January Gets Her Gunn

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 328 July 1982: 2130:

Thad entered the squad room with some reluctance. The last three weeks hadn’t been the best of his career with the Riverton PD. Farrell was the first rookie who had ever argued with him. He’d already begun to feel he wasn’t holding his own with her. There she is, relaxed and laughing at one of Banks’ quips. Getting her to quit is going to be harder than I thought.

After he found a chair, Thad accepted the shine board from Gil Thorn. At least we have a full crew tonight. Maybe I’ll have some time to get through Farrell’s thick head. He started reading the reports.

“Listen up, people.” Sergeant Wayne Rogers held up a sheaf of papers. “The SO had a kidnapping-rape last night. The victim, nineteen years old, was abducted from the vicinity of the college library around 2130. A rag saturated in something pungent was held firmly over her nose and mouth until she passed out. When she regained consciousness, she was naked, trussed on the ground out in the desert. The doer used her three times, rather brutally. He then tied her, face down, with her feet drawn up to her wrists, gagged her and left.

“About four o’clock this afternoon, a man hiking about three miles south of the freeway and west of town, found her. The girl is in bad shape with dehydration and sun burn, so the deputies didn’t get much from her, but she described the doer as white, about twenty-five, five foot