Every batch of applications I get has at least two or three like that, and it’s goin’ up as budgets get cut.” “Let me know if it starts getting tight. I’d rather slow things down than stretch things too far and have some kind of problem. Keep me in the loop about that Post thing, too. I’ll drop by Legal before I head out and make sure they’re on top of the trespass filings and restraining order.” He smiled. “And tell Gina she might be fielding some nasty calls for a few days once they start screaming about ‘freedom of the press’ and all that.” Rico nodded. It all made sense, but Sonny mentioning Jenny got his mind working again. He needed to be on his game now, and in a world that was dramatically different now that he didn’t have a badge. “We’ll handle it, Sonny.” “Never had a doubt, Rico. I’ll be by tomorrow for the staff meeting and then we can hammer out the details of the contract between us and Roach Sweepers.” Left alone with the hissing HVAC, Rico turned and looked out the window at the manicured grounds. It was after two, so he knew somewhere in the building Mindy and Trudy were putting their heads together to work on the problem he’d handed them. Still, he couldn’t shake one thing. Turning back to his monitor he opened the picture Stan had enhanced and stared at it again. Hector Rendozo. What the hell is it about that chump that seems so damned familiar? He kept staring at the blurry, pixilated face on the screen. What the hell is it?

Ricardo Tubbs waited until they were downstairs to reach out and touch Mindy. “I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t want to be those two chumps right about now.” “No. Especially if Jenny catches up with them.” “You really think she’d…” “In a heartbeat, Rico. She’s very protective of people she loves, and there’s some kind of bond between her and Caitlin. Or Caitlin’s memory.” Mindy shrugged. “My gran might have have been able to explain it. One of those old Irish things is what she said. But Jenny sees this as those two stealing from Caitlin, and I think feeding them to the sharks was only one of the options she considered.” “Just when I think I got a handle on her…” “You can’t get a handle on Jenny, baby.” “Yeah.” He nodded and kissed the top of her head. “You’re right, as usual.” Then he checked his watch. “Crap. I gotta get back down to the office. Stan should be here soon and we got that new system to go over.” Stan was already waiting in one of the overstuffed chairs in Rico’s office. “Gina said you were tied up in that meeting,” he said with a smile. “So I just took a seat. Damned things are comfortable. I need to get one in the back of the roach coach.” “You finally get used to not having the roach on the roof?” “Naw, but some things you just can’t get back. Lester’s got some stuff worked out that’s almost as good as having the camera antennas, though.” Rico motioned toward his open office door. “So show me what you got.” Once they were inside, Stan closed the door and flopped down in one of the chairs across from Rico’s desk. “Lester and I came up with a new way to check for taps on the poles and other distant locations. I think it’ll help keep this place secure, especially if reporters start sniffing around again.” “Yeah.” Rico spun his chair and looked out the wide window Stan had fitted with a trembler to block any laser surveillance. “I don’t get why they’re so bent on tearing a place like this down.” “Same reason they keep writing about the King and Priscilla. Dirt sells papers, Rico. Even if they have to make it up. That and Sonny doesn’t cater to ‘em. No open houses or exclusive inside views for the ten o’clock news here.” Stan’s face changed. “Never mind that some of these girls would die if they got that kind of press. Literally.” “Yeah. But they don’t know that side of it. Not like we do. Or especially Gina.” Rico turned away from the window. “So you got these new toys. How much they gonna dent my security budget?” They talked for about an hour, more for show than anything else. Rico knew Stan would sell them the devices more or less at cost, and Stan knew Rico would pay twice his normal fee for installation and maintenance or tack a bonus onto the contract. Still, Rico also knew Stan appreciated being able to brag about his goods, and what the big guy accomplished was impressive. “So we’ll have ‘em in place by the end of next week.” Stan got to his feet. “I’d love to hang, but I gotta meet Larry at another job. Some rich puke who thinks the IRS is listening to his phones.” “Are they?” “Naw. FBI. But he’s a scumbag so we don’t say anything. Just sweep and grin.” Stan chuckled. “We’re actually going there today to pull our equipment. Soon as we found Federal wires we shut it down.” “Yeah. Let Duddy deal with that heat.” “He skipped town not long after we started. Last I heard he was peddling his wares around Atlanta. Take care, Rico.” “You, too. Say hey to Lester for me.” With Stan gone the office was quiet enough for Rico to hear the air whistling through the HVAC ductwork. He couldn’t explain it, but he always felt a touch of sadness when the former Task Force member left. It was like that Lester, too. He never mentioned it to Mindy, not even to Sonny. But that sadness, and a sense of loss, was there every time. “Stan looked happy.” “Yeah, pretty lady. He’s got a new toy and I’m payin’ good money to let him and Lester have their fun.” He grinned. “But it sounds like it’ll help keep some of the more scummy press chumps out of our business, so it’s worth every penny.” “I’ve got the applications vetted if you want to run through them again.” “Yeah. Then I suppose we’d better start scheduling interviews. I don’t want to be light when they start construction.” “And we’re needing to hire two? The pool’s a bit thin for that.” “Yeah, but there weren’t any red flags aside from the chump with the felony?” “No. Of course I only ran the ones with law enforcement backgrounds. That’s one reason the pool’s so light.” “Yeah, but we gotta go with what’s worked so far.” He took the files. “I’ll read through ‘em again and sort into two pools. One to interview and the other as backup in case the first pool doesn’t result in any hires.” He looked at his wife and smiled. “And then I hear Downbeat has a new combo opening tonight. We can grab some dinner and a show there.” Mindy smiled, the light in her eyes burning right through to his heart. “I’d like that a lot, baby.” Out in the darkness the waves slapped against the sand before sliding back into the ocean. Sitting on his deck, Martin Castillo let the sounds envelope him. The water. Piano notes from inside as Trudy worked on a new composition. Insects calling back and forth in the trees around the house. And another set of sounds only he could hear. For most of his life he’d been in Government service. First the CIA, then a short stop with DEA, and finally Metro-Dade. Decades spent in the shadows doing what some people called the hard things. Castillo never used that term. He preferred necessary things, even though some of what he’d done couldn’t be considered necessary. At least in the comfort of hindsight. Castillo was a man surrounded by ghosts. The hill tribes in Vietnam and Laos had seen that in him, and he found it drew them to him. Old Hmong shamen who wouldn’t say a word to another American would talk to him in broken French and Vietnamese for hours, and he’d found the same when he worked with Montagnards in the south. Even grizzled old Nung warriors like Ti Ti bonded with him in ways they didn’t with most other Americans. It was in those mountains he’d made his peace with the ghosts, including the new ones who came to visit from time to time. Now that he was out of law enforcement they seemed to come closer, more comfortable now than they had been before. Or maybe he was more comfortable with them. Taking a sip of green tea he closed his eyes and listened to the waves, hearing Jess’s voice again in the distance. And Jack’s. He’d never thought before about the significance of Jack reentering his life by the ocean until now. Somehow everything seemed to come back to the waves Jess had valued so highly. The music stopped, and he knew Trudy would soon join him. A smile slipped on his face as he pictured her in his mind. His pearl in the oyster that had been OCB. He also knew she was annoyed her playing wasn’t quite as fluid as it had been before she’d been shot. But physical therapy was helping, and the doctors said in another month or two she’d be back to her pre-injury baseline. She sat down next to him and smiled. “Did I tell you Gina called earlier?” “No, my love.” He used the Vietnamese phrase, rich with far more meaning than its English translation. “Did she have good news?” “I…” She paused. “She asked if I wanted to come on board as an art therapy instructor. Just a couple of days a week. It’s one of the programs they’re thinking of expanding as they build the addition, and…” “You told her you needed time.” He smiled and set down his empty tea glass. “Why didn’t you just say yes?” “I don’t know.” Trudy took a sip of her own tea. “It would be fun working with the girls, and seeing Gina and the rest more often is a bonus, but…” “Memories. I understand. It’s hard to walk away from a thing that meant a great deal and then be reminded of it when you see certain people. Hear certain sounds.” He looked out toward the invisible water. “I understand, my love. But didn’t you say art helped you when you were the age of many of those girls?” “It did. And so did my granny. But you’d better not be saying…” “No. You’re not old enough to be their granny.” He smiled. “But maybe you can pass some of that love of art on to them. Or at least give them a way to express what happened to them without having to talk about it. If they can paint their ghosts, maybe they can start to understand them.” “I’m no teacher.” “No. And maybe that makes you a better teacher. You know what these girls went through on the streets. Very few teachers would understand that. You can relate to them, talk to them in their language.” He thought back to the mountains. “There’s a value there that can’t be explained. Gina knows that. It’s what made her so effective in victim services.” “And I gotta admit it would be nice to be part of something again.” She paused. “I didn’t mean…” “I understand what you meant. We spent most of our lives being part of something bigger than ourselves. When that’s gone…” He stopped for a moment. “It leaves a hole. I think we all feel it in some way or another. If teaching at Caitlin’s House helps you fill that hole, you should do it.” “What about you?” He smiled. “I’m still tired. And enjoying the peace that comes from not being part of something like that. But I might ride in with you to see Crockett and Tubbs. Just to see how they’re doing.” “I’ll call her tomorrow and let her know.” She got to her feet, and Castillo admired her trim figure in the yellow moonlight. “And my shoulder’s stopped aching. I think I’ll go see if I can find a bridge to the next section of that piece. It’s driving me crazy.” He sat immobile until the piano started again. Then he got to his feet and stepped off the deck like a ghost, vanishing into the shadows around the house as if he’d never been sitting there. Out away from the lights things always became more clear for Castillo. Where he could close his eyes and feel like he was back in the mountains of Laos. Or Cuba. Or even Montana where they’d had their honeymoon. And where he could let the ghosts gather round and say their hellos. There were so many. Ti Ti, Gus, and Jess from his old team in Laos. Jack of course. Father Ernesto Lupe, his old civil rights friend killed by his own brother-in-law. Derek, a member of SOG blown to pieces on one of his missions in Laos. A kid he’d called Pancho, his first DEA informant in 1975 who’d been blown by another agent and killed by the runners he was informing on. All people he’d been responsible for in some way and managed to fail. It was a weight he couldn’t really shake, but at least now nothing was adding to it. He’d known it was time to get out when they broke the back of Unit 8. Even Sonny Crockett had recognized the change, but unlike Castillo he didn’t realize how far they’d pushed their luck. Or what the cost would be when the bill came due. And it always came due. He’d learned that for the first time in a smoking hole in the Laotian jungle, and had it reinforced time and again over the years. No matter how good you were, the bill always came due. He could still hear the music, faint notes carrying over the insects and surf sounds hanging in the thick, humid air. He knew he should head back, be on the deck when she finished playing. But he figured he could spend a few more minutes with the ghosts. He owed them that much. After all, they’d made him who he was. Standing, breathing in the night air, he let them envelop him. Gordon Wiggins hated the damp heat of Miami. He’d gotten used to LA’s dry heat, and feeling his own sweat soak his skin always soured his mood. Looking from the street map open on the rental car’s passenger seat to the handwritten address and back again, he clicked on the blinker and made a right turn. At least the Ford’s air conditioner was drying the sweat on his face. He hadn’t expected Haskell to have an office in such a run-down part of town. The last he’d heard Caitlin Davies’ attorney had occupied a suite near the top of one of Miami’s high rise complexes. “How the mighty have fallen,” he muttered as he made another turn and checked the map a final time. He caught a glimpse of his own face in the car’s rear view mirror, partly hidden by big aviator sunglasses, and smiled at the irony of what he’d just said. “How far indeed.” He saw the office sign near the end of one those horrid confections the Americans called strip malls, and swung his car into an open spot close to the door. Inside, he breezed past the awkward middle-aged secretary with a wave of his hand. “Gordon Wiggins. Arthur’s expecting me.” Arthur Haskell sat behind a plywood replica of an oak desk, his big frame somehow shrunken into something less that Wiggins remembered from school and later meetings with the man when the Davies woman had been alive. His eyes were equally diminished. “Gordon! It was good to hear from you. When did you get out? Wait. I know. Stupid question. Have a seat.” “You appear to have had a change in fortune, Arthur.” Wiggins sank into the fake leather chair. “And here I thought you’d be living off the fat of the land.” Haskell snorted, pouring them both drinks from a bottle he produced from a desk drawer. “Oh, we were. Until my idiot partner, junior partner I might add, managed to piss off Caitlin’s widower and get us fired. Then there was…misunderstanding…about a couple of our long-term clients. I was lucky to escape without being disbarred.” “Unlike friend Francis, I hear.” Wiggins sipped the cheap bourbon with appreciation. It wasn’t much compared to the old days, but after Club Fed any booze was good booze. For now. “Yes. There is that.” Haskell drained his glass in a single, long swallow and poured himself another. “Look, I don’t have much to offer you. Gordon. We’re barely making ends meet as it is. Turns out young Watkins has a bit of a knack with divorce cases, and that’s been carrying us.” “Ah, but I might have something to offer you, Arthur.” Wiggins took another sip and looked at the framed diplomas hung crookedly on the wall. The Arthur Haskell he remembered would have had them perfectly aligned and level. But with all that, he was sure Arthur still had money hidden away, likely overseas like he did. Haskell was the kind who planned for the future. “I saw on the news the other day that the Davies house has been turned into some kind of treatment facility.” “Yeah. He put the bulk of the estate behind that. Watkins complained, and Burnett fired us on the spot.” “Ah, yes. Sonny Burnett. The man with a volcanic temper.” Wiggins closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his dealings with the man. “How much do you know about Sonny Burnett?” “Not as much as I’d like. We hired a detective to look into him at one point, and the man came up empty. But that was years ago, and Francis did the hiring.” “Francis must have hired the only deaf and blind detective working in Miami.” Wiggins set down his empty glass and waited for Haskell to pour him another. “Thank you. Now where was I? Ah, yes. Sonny Burnett. The man was in the drug trade when I…knew him. The late, lamented Fremont knew more, and I think the equally late but less lamented Tommy Lowe knew even more. And he’s behind this project?” “Yes. Fully behind it. There are others involved, but he kept them away from us at most meetings.” Haskell set down his glass. “To be frank, Gordon, we were barely involved in any of the actual planning. That…woman who used to look after Ms Davies saw to that.” “Angie.” Wiggins let the name roll off his tongue. A true behemoth of a woman. And a formidable enemy. Firmly on Burnett’s side as I recall. “And she’s next to impossible to get past.” “We noticed that.” Haskell nodded toward the connecting door. “My junior partner had a run-in or two with her before Burnett came along.” “Here’s the thing, Arthur. We, the two of us, made Caitlin Davies. Oh, Paul did his part, and even that louse Lowe. But we were there from the very beginning, you and I. And we were both pushed out by that Burnett fellow.” Haskell chuckled. “Be fair, Gordon. You and Paul did try to kill her.” “That was Paul’s doing.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue. He’d repeated it so many times over the years he almost believed it some days. “He was never a patient man. ‘Just wait,’ I used to tell him, ‘that Burnett’s lifestyle will catch up with him and we’ll be there to sweep up.’ But he didn’t listen.” “Whatever you say, Gordon.” Haskell poured himself another drink. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re cut out of the estate. I looked into it, and legally we don’t have a leg to stand on or a pot to piss in. Burnett hired some former DA named Towers and has the place wired up tight.” “I’m sure he does, Arthur. I’m sure he does.” Wiggins smiled his best snake-oil smile. “But that doesn’t mean he can protect the good name of the house, does it?” “I don’t follow.” “Of course not, Arthur.” Wiggins realized what he’d said and smiled. “I mean it’s obvious Caitlin’s legacy means something to this animal. We might not be able to get control of the estate, but we can ruin it so it’s worthless to him.” “That’s a big plan.” “Had lots of time to think about it, you see.” Wiggins drained his bourbon and slammed the glass down on the desk. “All thanks to that man. I’d hoped you still represented the estate, but that can’t be helped. My plan will still work. We’ll just have to make a few changes.” “I’ll have to think about it, Gordon. This might not look like much, but it’s a living. And a man has to make a living.” Wiggins sighed. “Of course, Arthur. I’ll be in town for a few days yet if you change your mind.” He grabbed one of the cheap business cards from Haskell’s desk and produced a pen from the inside pocket of his suit coat and scribbled on the back. “That’s my hotel and room number. Give me a call if you change your mind.” He smiled and slid the card across the desk. “It really would be a shame to let this opportunity slip away.” “So it was that bad.” Towers looked up from the executive summary of the audit. “Yeah. And they’d been doing it for years.” Sonny turned and looked out the window of Towers’ office. Some days it reminded him of the view from the tenth floor suite the Task Force had called home. “I want them to go down, Gary. And I mean hard.” “We’ve got enough here to go for damages. Serious damages. Lost earnings. You name it.” He chuckled. “I happen to know Francis is doing time now for taking kickbacks from the Mob, so there’s a chance they’ll try to dump it on him.” “The auditors found evidence linking Haskell directly to some of the theft.” Sonny grinned. “Looks like ol’ Francis didn’t trust his partner as much as Haskell thought he did. It’s all outlined in the second section of the audit.” “Good. Look, Sonny, I’ll go through this myself and see what we can manage. I think you were right in aiming for three times the losses, but I don’t know if we’ll get that much. Especially if it’s hidden overseas.” “You let me worry about that part.” He thought back to Jenny’s comment, and knew the resources she could call on if needed. In addition to his own. “Anything we get’s going right into the House trust account. No profit motive here. I just want to make sure the place can keep going no matter what.” “I’ll call you when I have a game plan.” Towers got to his feet. “I’d love to have you stay for lunch, but…” “Yeah. Duty calls and all that, right?” “Nothing that fancy. Just my wife and kid coming by.” “That’s as good as it gets, Gary. Say hello to them for me.” Sonny shook the outstretched hand and turned for the door. It was cool in the garage compared to the heat on the street, and he savored it for a moment before climbing into the Daytona and cranking the ignition. It wasn’t quite the same as the Testarosa, but he could feel the familiar thrill coursing through his veins. And he found he missed it. Slipping on his Ray Bans, Sonny headed into the late morning traffic. His life was good, a damned sight better than he had any right to expect. And he figured that would be the subject of his next stop. He’d found Bobby Crandall through his buddy Robbie Cann, and at first hadn’t known what to make of the skinny counselor with the lined face and squinting old cowboy eyes. But he learned fast that Tex, who’d been a point man and later a scout door gunner in a cavalry squadron down around Saigon, took no shit and suffered no fools. One full tour and three extensions in-country during the hot phase of the war, in not one but two jobs infamous among vets for their high casualty rates, gave Tex every right to take no shit. They’d gone from meeting twice a week to once a week, and now he stopped in every other week. Maybe more if he felt the need. It had been rough at first, and he’d felt like a whining REMF when he found out what Tex had done and where he’d been. But the counselor just grinned. “Ain’t no thing, man. War’s war. Don’t hit no man the same. There’s some who milk it, and you can bet I kick those jokers square in the nuts.” It turned out Caroline had been close to right about getting high on the action. “It’s a rush. Same thing you got when you played ball, I bet. But a hundred times stronger. Some dudes don’t like it. Not one bit. Others…cats like me and I think you…can’t get enough. Hell, there’s gotta be some reason I extended three times an’ went back into the shit.” That conversation had been over a year ago, but Sonny found himself wandering back down the same jungle trail. “You know, Tex, some days I miss it. The rush. That whole feeling you get when you go through a door. Scary as hell, cause you don’t know what’s on the other side, but…” “That rush.” Tex nodded, rocking back a bit in his desk chair. There was a couch in the corner, but he admitted on the first day he used it mostly for naps. “Once it gets in you, man, it don’t want to let go. Latest research says the endorphins spike like you’re doin’ drugs.” “Yeah.” Sonny shook his head. “I thought I had it beat this time, Tex. I really did. Jenny’s cool. She gets it in a way I’ve never seen anyone get it before. And most days I’m good. Hell, better than good. But…” “When you were a ball player you had direction. Same with the Marines. And then being a cop. Hell, you’ve had someone else tellin’ you what to do your whole adult life. And now that’s back on you.” Tex looked at his notes. “And you said you never really started takin’ responsibility until you rejoined Metro-Dade six years back?” “More or less. I was a cowboy, man. Always in a hurry.” “What changed?” “Well…” Sonny dredged up memories he’d rather not look at in the daylight. “I drank myself half to death for about six months and then took a good, hard look. Didn’t like what I saw.” “Bet you heard a drill sergeant yellin’ at you in your sleep.” “Yeah, I think I did. But something told me I had to face up to things I’d done. People who’d…been hurt or even killed because of things I did. Or didn’t do. And I knew I had to come back and try to make as much right as I could.” Tex nodded and made a short note. “This was when that Task Force started, right?” “Yeah. I had to take command once or twice. Hell…no way I could have done that before.” “Not as much fun when you’re holding other peoples’ lives in your hand, is it? I ain’t askin’ that to be an asshole.” “No. You’re right. When you’ve got a team looking to you it really changes how you think about things. At least it should. I know it did me.” “So what’s different now?” “I don’t know.” Sonny leaned back, feeling the overstuffed chair give a bit. “Still got the responsibility with Caitlin’s House and all. And everything was going great. And then Jenny got me the Daytona.” “A reminder of your past.” Tex smiled. “Those aren’t always bad things. Sometimes ya gotta just let ‘em happen.” “Yeah. And I love the car. Ever since my confiscated one got blown up by some redneck gun dealer I’ve missed the damned Daytona. It was like the first sign I’d made it, you know? Into the big leagues of Vice after being in Robbery. I had a Porsche back then, same deal…it was confiscated property. But I was just the flash guy or my partner’s driver. But the Daytona…it was all me. Sonny Burnett. The man with the fast car and fast boat who could make things happen.” “An’ that’s a hell of a rush.” “Yeah. Hadn’t felt a thing like it since I made the starting squad at Miami. Or…” “Your first firefight.” Tex nodded. “Been there too, Sonny. An’ it’s a powerful thing. How do you think you’re handling it?” “Good.” Sonny sighed. “Better than good, really. Jenny might suspect, but that’s because she knows everything. But the others don’t know. Well…maybe Marty.” “Your old boss?” “Yeah. He’s been in it since God knows when.” “Look…you’re doin’ good. Coming here’s a sign of that. You saw you were having some issues and wanted to talk about them.” It always amazed Sonny when Tex shifted from good ol’ boy vet to doctor voice. “Odds are you wouldn’t have done that a year ago. Things from your past are always gonna trip that feeling. And that’s ok. Just stay focused on where you are now and what it took to get there. And maybe most importantly…where you want to go. It’s gonna be harder because of that explosion and the break you had, but you got that under control. I don’t know many dudes who could come through that in one piece.” He smiled. “How is Burnett, by the way?” “Good.” Sonny smiled. They’d talked through the whole Burnett episode and what had happened with the Task Force. “Using that to focus on how we take Caitlin’s House to the next level.” “Right on. And tell me…did Burnett ever get off on the action?” Sonny started to answer, then paused. “No. No, he didn’t. He was always too focused for that.” “Mission-oriented. That’s the part of you that rejects the thrill and looks for results. Hang onto that, Sonny. It’ll help.” Tex looked at his desk clock. “I hate to do it, but I got another appointment comin’ up. Guy’s in a bad way or I’d push it back.” He got to his feet. “I’ll say it again, Sonny. You’re doin’ good. This kind of thing’s normal, especially when you have a life change like you’ve had. Downshifting from the fast lane ain’t always easy, especially once the fast lane gets into your blood. I want you to call if you start having dreams or flashbacks again. Hear?” “You got it, doc.” Sonny shook the offered hand and clapped Tex on the shoulder. “Now I gotta go put the top down and get my fix.” The Daytona shot up the Expressway like it had been fired from a cannon. Sonny watched the road through his Ray Bans, hands light on the wheel as he picked his way through the slower traffic. He could feel the old thrill building in his veins, but this time it was balanced by something else. A kind of understanding.

Jenny was waiting back at the marina, doing some work on Tranquility’s aft mast. “The rigging’s been making a weird squeak,” she explained with a smile as he came on board. “Like she’s out of balance somewhere.” “Yeah.” Sonny kissed her. Jenny was always fussing with the boat. He didn’t mind. She’d spent much of her adult life on one sailboat or another, and for a good part of it her life was bound up in her boat working right. She fussed over the boat just like he still fussed over his Smith & Wessons. Tools of their old trades not easily forgotten. “Gary’s gonna start the process. I told him to go for as much as he realistically thinks we can squeeze from those assholes. He thinks they might have some of it stashed overseas, but…” “You told him that won’t be a problem.” She smiled, touching his arm. “And it won’t be. I still have some banker friends in the islands who can look without being noticed.” “And I’m sure Marty still has a contact or two who might be able to shaking something loose in Switzerland if they got that ambitious.” Sonny looked out over the water, past the rows of bobbing masts at the pure blue water beyond. “But I doubt they did. These punks seem more Caribbean types to me. Caymans, maybe.” “How do you think they’ll take it?” “They’ll whine, but that’s all. Hell, what can they do? The connected one, Francis, is doing time for consorting with the mob. The two that are left are strictly small time. Hell, Watkins wasn’t even a partner in the firm until just before Cait was murdered. Haskell’s the one who goes way back.” “And he has no backbone.” She slipped closer and let her arm slide around him. “But there’s something…we need to be careful.” “Yeah. With that expansion coming up and all the changes we’re gonna have to make…” “No. This is something else.” Jenny looked away. “She warned me. Trouble’s coming.” “Who?” “Caitlin. She said trouble’s coming and we need to be careful.” Sonny paused. Jenny made a habit of visiting Caitlin’s grave from time to time. ‘Letting her know how things are going’ was how she explained it. And there was that…whatever it was about her. At first he’d ignored it, but she’d been right too many times. He’d come to accept she had some kind of insight…something Mindy just called the sight. He couldn’t explain it, but he knew Marty believed it and that was good enough for him. “Just trouble?” “Yes. She doesn’t come as often, now that she sees you’re happy and things are good. But this…she’s scared. And that makes me scared.” “Rico’s in the process of beefing up security. I’ll have him take some extra steps. Stuff others won’t notice, like having Stan and Lester add in some more sensors and sweep more often. As for us…” He patted his big Smith & Wesson, now more commonly found in a hip holster. “We have our permits and I’m still a reserve deputy or whatever the hell it is. Same with the others.” He shook his head. “I tried to let Burnett fade out before I dropped my papers, so I don’t think anyone would be coming after him. But you never know.” “Maybe she means the court fight over the money.” “Could be. But we’ll be careful just the same.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “The House is important. Maybe one of the most important things I’ve done in my life. I’ll protect it any way I can.” “I know. So will I.” She pressed herself against him. “I think I got the rigging fixed. But I won’t know until we take her out.” “How does tomorrow sound? I gotta get some paperwork done for the expansion, and I want to be close when Gary’s ready to file.” “I’d like that. There’s one or two things I’d like to check first, anyhow.” Her hand slid down. “This, for one.” Even though he’d expected it, Gordon Wiggins was still surprised at how few people would even return his calls, let alone agree to meet with him. The music scene in Miami had taken off since Caitlin and that girl with the drums, but they all acted like they’d never heard of him. Even the ones who owed him. “Sorry, Gordon,” one of the few honest ones said. “You’re damaged goods. I’d love to help, but the damned press would be all over me. Hiring the man who tried kill Saint Caitlin.” He’d grimaced. “Don’t tell me they actually call her that now.” “Yeah. Some of ‘em, anyhow. That husband of hers sealed the deal with the rehab place. Take my advice, man. Head back to L.A. Memories are shorter on the coast.” Looking out the window at the waves, Wiggins knew the man was right. Memories, like girls’ skirts, were shorter on the West Coast. Except in his case. Once you get caught, and actually do time, memories become very long indeed. And there was no way he was going north. New York winters were the things of his nightmares. Still, he had a few days in hand. Enough time to see if Arthur would change his mind. The more he heard, the more he was convinced the way to hurt Sonny Burnett and the memory of that strumpet Caitlin was to destroy the name of the facility he’d dedicated in her honor. He’d done a little bit of digging, just enough to build some background without drawing notice. The place had more security than the facility he’d called home for the last few years, and worked almost exclusively with teen-age girls who’d been picked up off the streets by pimps and, to use the American vernacular, ‘turned out.’ Burnett had kept himself firmly in the background, letting two dynamic female doctors take the lead and the microphone. No one could argue with the place’s success percentage, and reporters who’d tried digging too deeply had gotten their fingers burnt. Most of the security were former law enforcement, mostly hired away from state or Federal agencies. It was needed, the doctors said, to protect the girls from their pimps. At first Wiggins hd been convinced the place was a front for some nefarious activity or another, but the more he dug the less he found. Caitlin’s House, disturbingly enough, was a treatment center. Sipping his drink and looking out at the Miami heat, he muttered a low curse. Damn Burnett for being a smart man. The worst thing was, he was at the point where he actually needed Haskell. His own less-savory Miami contacts were years old and likely swept up by either the police or their competition. If he was going to gather more information, he needed fresh sources. And those would have to come from Haskell. Looking down at his empty glass, Wiggins turned and headed for the small refrigerator. He’d have one more drink and then head down to the boring hotel restaurant for dinner. He had just started to pour when the room phone rang. “Gordon. We need to talk.” “Of course, Arthur. Why don’t you come to the hotel for dinner? Their surf and turf is outstanding.” Feeling a smile on his face, Wiggins hung up the phone and downed his drink. The desperation in Haskell’s voice had been thick enough to touch. Maybe he’d have a chance after all. “Can you believe the gall, Gordon?” Haskell waved a forkful of steak in Wiggins’ general direction. “The total gall.” Actually he could. “So let me get this right, Arthur. You and friend Francis absconded with over ten million dollars over the years from the estate of Caitlin Davies and you’re surprised this Burnett is coming after it? Did you really think he’d just smile and ignore the fact that you stole from his wife and then him by extension?” Haskell lowered his fork and shook his head. “When you put it that way…it does sound rather stupid, doesn’t it?” “A bit, yes.” More than a bit, you idiot. “And his lawyer is suing you for how much?” “Thirty million. Me, Francis, and Watkins. Watkins started drinking before the process server could shut the door and I think he’s passed out in the office bathroom by now.” “I expect they had proof?” “Burnett had the estate audited. Going all the way back. And I mean ALL the way. Which means they found Tommy Lowe’s skimming, and maybe yours and Fremont’s, too.” They won’t have found any of mine. Fremont always handled the Davies account. Bless him. “I don’t see what you expect me to do, Arthur.” Wiggins smiled and chewed a forkful of lobster. “I’m but a simple ex-con, remember?” He smiled again, glad he’d picked out a table toward the back. “You said you had a plan. Something about wrecking the reputation of that damned house.” Haskell looked around. “I’m in, Gordon. This damned thing is gonna break me. Watkins, too. But I’m not going down alone, by God. Saint Caitlin’s going down with me.” It was all Wiggins could do to keep his face set. “Then let’s get down to it, Arthur. I may need to avail myself of some of your local contacts. Actually I know I will. Mine are a bit…dated, shall we say. And I’m sure you know the right sort of people, don’t you, Arthur? But I think I have a plan…” “I just wish I could have been there to see their faces.” Sonny looked up from the balance sheet he’d been trying to decode. “Yeah. So do I.” Jenny crossed from the galley to sit beside him. “I’m surprised you didn’t take this forward to the office.” “Light’s better here.” He smiled, feeling her firm body beside him. “And I can’t watch your ass in those shorts if I’m up there.” “Just my ass?” “You know better than that.” He chuckled. “And I don’t know why I’m looking at it, honestly. This stuff doesn’t mean squat to me. Numbers on a page. Hell, you’re the smart one. I want to college to play ball, remember?” “Then we can play football star and his study partner.” She ran her hand along his shoulder. “I’d like that. But it still doesn’t mean these numbers…” She kissed his cheek. “It’s not too hard. Think of it as a drug deal. That set’s the raw product coming in, and over here is what you can sell it for once it’s cut. Those numbers are shipping cost, the cut you pay the runners…” “Now you’re talkin’ my language.” He shook his head. “But it don’t say much for my life if the only way I can understand a balance sheet is by lookin’ at it like Burnett’s business.” She smiled, and then her eyes changed. “What do you think they’ll do?” “The lawyers? Hell, Francis is already in prison so he can’t do much more than cough up the part of his estate that didn’t get seized when he was convicted. Haskell and Watkins? They’ll whine and try to fight, but we had the audit done by one of the best firms in the state. And Gary’s hell on wheels in the courtroom. I’ve seen him prosecute cases against some of the top defense attorneys in the southeast and come out on top. Sometimes with less evidence than we gave him. I think we’ll get close to what they stole in the end. I don’t know if they have that much money between the three of them these days.” Her nod was halfhearted. “I hope you’re right, Sonny. I really do. But she’s still worried. We need to be careful.” “I know, baby.” He slid his arm around her, the balance sheets fading from his mind. “And we will be. I’ve been thinkin’ about this since you first said something, and I just don’t know what they could do. Maybe stir up some old enemies of mine…or Burnett’s, but most of them are either in jail, dead, or too small-time to do much more than spray paint ‘pig’ on the side of the Daytona. And they don’t know enough about you to even begin to find enemies. And I fired them before any of the others came in. I’ll talk to Rico before we head out to sea and let him know the score.” He let his arm slide off her shoulder and reached for the phone. “How does Sanctuary sound?” Robbie’s club had changed a bit over the years, the decor losing some of its ‘80s purple and getting darker and more formal. But the staff still called him ‘Mr. Burnett’ and there was a standing reservation on a table in the back good until eight most nights. When the Task Force was still active they’d been here many nights. It wasn’t as common now, but Sonny made it a point to keep in touch with Robbie Cann. He’d let the bond break once, and sworn he’d never repeat that mistake. The big doorman greeted him with a smile. “Mr. Burnett. Mr. Cooper and his wife are already at the table.” “Thanks, Rick.” Sonny slipped the big man a fifty. “Been a while.” “It has. Been quiet so far tonight. And they got the good cook working.” He could just see Mindy’s red hair through the low lighting. Robbie had banned indoor smoking about six months back, making it easier to see details at a distance. The change hadn’t bothered Sonny…he’d cut back to maybe one or two Luckies a week at most and was even thinking about changing to a pipe. Then Rico’s laugh cut through the mid-level music and they headed over. “So I hear the chumps got their papers today.” Rico grinned around the rim of his scotch glass. “And Gary said they already got the go-ahead to sieze what they could from Francis’s frozen assets. I guess that chump had a couple of million stashed in the Dutch Antilles somewhere. But Haskell an’ Watkins are gonna fight it.” Sonny sat down, letting Jenny slide in first so she was next to Mindy. “I bet Gary just loved that.” “He did. He said somethin’ about getting them disbarred at the same time. Feels like he’s treatin’ it like one of those Klan cases he used to catch.” “He might be. He’s really invested in the goals of the House now.” Sonny looked over at Jenny, now deep in whispered discussion with Mindy. “I wanted to talk to you about uppin’ security during all this. Both physical and electronic.” “You got it partner.” Rico’s eyes followed Sonny’s. “Someone got a feeling?” “Yeah. Direct from Cait this time.” “I’ll throw as much security on as we can manage. I don’t want to add too many new guys, especially if it’s only temporary. With the economy like it is I don’t wanna get a guy’s hopes up an’ then let him go.” “I don’t, either. Look…why don’t you hire as many as we’ll need to cover the new stuff once it comes on-line? Tell ‘em it might be part time now for training purposes, but will transition to full time as the unit starts to open.” “Good idea. That’ll bring another five or six guys in. I can do the same thing with the electronic side. Stan and Lester can start playing with their toys early and then locate ‘em where they’ll need to be as the construction is completed.” “Good.” Sonny nodded as the waitress arrived with his lone Black Jack. These days he started with one bourbon and switched to beer if he kept drinking at all. Then he leaned over. “Personally I can’t think of anyone those two bozos could use to hurt us, but you know Jenny’s feelings…” “Yeah. Ain’t no way I’m gonna ignore one of those.” Rico smiled, and Sonny could see the lines on his face. “Hey. I hear she bought you another Daytona.” “Yeah. Don’t know where the hell she found it, but it’s a black convertible. Just like the old days.” “One of the few things that is, I guess.” Rico shook his head. “That reminds me. Robbie stopped by when we got here. Asked if we could come back to his office as soon as we got settled in.” Sonny nodded. “Sure. Did he look like something was wrong?” “You know Robbie better than me, man. Would you play poker with him?” “No, Rico. I would not.” Taking a sip of the bourbon, he turned to Jenny. “Robbie asked us to stop by for a couple of minutes, babe. You two good here?” She smiled. “Sure, Sonny. Mindy and I are just setting up some range time.” Rico gave Sonny his familiar ‘what can you do’ look. “She’s been after me, but I ain’t had time in a week or so.” Mindy giggled, her blue eyes sparkling. “We’ll make it a girls’ morning. Since I hear you two are going sailing again.” “Yeah.” Sonny turned to Rico. “Let’s go see what Robbie wants.” If the club had grudgingly changed with he times, Robbie Cann’s office remained firmly planted in 1989, complete with the Night Ranger poster Sonny had seen the first time he’d walked through the door. Robbie got up from behind his desk as soon as they came in, slapping bear hugs on both men in turn. “Rico! Sonny! It’s been too long!” “Coupla weeks, maybe.” Sonny chuckled, slapping Robbie on the back. “But yeah, that is too long. How you been?” “Good.” He turned to the security camera monitors on the far wall. “See you got another Daytona. That must have set you back.” “I don’t know. Jenny bought it for me. She won’t say a damned thing about where she found it or how much it cost. And maybe I don’t wanna know the answer to either question.” “Fair enough.” Robbie waved his hand toward the stack of reports on his desk. “God knows a man gets tired of wading through the numbers. But my old man beat that into my head. ‘Always check the accountants, Robbie’ he’d say when he was going through the mob stuff.” He chuckled. “Guess I did learn something of value from the family business after all.” “Could have saved myself a whole lot of bother if I’d learned the same lesson, but I was too busy playin’ ball and chasin’ tail.” He filled Robbie in about the lawsuit. “But you didn’t call us back here to catch up on all that,” he finished. Rico nodded. “Yeah. We coulda done that at the table over some of that shrimp you got featured tonight.” “Yeah.” He waved them to chairs. “Take a seat.” Once he was back behind his desk he started hitting buttons on the computer keyboard. “You know how I like to keep tabs on things, Sonny?” “Yeah. Smart thing to do since you testified against your own family.” “True. But I do it for you guys, too. Kinda my hobby to see how your aliases ebb and flow. We get all kinds in here, and time to time back in the old days you two would come up. Usually Burnett, but sometimes Cooper or the Rasta guy.” “Prentiss. Teddy Prentiss, mon.” Rico smiled. “Yeah. That guy.” Robbie chuckled. “It’s been quiet the last year or so. They all seem to figure you got fed to the sharks or retired. Hell, there was even a rumor the two of you headed to LA to start over. But that was mostly in the first year.” He stopped punching buttons and spun his chair so he could see one of the monitors. “Until the other night.” Sonny looked at the flickering monitor. “What happened?” “Those two at the bar? They came in asking about Sonny Burnett. If he’d been in lately.” Robbie grinned. “My guys know the score. They didn’t say a damned thing, but let me know right away. We didn’t get a good look at ‘em, and they paid for their drinks in cash so there’s no paper trail.” Sonny watched them move through narrowed eyes. “They know the camera’s there and keep shifting to avoid it. Never saw much of that back in the day.” “Naw. These chumps know the score.” Rico turned to Robbie. “They only ask about Burnett? And did your people get any kinda vibe off them?” “Just Burnett. Sorry, Rico. Your fame didn’t precede you that night. We were busy, so the bartender didn’t remember much. But Rick on the door? He thought they had narco all over ‘em. Lots of gold on display, and he was pretty sure they were carrying. Like Scarface in cowboy boots is how he talked about them.” Sonny nodded, remembering some of the guys they’d run into while taking down Unit 8. “Yeah. That narco cowboy look was starting to come in when we got out of the game. Those two don’t look like kids, though.” “Rick put ‘em both in their forties. Old enough to maybe have done some business with Burnett and Cooper.” “Can we get a copy of that tape? I’d like to have Stan run it through some of his toys and see if we can get a better look at those two.” “Figured you’d ask so I already had one made up.” Robbie pulled a black plastic box out of his desk drawer. “Got a copy on one of those new CD disks, too, if it’ll help.” “I’ll take ‘em both. God knows what Stan and Lester are playing with these days.” Robbie nodded. “Gotta admit it feels kinda good to get some excitement in here again. Things haven’t been the same since you guys retired and those two cowboys headed back to Montana. And they took my best waitress with ‘em. Dave did, anyhow. How are they, by the way? I hear from Debbie from time to time, but…” Sonny chuckled. “Yeah. I was never sure both of them knew how to write. Last I heard they were doin’ good, though. Back on the force in Butte. I think they might be coming back this way for a conference or something.” “If they do, you gotta bring ‘em by. Be good to see them again.” Robbie looked around the office and sighed. “The Stones had it right, Sonny. What a drag it is getting old.” Rico nodded. “Yeah. If you let it be a drag. But I know what you mean. It’s hard to change gears after spending years in the fast lane. The Job gets in your blood and don’t want to let go. Hell, we’re both still in the reserves.” “Just can’t quit it completely.” Sonny smiled and shook his head. “That and it makes concealed carry a hell of a lot easier.” “Yeah, I get it. Kinda like this club.” Robbie looked around the office. “You know, when we opened it was the proudest day of my life. Until my son was born. Kept this place going with sweat and blood. But now…some days it would be nice to walk away and find something else to do.” “Is business down?” “Naw. No more than anyone else around here. Times ain’t what they used to be, but I can make it through that.” His smile was thin, and Sonny could see a touch of sadness in his friend’s eyes. “It’s more like it ain’t fun any more. Not as many bands, and too many punks like those assholes in cowboy boots.” “You got a good manager, right? Take some time off, Robbie. Hell, we all need it now and then. Take the family someplace nice and just be with them.” “Now you sound like me, Sonny.” Robbie chuckled. “But maybe you’re right. Hell, we haven’t had a real vacation in years. Couldn’t afford it before, and once I testified it just wasn’t safe for a few years.” “You know Angie, right? Give her a call and have her set something up.” Rico nodded. “That woman’s a genius with vacations, honeymoons, you name it. She’ll get you just what you need.” “And it’s on me. Just go be with your family.” Sonny raised his hand as Robbie started to sputter. “Don’t bitch about it. You footed enough booze bills for us back with the Task Force. Consider this payback.” He pulled out a card for Caitlin’s House and scribbled a number on the back. “Call tomorrow and tell her Blondie said it’s all set. She’ll work her magic from there.” “Blondie?” “Yeah. She’s called me that forever. Jenny’s Little Blondie.” Sonny shook his head. “The woman has a thing about using peoples’ real names. Except for Castillo.” “Yeah. I didn’t think even she would be that stupid.” Robbie took the card and smiled. “I’ll call her first thing, Sonny. And…” “Don’t mention it, pal. We’re buddies, remember? Besides, it’s the least I can do. I owe you for Tex, too.” “He’s something, isn’t he?” “Yeah. And we’d better get back out there before Jenny and Mindy start ripping this place apart looking for us.” Jenny smiled as they approached the table. “Robbie got you talking, didn’t he?” “Yeah. Somethin’ like that.” Sonny slipped back into his seat and put his arm around her. “But I’m sure you two had plenty to talk about without us around.” Mindy nodded, and Sonny thought he saw a bit of blush highlighting her freckles. “Oh, you know. Just girl talk is all. I was telling Jenny that Debbie called me the other day. Dave and Randy are supposed to be flying back for some law enforcement conference.” “Yeah. Randy said something about that last time I talked to him, but he wasn’t sure.” “It’s a done deal now.” Mindy smiled. “They conned their sheriff into footing the bill to send both of them. Something about networking, I think she said was the line they used.” “Sounds like something those two jarheads would pull. Still, if they do make it I gotta say it’ll be good to see them both.” Rico nodded. “Yeah. Been over a year now, hasn’t it?” “Damned near.” Sonny reached out for the menu. “I don’t know about you kids, but I’m gettin’ damned hungry. Let’s get some food ordered.” The sun was little more than a thin red line of memory on the horizon when Sonny pulled the Daytona into his familiar spot and shut off the engine. Beside him, Jenny stretched and sighed. “That was really nice, Sonny. It’s good to see Mindy and Rico again.” “Yeah. I gotta admit I still ain’t used to not seeing his ugly mug every morning.” “I know. But I do like not worrying every time you drive off.” “I know, darlin’. I know. Just feels strange after all those years is all.” He grinned as he got out of the convertible. “But comin’ home to you makes it all worthwhile.” “I missed it at first, too, Sonny.” She came around the car and stood beside him, looking down the darkened marina to the twin masts of Tranquility. “The rush I’d get every time I slipped past the Coast Guard with a stolen painting or statute some rich person paid too much for. But now I feel that every time one of those girls finishes a treatment plan at Caitlin’s House.” “So do I.” Slipping his arm around her, he started down toward the boat. “All those years I spent hauling those girls off the streets, out of gutters, or zipping their dead bodies into bags…it’s really something to see them smile when they see they’ve got a life ahead of them. And a real chance.” They walked in silence for a time until they were almost to Tranquility. “What else did Mindy say? Don’t forget, I spent years pretending to be a detective and you’re too quiet.” She smiled and stopped at the foot of the gangplank. “Promise you won’t say a word to Rico? They’re trying to get pregnant.” “Don’t worry. I won’t say a word to him and I’ll act surprised as hell when he finally spills the beans.” Sonny’s smile was genuine. “I was wondering how long it would take. At least they waited until they had some fun first.” “I think it’s good for them both.” She turned and looked out over the water. “Maybe…if things were different…” “It’s ok, Jenny. Hell, I never did too good in the dad department. Not something I want to go back and try again.” “I know we talked about that before. It’s still not important to you?” “No. I screwed up with Billy, and I’ll never know what might have happened with Will.” He pulled her closer, feeling her warm body against his side. “I’m happy with just the two of us, darlin’.” “So am I.” She shivered. “But she’s still warning me. Something’s coming.” “Robbie said a couple of guys were in a few nights back asking about Burnett. He gave us copies of the tapes, and Rico and I are gonna look through them tomorrow. Maybe see if Stan and Lester can work some magic on the images. I don’t think it’s anything important, but it’s been a few months since anyone asked about Burnett.” He kissed the top of her head. “But now I think we’d better turn in. Gonna be a long day tomorrow. I want to go through that budget with the rest of the staff before we take Tranquility out again.”

Sonny was still grinning like a kid when he pulled the Daytona into his usual parking spot at the marina. “Man! I’d forgotten how much fun it is to drive with the top down.” “Not me.” Jenny smiled as she pulled her t-shirt back on. She’d taken both it and the bikini top off just after they’d left Pete’s restaurant. “Driving or sailing is always more fun with the top down.” “You’re just lucky the old guy in the Caddy didn’t run into that light pole back on the Intercoastal.” Sonny started down the dock toward Tranquility. It felt good to be going home. “That’s probably the most fun he’s had in years.” She giggled and ran ahead of him. “I’ll get ready to cast off.” Smiling, he let her go. He liked watching her run, and he also knew she’d get the boat ready faster than he could. Jenny was a natural on the water, like she’d been born to it and only came on shore when she needed more beer. He couldn’t think of any place more natural for them to live than on Tranquility. For most of his undercover life he’d lived at least part time on a 42 foot sailboat. The St. Vitus Dance was now one of the therapy tools available to Caitlin’s House, along with Jenny’s Vellamo. Now they called the renovated 60-foot, two masted Tranquility home. Once owned by a smuggler rival of Jenny’s, she’d redone most of the interior and turned it into the most comfortable refuge Sonny could imagine. She’d already cast off the side lines by the time he was aboard and was in the process of starting the diesel auxiliary engine. “We’ll move out under power,” she said as the engine coughed to life. “Then I’ll unfurl the sails.” She tugged at her t-shirt. “And other things.” He shrugged off his jacket. “Need a hand?” “Not yet. Why don’t you go below and get some drinks ready?” She slipped behind the polished brass wheel, spinning it slightly as Tranquility eased away from the dock. It was cool below decks, and Sonny headed through the salon to the starboard side berth Jenny had converted into what she called the ‘Memory Room.’ The mahogany walls were covered with framed pictures from both their pasts, and a comfortable sideboard couch let you sit and take it all in. Pictures of her in a prom dress shared space with a photo from his wedding to Caitlin, yet she made it all seem so natural. She’d never been jealous of Cait, and encouraged him to remember her. “She made you the man I love,” she said more times than he could count. “How could I not love her?” There were also pictures from Vietnam, him and Robbie Cann trying to look like brave Marines for the camera but coming off as scared boys away from home for the first time. Some of her in the Islands during her career smuggling art, often working on Vellamo with the same care she showered on their new home. And right in the middle of it all was a picture of the entire Task Force, including Brick’s high-risk warrant team and Pete Washington. Robbie was there, too, since the photo was taken in his club. Their last party as an official unit. Sighing he turned and headed back through the salon to the galley. Going into the Memory Room was one of his little rituals when he came back to the boat. A thing to remind him of where he’d come from and what had happened along the way. He could hear the waves slapping against the hull and feel the boat rise slightly with the sea as she guided Tranquility away from the shelter of the marina and into the open ocean. Soon, he knew, she’d cut the motor and unfurl the main sail. Running against the onshore breeze to put some distance between them and Miami. Pulling bottles from the rack above the sink, he felt a smile slipping onto his face. He was happy. And he’d been happy for going on two years. Actually, if he was honest with himself, he’d been happy longer than that. It started when he came back to Miami with Rico and picked up the badge again, joining the then-new Task Force. But it really took hold when a slightly bedraggled blonde in a thin white t-shirt had walked down the dock to the St. Vitus Dance and shared a six-pack of beer with him. Their seagoing drink was orange juice and rum, a combination of the Islands and Florida that appealed to her sense of humor. But it was good on the rocks, and Sonny could nurse one for as long as it stayed cold. Still, he made it in a larger pitcher…some nights Jenny had more than one or two. He’d cut back, even more since he left the force, but there were nights he traded drinks with her out on the water. We both have our demons he thought as he stirred the rum into the orange juice with a long glass rod. Some days more than others. The shore was a distant memory by the time he got back on deck. She’d cut the engine and switched over to the main sail. He could hear the canvas crack as it caught the wind and ropes groan as she shifted the rigging to pull them away from land. With everything set, she’d also tossed her shirt aside, and she smiled at him from the settee next to the polished wheel. “It’s about time you got up here. I was getting thirsty.” “I’d say keep your shirt on, but it’s too late for that.” Grinning, he handed her a full glass and sank into the cushions beside her, making sure the pitcher was secure on the railed table. “And no, I ain’t complaining.” “Good.” She snuggled up against him, taking a sip of her drink and sighing. “I’ve got the course plotted so we can swing back in and tie up at the house later. Or in the morning.” “I like the sound of morning.” He slipped his arm around her, feeling her hair drape across his skin. “But I gotta admit it was good seeing Pete again.” “Yes. He’s happy now. And so are Martin and Trudy. It’s good to see everyone happy.” “Yeah.” He sipped his drink, feeling the bite of the rum on his tongue. “It really is.” The routine was comforting. They’d have a drink or two, haul in some of the sails while he made dinner and they ate below, then raise sail again and go until the night took them fully in its embrace. Then they’d drop sail and make love topside before going below. If anyone had told him five years ago this is what his life would look like now, he would have told them they were crazy. Or worse. Hell, even three years ago. He looked over at Jenny, her slim body highlighted by the setting sun as she watched the waves. And if anyone told me I’d love someone as much as I loved Cait I would have shot them. But here we are. The flight had been long, and now Gordon Wiggins waited with the rest of the swine from his flight around the carousel waiting for his bag to clatter out of whatever hell the airline had consigned it to. At least I won’t have to smell that cow’s perfume any more he thought, looking across the room at the big woman with bad hair and a stained Disney World t-shirt waiting with her equally-horrid family. Bag finally in hand, he headed for the exit and flagged down one of the line of cabs waiting in their queue. “The Hilton,” he muttered to the driver and slumped in the back seat next to his lone bag. First he’d get comfortable and then start looking for the reason he’d come to Miami in the first place. He’d picked the Hilton for the simple reason he knew what he’d get from the moment he walked into the lobby until he was settled in his room and opened the mini-fridge and looked for a drink. Predictable. And enough luxury to let him forget about the Club Fed he’d called home for the last few years, even for a moment. Tossing his bag on the room’s queen-size bed, he plucked a small bottle of scotch from the fridge and made himself a drink while he looked out the big bay window at a city he’d always despised. But there was no helping it. He couldn’t do what he needed to do from Los Angeles or even New York City. The phone book on the room’s desk was missing pages were previous occupants had torn them out, but he found what he was looking for in the ‘Lawyers’ section. Running a finger down the thin yellow paper he stopped at the name and grinned, taking another drink. “You sly old dog. I figured you’d still be in the game,” he muttered, his words almost lost in the newscast blaring from the big television. It was too late to call today, but he knew what he’d be doing in the morning. By the time the room service waiter arrived with his steak dinner, he’d unpacked his bag and had a second drink. He ate in front of the window, sneering at the splashes of neon popping up like dandelions as the city switched from day to night. Still, the view wasn’t bad considering no bars blocked his view. He’d started on his third hotel room bottle when the late local news came on, leading off with a story about some feel-good charity for wayward girls. Wiggins snorted, and was about to change the channel when the plastic blonde reading the news said the name. “Caitlin’s House was recognized…” His hand froze on the remote until the story ended. “So that’s what the place turned into.” He’d changed over to some old Western with Randolf Scott beating hell out of a bad guy, but the story stuck in his head. “I wonder if her widower is still involved. Surprised he didn’t trade the dump for a case of that swill he used to drink.” Maybe tomorrow’s call would be easier than he thought. Now he had a target. Even though it wasn’t quite light out, Stanly Switek had been up for an hour or so. Coffee bubbled its way through the coffee maker, and he checked the bacon frying in the pan before giving it a final turn and fishing the strips out to drain on folded paper towels on top of old newspaper. His mother may not have done much to protect him from his father, but she’d done her best to teach Stan how to cook. He was the first to admit not much of it had stuck except for bacon and coffee. Buttering toast, he stacked slices on two plates, bracketing them with bacon and scrambled eggs mixed with salsa from the night before. Gina was still asleep on the second floor of their tidy town house. It was a hell of a change from their walk-up apartment, and Stan was the first to admit Sonny Crockett had made it possible when he’d hired Gina away from victim services and then put him and Lester on contracted retainer for Caitlin’s House security. The bedroom had a view of the ocean if you squinted hard enough, but what he really liked was its isolation from the kitchen. He could surprise Gina with breakfast in bed, something he couldn’t do in any of their apartments. Breakfast had been an afterthought. Pouring coffee, he let his mind float back to his real reason for being up. He and Lester had been working on new ways to check for electronic surveillance devices, and he’d been tinkering with a unit in the first floor bedroom that had become his home workshop. They were close to a breakthrough, and any time that happened Stan found himself sleeping less as ideas kept popping into his head. Sunlight streamed through the slatted blinds covering the bedroom’s balcony door, and he set the tray down on his side of the bed before leaning over and kissing Gina on the forehead. “It’s not fried peanut butter banana sandwiches, but I brought you breakfast.” She blinked up at him, still working sleep from her eyes and mind. “And it’s a good thing it’s not, Stanley Switek. I’d hate to throw a perfectly good meal at you. What time is it?” “About ten seconds before your alarm goes off.” Stan grinned as the beeping started. “Ok, maybe later than that.” “And I’ve got the quarterly review this morning.” She stretched, letting the sheets fall away from her body. “I can see a quarter I’d like to review right now.” He grinned and shifted the tray. “But you’d better eat if you want to get in on time. Those dog and pony shows always take longer than you think.” “Tell me about it.” She took a sip of coffee and smiled. “At least Sonny and Jenny aren’t big on the formal parts. But you can’t slip a thing past Jenny and Angie.” “Yeah. I remember the story you told me about that one counselor who tried.” Stan chuckled and picked a slice of bacon from the tray. She nodded. “And I felt you get up earlier. How’s that project coming?” “I tired not to wake you up.” He reached over and ran a finger along her cheek. “Sorry about that. But you know how it is when I get an idea… Anyhow, it’s almost done, I think. Lester and I will run some tests later at the shop, but it’s almost there.” “I won’t ask because I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She smiled. “But it’s good it’s almost done. I know that silly thing’s been giving the two of you fits for weeks.” “Yeah. And it’s the kind of thing Lar might have been able to crack in a couple of days. He had this way with that kind of stuff.” Stan shook his head. “But then again maybe not. Lester’s really good with the passive stuff and he couldn’t crack it right away.” In the last couple of years he’d really come to appreciate his partner’s expertise with surveillance gear, especially on the electronics theory side. Stan was an ace at assembly and packaging, but he knew he came up short on the theory side. Lester, on the other hand, was damned good. Better than Larry Zito had been. And Stan, the new Stan, was man enough to admit it. Chewing his bacon, nodding from time to time as Gina talked about what she was going to present at the meeting, Stan took stock. Usually when he was joking around with Lester he’d talk about the old Stan and the new Stan, but in many ways it was true. Back with OCB he’d been bitter, especially after Larry was murdered, and then his gambling spun out of control. Most days it was like a bad dream…one he’d taken years to wake up from. Then they’d gotten on the Task Force and everything changed. Especially Sonny. If someone had told him before he’d enjoy working with Sonny Crockett he would have laughed in their face. But Sonny’s time away from OCB had changed him, and Stan had grown enough to admit that. And there’d also been Gina… The thought of her drew him out of his own thoughts and back to the room. She was still talking about the presentation between bites of eggs and bacon. They’d both changed in the year Sonny and Rico had been gone. She’d left OCB for a post with Victims’ Services, and moved in with him not long after. Their love had come out of nowhere, even though looking back Stan could see it had been taking root for years. Not unlike Trudy and Castillo’s, but different in its own way. Gina had carried a torch for Crockett, and Stan had always imagined her out of reach. But that had started to change when Caitlin was murdered and Sonny went to pieces. And now here they were. Married, with jobs neither one of them would have considered possible four years ago. With lives they wouldn’t have considered possible. Without tasting it he took a drink of coffee and finished his eggs. “You haven’t heard a word I said!” “Uh…I gotta be honest. No. I was thinking about how lucky we are. How amazing all this is.” “I know.” She touched his arm. “I think about that every day.” “Yeah. I get caught up in stuff an’ don’t think maybe as much as I should about that.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. “But I heard enough of what you said. You really think they’ll be able to expand next year?” “I do. Fundraising has been good. You wouldn’t believe the prices some of Trudy’s paintings get! And Mindy’s been able to tap into some sources we couldn’t really touch before. Boston money. And Jenny said she’d match some contributions with money from her trust fund.” She sat up in bed, the covers falling completely away. Stan almost choked on a bite of toast when he saw her body. “If we can get the addition done we can start treating boys.” “Good. God knows they need help, too.” He felt his cheeks get warm when she saw him staring and smiled. “I’ll get the tray cleaned up and then maybe we can get you showered.” She smiled and touched him. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Sonny passed through security at Caitlin’s House without a hitch, insisting the guards check his concealed carry permit even though they knew him personally. They did the same with Jenny. “No one gets a break,” he told every guard as soon as Rico finished their orientation. “Not me, not your mother, not Rico’s mother. No one. Check us all like it’s our first time through. Every time. That’s how we keep these girls safe and help them recover.” After he’d fired one for not taking it seriously, a former State Trooper no less, the rest decided Sonny meant business. After he’d been cleared, things relaxed. Some of them he knew from his time with Metro-Dade, others from the Marshal’s Task Force. Most had been with the House since it opened, and shared his commitment to its success. Jenny slipped her arm around his waist, her figure shown to advantage in a slight white cotton dress. “Are you ready for an hour of numbers?” “No. Never am.” He pulled off his sunglasses and slipped them into the pocket of his white linen blazer. “But I know they gotta add up for us to get this where it needs to go, so here I am.” He looked down at her and smiled. “Did the accountants finish the audit of the estate?” “About a week ago. Angie’s still looking through it and then she’ll give it to me.” Jenny’s blue eyes went hard. “I think we’ll end up suing those bastards. It sounds like they took more of Caitlin’s money than they should have.” Sonny felt a stab of anger shoot through his body. “If they did, I’ll close them down for good. Is that why the audit took so long?” “Angie said yes. She said they went back years. Before…” Jenny’s voice trailed off. “Before you were married.” “Good. I didn’t know she’d had them that long.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “And anything we get from them goes back into the House.” Angie hadn’t changed a bit since the first time he’d laid eyes on her. She still squeezed herself into animal print dresses and wore heels about an inch higher than was considered safe or advisable. And she was still one of the most formidable people he’d ever met. Man or woman. “Blondie! Little Blondie! Angie didn’t expect you so early.” Jenny laughed and hugged the bigger woman. “Don’t be silly, Angie. I told you we’d be early.” “Yeah, but Blondie don’t move so good in the morning.” Angie looked over Jenny’s head at Sonny and winked. “Least he didn’t used to.” “I haven’t had a hangover in over a year, Angie.” He winked back. “And I ain’t that old yet.” “I’m proud of him.” Jenny smiled and then changed the subject. Sonny was used to her conversational jumps by now. “How do the numbers look?” “Little Blondie don’t have to worry none about that. And the report’s ready about that other business. I expect Blondie’s gonna be fit to be tied when he reads it. Angie sure as hell is.” Jenny nodded. “We’ll talk about that after this. But now I want to know about fundraising…” Sonny just tagged along behind, letting them talk their weird numbers language while he took in the changes still going on around him. The house he and Caitlin had shared ever so briefly was unrecognizable now, the big entryway given over to the security post and reception desk barring entry to the rest of the building. One wing was given over entirely to secure rooms for the girls, another to classrooms and therapy rooms, and a small medical clinic rounded out the first floor. Administration was on the expanded second floor, along with more security and offices for key staff. They’d connected the guest house with a corridor last year, adding more therapy locations and a second, smaller housing unit. As they climbed the stairs to the conference room, he still had the ability to wonder at it all. What started as a simple conversation had grown into this, and it was poised to keep going. The box set of Caitlin’s music they released last year had been a hit, with the profits going back into Caitlin’s House and the surviving members of her band. Sonny had even endowed a music scholarship in the name of Will, her murdered bass player. After failing so miserably to protect her from Hackman, it was the least he could do. “You don’t have to beat yourself up, you know. She forgives you.” “What?” He stopped and looked up at Jenny standing at the top of the stairs. “She forgives you. She always has. And she loves all this.” Then she turned and continued on with Angie as if she’d never said a word. How the hell does she do that? She’d been doing things like that almost from the moment they’d met, and he’d long ago told himself to stop trying to figure it out. But every time she did, he still tried to puzzle it out. And each time he’d come up empty. Smiling, he remembered what Rico had told him when she first blew into his life. Just roll with it, partner. Yeah. Easier said than done sometimes. Gina sat near the head of the table, talking with Gary Towers, the former DA Sonny had retained as the lawyer for Caitlin’s House and the estate after he’d fired the old team. She looked up and smiled when they came in. “We’ll start in a couple of minutes. Mindy was finishing something downstairs and the architects aren’t here yet.” Sonny snorted. “Of course they aren’t. Tell ‘em they aren’t getting paid based on the time we wait for their sorry asses. In fact, can we add a completion penalty to the contract?” Towers nodded, his thick gray hair bobbing with the movement. “Nothing’s been signed yet, so I can add it in as an amendment to the draft. They’ll complain, but not too much. Not based on what we’re paying and the market for jobs like this in the Miami area.” “Good. I don’t want some damned overrun and delay like we had with the modifications to the guest house. That set us back a good six months on treatments.” Dr. Nichole Jessup, the clinical director of Caitlin’s House, nodded her agreement. “I understand we needed the housing option. There’s no question there. But these things need to be accomplished in the agreed-upon time. Otherwise it throws everything else off.” Catalina Sanchez, the fiery nurse practitioner who oversaw the housing side of the House, turned to look at Sonny. “Frankly, I was surprised we hired them again after last time.” “Yeah. I didn’t want to. But, honestly, it would take longer to bring a new firm up to speed than it will to beat these bozos into line. At least for this phase. If we expand again, we will be seeking other options unless these guys really amaze me.” “Gonna take a lot to impress Angie. Blondie’s too easy.” “Ok…I’ll consider bringing them back if they impress Angie.” He looked around the table, with a smile on his face that was closer to Burnett than his own. “How does that sound?” “Fair enough, if you wanted my opinion.” Towers looked down at his notes. “I understand the audit of Ms. Davies’ estate is complete. Is there going to be action required?” Sonny looked across the table at Angie. “I should be getting it after this meeting, but from what I’ve been hearing so far the answer to that is yes. I’ll get you a copy and my thoughts as soon as Jenny and I have reviewed it. Mostly Jenny, since we all know I can’t count past ten with my shoes on.” He chuckled, trying to remove the shadow of Burnett from the room. The conference room door opened and Rico and Mindy came in. “Sorry we’re late,” Rico said as he sat down. “The architects are right behind me somewhere.” “You’re right on time, partner.” Sonny grinned. “And here they are,” he said as the three architects came in with their tubes of plans under their arms. “Let’s get down to it.” The review of the plans went quickly, with Rico making a few alterations on the drawings for security. “I’ll want Stan to go over these before anything’s finalized,” he said as he dropped his pencil. “Checking for camera placement and all that wizard gear of his.” The lead architect put on a sour lemonade face. “How long will that take?” “No more than a day.” Sonny nodded to Towers. “There’s also an amendment to the contract. You can look it over while my staff reviews the plans. We’ll meet on Friday and finalize everything.” He looked down at his notes. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we gotta talk patient stuff.” Once they left, leaving their plans and tubes on the table, he turned to Nichole. “I’d like to hear how the last group of patients is doing.” They spent the rest of the morning reviewing patient status and outcomes. “…and it’s all going remarkably well,” Jessup finished, running her finger down a column of the spreadsheet in front of her. “We have close to a 95% completion rate, and of those girls only two have reoffended since the program began.” “How many have gone through?” “Over one hundred. Some of them were short term, of course. If you look at the residential program it’s been closer to forty. But we’ve had no reoffenders from the residential program.” “How are we on staff?” Catalina cleared her throat. “We’ll need more if we add more beds. And adding a boys wing means we’ll have to bring in people for that side, too. Along with a handful of providers.” Nichole nodded her agreement. “We’ll start small, just like we did with the main program. I don’t think we’ll ever have as many boys, though. There are more programs for them…” “But not the ones who’ve been caught in the sex trade.” Gina’s voice was firm. “Most programs won’t touch them, and they don’t stand a chance in the juvenile system. When they came through my old office they were the most broken kids we had to deal with. And the toughest to reach.” Sonny looked at Jenny and saw he nod. “We’ll start small.” His voice left no room for argument. “No more than five at first, and maybe never more than twenty. What matters to me is that we help these kids, not the numbers. And if that means almost one-on-one attention, then that’s what we do. Period.” Mindy looked at her spreadsheet. “On the positive side our fundraising is up significantly from last year. Angie’s got the full numbers for anyone who wants to see them, but we’re starting to reach outside of South Florida, and even outside Florida itself. We’re also eligible for some grants, which will help with staffing.” Sonny laid his hands on the table. “I think the short version is we’re doing good here. Both real good and good in terms of funding. We’re doing what Cait would have wanted, and we’re doing it the right way. Rico, can you make sure Stan gets those plans? Thanks. Now let’s get back to work. And I want you all to know you’ve done an outstanding job again this quarter. Girls who didn’t have a chance have one now because of everyone at this table. Never forget that.” Once the medical staff were gone, Angie dug into her bulging shoulder bag and pulled out a bound report, dropping it on the table with a resounding thud. “Here you go, Blondie. Little Blondie. Now Angie gotta go run some errands an’ make sure those girls don’t wreck girlfriend’s flowers.” Towers had looked up at the thud, and grinned. “I’ve gotta run back downtown and get a copy of the new contract to the architects.” “I’ll make sure you get a copy of this once we’re done. Along with what I want done.” Sonny shook the former DA’s hand. “Thanks, Gary.” “I should be thanking you, Sonny. You know how good it feels to actually see these girls turning it around instead of locking them up? I…” Gina stood up. “I’ll walk you out, Gary. I need to call Stan and get him out here to look over the plans. And I know just how you feel. It’s why I left OCB and then the department.” Rico watched them go. “We got a good one with that cat. He’s hell on wheels in the courtroom and connected out the ass to boot. Mindy says some of the old money donations we’ve been getting are because of him.” “Yeah. He’s from old time money. Still…he turned out good.” Sonny looked down at the report, flipping it open to the executive summary. “Unlike these assholes.” “What did the chumps do?” He read the first few lines and felt his blood go cold. Then Sonny Burnett entered his eyes and he slid the report across the table to his old partner. “Read for yourself.” Rico blinked, then started reading. “Those bastards.” Jenny touched his arm. “What?” When Sonny spoke, his voice was the flat nothing of Sonny Burnett. “According to the audit, those bastards had been taking money from her since the very beginning. Will might have caught the record company and Tommy Lowe, but he missed these two. Or Haskell at least. Watkins came in later.” “How much?” Jenny’s voice was very small, and he could feel her hand tighten on his arm. “North of ten million dollars over about ten years.” “I know a place where we can dump them. The sharks won’t leave anything behind, and the current will…” “I know how you feel, Jenny. But we gotta do this right. Besides, those clowns only love money, right?” Sonny looked across the table at Rico. “I say we go after them for punitive damages in addition to recovery. Maybe three times what they took.” “You really think they got that much stashed away?” “Likely not, but I want to break them in a way they’ll remember. And that much money will keep the House going for years to come.” Sonny turned, looking out the wide window at the manicured lawn. “Anything we recover will go straight into the trust. I won’t touch a cent of it. It was her money, and it should go toward preserving her name and what we’re doing in her name.” “When will you start?” “Jenny and I gotta look this over first. Really look it over.” He smiled. “More her than me. I wasn’t kidding about not being able to count past ten with my shoes on. And we may have to wait until the contract for the addition is finalized. I’ll let Gary make that call, though.” Rico looked at the summary again and shook his head. “I’ll bet Angie was mad as hell.” “I’m surprised she didn’t go run them down herself. Guess she’s got more self-control than we thought.” Mindy had been quiet since Towers left. “I hope we can get at least some of that money back. And if we need help, I still have some contacts we can tap. Ten to one these bastards hid their money offshore.” “Yeah. And if they did they picked the wrong group to try to hide it from.” Sonny turned away from the window. “But then again they still think I’m Sonny Burnett.”

Just some quick commentary... Life is very busy right now so I don't know how often I'll update this one. It's set about two years after the Task Force disbanded, so you're seeing the team getting on with their lives in many ways. But their old lives still come back to touch them in ways they might not expect. Since the majority of the characters are now out of law enforcement officially (except for maybe reserve positions), the action's different. It's actually hard to write some Vice characters without that kind of action, since in so many ways it defines what we see of them and what we expect from them. Anyhow...here we go. “You can open your eyes now.” Sonny Crockett felt like a fool standing in the marina parking lot with his own hand over his eyes, but Jenny Walker insisted. She wasn’t tall enough to do it herself, and she wanted to surprise him. And if it made her happy, he’d cover his eyes like some damned fool. “Now?” Her giggle melted his heart like it always did. “That’s what I said, silly.” The sun stabbed his eyes for a moment, and he shifted his hand like a car’s visor to block the glare. Then he saw it. “How in the hell…” “I still know people.” She giggled again. “Nothing’s hard when you know people.” He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and that reminded him he needed to breathe. He’d turned in the white Testarosa when he dropped his papers and left Metro-Dade, but hadn’t gotten around to getting another car. They spent most of their time on Tranquility in any case, tying up with the other boats at the dock at Caitlin’s House when duty called or at his spot in the marina when it didn’t. But this… “Go ahead, silly. It won’t bite. I might, but it won’t.” The long black hood glittered in the midday sun like obsidian, and he covered the distance in four long strides. The Daytona looked exactly like the one he’d lost to a Stinger missile along the coast all those years ago. Technically it wasn’t his car, but he’d felt the loss just the same. And now… “It’s beautiful, darlin’. Nowhere near as beautiful as you, mind, but still…” He opened the door and let the leather smell from the interior wash over him. “How the hell did you…” “I told you. I know people.” She handed him the keys. “Now let’s go for a drive.” The car roared to life when he turned the key, and it didn’t take long for him to go through the remembered motions of putting the top down. Jenny settled into the seat beside him, her blue eyes bright and her thick blonde hair fanned out across the brown leather upholstery. He looked over, seeing her body through the thin white t-shirt. “Show me what she can do and I’ll show you what I can do.” She smiled, then grabbed for her seat belt as he slammed his foot to the floor and left a trail of burning rubber running the length of the marina lot. He didn’t ease up until they were on the expressway heading north for clear roads and swamp-tainted breezes. He could feel his grin stretching the muscles of his face, but didn’t care if he looked like a fool. Being behind the wheel of a Daytona took him back years, all the way back to his first months with Vice. Back when he was still a cop, still married, and still full of himself. He hadn’t been ready for the car then. Or the life that came with it. He felt Jenny’s hand on his thigh though his jeans. “I’ll call Martin and Trudy and see if they want to meet us for ribs.” She turned and flashed a quick smile at Mustang loaded with what looked like sorority girls. “We’re heading that way and I’d like to see Pete again.” “Yeah.” Sonny had to shout over the wind whipping around the car. He’d been holding steady at ninety ever since they’d hit clear roads. “We are kinda going his way, aren’t we?” But it was, he admitted, a damned good idea. So much had changed since he’d turned in his badge almost two years ago now. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Jenny talking on the car phone, and reminded himself once again how lucky he was to be with her. Caitlin’s House was still growing, a slow yet steady process she and Angie, Caitlin’s old personal assistant, watched over like two hawks. He did what he could, mostly by bringing people in and making sure nothing distracted those two from doing their jobs. But he could see the House making a difference in the lives of the girls who passed through its doors, and he had to admit it made him feel damned good. Marshal’s Ribs was off the beaten track, but word of its barbecue spread like wildfire and it was always hard to find a place to park that wasn’t down by the long grass and the smell of the swamps. Jenny had hung up the phone before he turned off the main road, and was just knotting the straps of a blue bikini top behind her long neck when Sonny looked over. “I don’t want Pete to stroke out,” she said with a smile. “Trudy and Martin should be here soon. She’s driving.” Grinning, Sonny pulled into a reserved spot near the door and swept his thick dirty blonde hair away from his eyes. There was more gray there now than he liked to admit, but he was too damned stubborn to resort to hair dye. “Nice of Pete to put a spot here for us.” “He should. We bought the building.” “Yeah, but don’t give him a hard time about that. He’s…” “A proud man. I know.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek before bouncing out of the Daytona. “And you know I’d never say a word. He’s a good man.” Sonny shut off the car and sat for a moment, letting his body sink back into the familiar feel of the Ferrari convertible. But then the smell of smoke and cooking pork and beef filled his nose and he remembered he hadn’t eaten anything since dawn that morning. “Let’s get in there and see about a table. I don’t want Marty and Trudy to have to stand in the back.” In many ways Martin Castillo was a creature of habit. Two years away from the Job and he still wore the same simple black suit coat, white shirt, and narrow black leather tie that had guided him through decades in both espionage and law enforcement. He could feel Trudy smiling behind him as he aligned the tie in the mirror. “I know, my love. Some things don’t change.” Her arm slipped around him and he felt her lips on the back of his neck. “And I don’t want them to. Me? I can let it go a bit.” She stepped around him, showing off her new jeans and a simple loose top. “Don’t want to ruin one of the good dresses with sauce.” He sat in the passenger seat, admiring Trudy’s effortless driving as she guided the Challenger through the mid-afternoon traffic. They could take mostly backroads from his beachside house to Marshal’s Ribs, which gave Trudy an excuse to let the big V-8 stretch. When they pulled into the lot, Trudy pointed and smiled. “Look! Jenny actually found a Daytona!” “If anyone could…” Castillo felt his eyes warm behind his sunglasses. Jenny had been an art smuggler before settling down with Sonny, and he was sure her connections still extended far beyond a rare car. Much like his own. “It will be good to see them again.” “Yeah.” Trudy parked next to the black Ferrari in another spot marked Reserved and shut off the big muscle car. “It’s been what? Three weeks since that last benefit show?” “Yes.” He thought back to the show, a combination of her music and artwork done by local artists auctioned off to benefit Caitlin’s House. They’d raised almost fifty thousand dollars that day. He still had to stop some days and wonder at how far Sonny had come from being the cowboy cop he’d first met beside a canal in Miami ten years ago. Inside it was dark and smokey, the babble of the crowd almost drowning out the battered old juke box belting out what sounded like ZZ Topp in the corner. The waitress at the door gave them a quick look and waved toward the back. “Sonny and Jenny are back there. He said you’d be joining them.” Moving around full tables toward the back of the house, Castillo thought again about old habits. The heavy weight of his Model 29 Smith & Wesson hung under his left arm; one old habit he couldn’t shake. Not yet. And he knew Trudy wore a long, loose shirt to conceal the Safari Arms .45 on her hip. Maybe one day…but not this day. Sonny saw them coming and waved, but Jenny jumped up from the table and headed through the crowd until she could sweep Trudy up in a hug. “Trudy! Martin! It’s been too long!” Trudy gave Castillo a ‘what can you do’ smile and hugged Jenny back. “Yeah, girlfriend. It has. But with you and Sonny riding the waves all the time how’re we supposed to get in touch?” “I forgot about that.” She turned back toward the table. “Sonny! We have to come in at least twice a week so we can see these two! And Caitlin and Will!” “You got it, babe.” Castillo saw the quick flash of pain on Sonny’s face at the mention of his murdered wife and unborn son, but it was quickly pushed aside by the familiar grin. Both men knew Jenny meant nothing but good with the remark. Then Sonny was on his feet. “Marty. It has been too damned long. I shoulda been at that benefit with Jenny, but Rico and I had some new staff to check.” “Duty. I understand all too well.” Castillo took the offered hand, favoring one of his few friends with a narrow smile. “Have you seen Pete yet?” “Naw, but he knows we’re here. I think he might be whipping up some of those burnt ends or something.” Sonny chuckled and sat back down. “I heard some very marshal-like cussing coming from the kitchen not too long back.” Jenny sat down as soon as Sonny did. “I like to see Pete doing well. He loves this, and it’s good to see other people love it, too.” Castillo nodded. He’d gone in with them when they invested in Pete’s restaurant. He didn’t have the resources they did, but he wanted to help secure the future of the man who’d done so much to make sure his last law enforcement job actually counted for something. “He’s done well.” Trudy waved over one of the waitresses. “Can we get a pitcher of Coors over here? Actually better make it two.” Then she turned back to Sonny. “How are Rico and Mindy?” “Busy. Rico’s got security for the House humming, and Mindy’s keeping busy there, too. Background checks and all that kinda thing.” He let his arm fall around Jenny’s shoulders and she snuggled up against him. “When she’s not helping Gina with outreach stuff.” Castillo let their words flow around and over him, picking out bits from time to time. Another part of him watched the room. Old habits again. But the third part was just enjoying being with friends again. Letting their talk and happiness fill him. When the beer arrived he looked over and saw Jenny watching him. She smiled and winked before pouring herself a beer. Jenny. Castillo still wasn’t sure what force had swept her into Sonny’s life, but he knew it had saved both of them. She reminded him more of the hill people he’d worked with in Laos, even though she had the looks and speech of a California surfer girl. Like the hill people she was in touch with things the rest of them could not see, hear things they didn’t. He’d learned in those dark rainforests and high mountains not to question what the Hmong and Montagnards felt, only to heed their advice when things got hot. Jenny had that same air. Pete came out of the back with a big smile on his face. Castillo rose to shake his hand, still not able to shake the retired lawman’s resemblance to George Jefferson. “I thought I heard trouble comin’ into my place,” he said in his best Cracker lawman voice. “An’ it’s good to see my ears ain’t failin’ me. Looks like retirement’s treatin’ you good, Marty.” “Not as good as you, Pete.” Castillo’s smile was wide and genuine. Jenny’s voice rose above the rest. “Sit and have a beer, Pete. You need one.” “Now my pappy raised me never to argue with a pretty lady. Especially when she’s right.” Pete flopped in the empty chair with a grin and watched Jenny pouring him a beer. “Gotta say there’s a sight more work in big barbecue than I thought. But it’s good work, an’ folks go away full at the end of it.” Again Castillo let the words flow. At any given time at least half the people in the place were connected to law enforcement in some way. Anyone who caused trouble in here would soon find themselves facing far more trouble than they could handle. He never let his guard fully down, but he could at least relax here. Pete was talking again, lapsing out of his Cracker sheriff act as things got serious. “How’s that place of yours doing, Sonny?” “Good.” Sonny grinned. “Hell, more than good really. Jenny here’s talking about a big fundraising drive to add a new wing or outbuildings or something. So we can take in more kids.” Trudy leaned across the table. “It’s going that well?” “Well, we’re on our like tenth group of girls. An addition would let us add a space for boys, too. Which was always part of the plan.” Sonny grinned and took a drink of beer. “But in the first stages we just weren’t set up to have both.” “Plus there’s more girls in the system.” Jenny’s eyes were bright, and Castillo could feel her energy from across the table. “The boys…they just push them into prison. The girls usually end up on a different path and we can catch them.” The arrival of a platter of burnt ends and thick sliced bread brought an end to the talking, and Castillo joined the others in eating. Pete had managed to merge styles from Kansas City, Saint Louis, and the Carolinas in his place, converting even Castillo to barbecue. Any thought of serious conversation disappeared with the arrival of ribs and pulled pork, along with generous helpings of cheese grits and mashed potatoes. Looking over at Trudy, her lips decorated with a smear of thick Kansas City-style sauce, Castillo knew he wouldn’t have to worry about making dinner tonight. Pete was on this third toothpick before the talk circled back to their former lives. “Any of you hear from those two reprobates Mather an’ Blair? I told them to stay in touch, but I was never sure if either of ‘em knew how to write, let alone work a phone.” Castillo nodded. “Yes. They’re both back with the sheriff’s department in Montana. They’re going to be in town in a couple of weeks. There’s a conference, and Dave is going to use the opportunity to take Debbie back to Butte with him.” “About damned time she made an honest man out of him!” Pete laughed. “I am kinda hurt he didn’t call me, though.” Castillo thought back to the call he’d gotten late last night. “He said he did. But you cussed him out for forgetting the damned time difference.” “Shit. So that’s who that was callin’ me at one this morning.” Pete rubbed his forehead. “Now I feel like an asshole. I’ll call him soon’s we close up an’ let him know.” He chuckled. “So who’s still single from that crew of yours?” “Franz and Mather.” Castillo smiled his thin smile. “Although I hear Lester’s dating someone in Miami-Dade and Randy likely has a girl out in Montana. You know him.” “Yeah. Never use one word when none will do.” Pete turned to Sonny. “Wasn’t that bear of a woman all hot for him?” Sonny laughed. “Angie? Yeah. She still might be for all I know. You ask her anything like that and she’s likely to take a swing at you, though.” The day was fading into night when they finally left Marshal’s Ribs, Pete still protesting when Sonny paid the bill. Outside the heat was leaving the air, and Castillo took a deep breath to clear the smoke from his lungs. They were far enough out you could still hear swamp noises over the roar of machines, and he felt his body starting to settle into old rhythms brought on by the shifting sounds. Next to him Trudy sighed. “If you would have shown me this six years ago and said this was where we’d be I would have slapped you.” “Yes, my love.” He never would have believed it, either. How much they’d all changed, and not just in material circumstances. But still, usually late at night when Trudy’s breathing was even and his only companions were the night noises outside the house, he found himself waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was how he’d been trained. For some reason Gordon Wiggins had assumed his first breaths of air as a free man would be sweeter than they were. Of course, he’d done his time in what was essentially a summer camp for misbehaving stock brokers, so it wasn’t quite the same as walking out of Radford. Still, maybe in honor of the late and unlamented Fremont, he’d cherished the drama of the moment until there was no need. There was no one to meet him, but he’d expected that. Record executives weren’t exactly in high demand, especially ones who’d rolled on people to cut their time in half. Still, he’d been judicious. The attempt on the Davies’ woman’s life had been dumped at the charred feet of what remained of Fremont, along with most of the payola heat. Poor old Paul did so like to talk. He sounded almost presidential on those tapes when the government lawyer played he thought as he waited for his cab outside the gates of the minimum security prison he’d called home for the last few years. Still, Tommy Lowe had been right about one thing: get so much as a parking ticket and no one returns your calls. The thought of Caitlin Davies sent a quick stab of anger through his big body. The silly little bitch had ruined everything. That she’d gotten her due later did little to satisfy him, especially since he was cut off from the royalty stream that resulted. He’d been able to follow the whole sad saga thanks to the great cable reception and multiple TVs in what his fellow borders liked to call Club Fed, all the way down to her husband starting some kind of facility for wayward girls in their old home. Using MY money. Or what should have been my money. We made that little tramp. The cab reminded him of one of the squad cars they’d crammed him into after the explosion, but he pushed the memory down as he climbed in and gave the driver the address of a hotel near the airport. He’d take a day or so to get his affairs in order and then see about heading for Miami. The Feds might have thought they’d grabbed all his resources, but Gordon Wiggins was a careful man by nature. They only found what he wanted them to find. Ricardo Tubbs stared at the computer screen, waiting for the information he’d requested to load. He chuckled. So much of what he did now was waiting for things to load. Still, he couldn’t complain. Caitlin’s House needed security. No question. And it needed more than Angie scaring hell out of the girls if they got out of line, something she was damned good at. No, there had to be someone to screen the girls and the people who worked there. Watching for any slip, anyone who was trying to get in for the wrong reasons. Sonny had hired him the same day he’d left Metro-Dade, giving him total control over the security set-up. “Run it how you like,” he said with that damned cowboy grin of his. “Bring in whoever you need. I’ve got Stan and Lester on retainer, but hire ‘em full time if you want. We need these girls to be safe. Do whatever it takes.” They were still small then, three girls in-house and staff still settling in. The first thing he’d done was run background checks on all the rent-a-cops then fired over half of them.He started rebuilding security, hiring as many former Marshals as he could find along with a select crop of ex-Metro-Dade. Then he had Stan and Lester put together the electronic side of the house. “Sonny gave me the keys to the kingdom,” he’d told them when he brought them in. “Build it solid and plan for upgrades. He set no limit.” After the two got done repainting his office white, they’d gotten to work with a will. Now they had cameras just about everywhere, motion sensors on the perimeter, stuff to sweep for bugs…you name it, Stan and Lester had put it in. At first Rico thought they might have gone overboard, but the first time they picked up a reporter trying to sneak onto the grounds and then found a tap on the line no one could identify he decided they’d done exactly what was needed. The screen flickered, then steadied as information loaded. Rubbing his eyes, Rico compared what was on the application to what loaded. “These chumps never learn,” he muttered, checking the ‘reject’ box and dropping the application into his out tray. “You can’t hide a felony.” “Did we get another one?” “Yeah. Chump had a felony assault conviction and he wants to work security here.” Rico looked up and smiled at Mindy as she walked into the office. Mindy Tubbs now. Damn, that takes some getting used to. But in a good way. He gave her a quick, admiring look and then went all business again. “That makes three this week, though. Kinda makes me wonder.” “I wonder how many of them get hired by other rehab centers.” She came around the desk and laid her hand on his shoulder, and he let her fragrance wash over him. “You know we check better than anyone else.” “Hell, I check harder than…what do they call it now….Miami-Dade.” Rico chuckled, pulling out another form and clearing the search pane. “If this is gonna work, we gotta do it right. And that means checking all the boxes, not just the easy ones.” “You know it’s after five, right?” “No, I didn’t. Let me run this last one and we’ll get out of here.” Rico typed in the name and hit enter, watching the hourglass on the screen do its thing. “And this one’s clean. I can finish him in the morning. Let me hand off to Tiny and we’ll head home.” Tiny, the exact opposite of his nickname, sat behind the security desk by the main entry. The big glass doors were automatically locked now, entry only possible with a badge and proper authentication by the head of watch. Tiny grinned as Rico came out of the back office. “Callin’ it a day, boss?” “Yeah.” Rico nodded. Tiny had been a member of one of the Marshal’s Office high-risk warrant teams, until he’d ended up on the wrong end of a shotgun welded by a late and unlamented crack dealer. He’d lost his left leg below the knee and was looking at a medical retirement and no real future when Rico hired him to run the night shift. He still had rehab to get through, but Tiny had been there for them during the Task Force days and he wanted to return the favor. “Good deal. We got them all settled down for the night.” He looked down at the log. “All the visitors are clear, and I think I might run an extra foot patrol down by that stretch of fence where the reporter tried to get through last year. Those dudes have short memories.” “Good thinking.” He felt Mindy shift behind him. “See you in the morning, Tiny.” Casa Cooper’s rooftop patio gave them a ringside seat to the neon-glazed sprawl of Miami, and Rico often headed out there with a drink after work. It was Mindy’s night to cook, so he stood alone in the cooling air watching the ice cubes in his glass melt into the scotch. Thinking. Sometimes when he closed his eyes it felt like it was just yesterday he’d dropped his retirement papers on the desk of the bewildered deputy chief who’d just had to absorb an identical packet from Sonny, Castillo, Trudy, Gina, and Stan. And some nights when it was overcast he even felt like he was still in New York until the dank heat gave it all away. Mindy had changed his life for the better in more ways than he could count, but some nights he liked to reach back and touch his past. Remembering where he came from to understand where he was. In some ways it had been hard walking away. He wasn’t an action junkie like Sonny, but he did miss the challenge of the hunt. Spotting the bad guys, luring them out in the open, and then trapping the bastards. And being able to change his name as often as he changed his shirt. Rico Cooper one minute, Teddy Prentiss the next. And waiting in the wings for the bad things Marcus Jefferson. Taking a sip of his scotch, he raised his glass in a silent toast. Sometimes he missed all of them. “How many of those applicants do we need to hire?” He hadn’t heard Mindy come out. “No more than two. One to replace that chump on the night shift who mouthed off to Tiny and the other to replace Hermanez.” “Hermanez quit?” “Yeah. He said something about his wife having to move closer to her mother. The mother’s sick and the other kids can’t help. He didn’t want to go, and he’s gonna be hard to replace. But he’ll get the full payout. Gotta look after family.” She moved to stand beside him, a wine glass in her hand. “It’s that bottle Trudy gave us. Don’t judge; it’s actually kinda good.” “You know me, pretty lady. Wine, whiskey, or water. It’s all the same to me. So long as you’re here.” She smiled and touched his face. “You always find ways of reminding me why I asked you to marry me.” Rico chuckled. “I bet you thought right until the last minute we were going to show up in drag.” “I did! But I was ready for it.” She looked over at the small table and chairs placed to catch the shade thrown by potted trees on the roof. “And it was right over there.” “Yeah. We didn’t have family in, so it just made sense to do it here. Where it all started.” A steady beeping made her slip out of his arms. “And now I gotta go rescue dinner. Did you want to eat out here?” “Naw. Let’s go in and put on some Bird. Pretend we’re anyplace we want to be.”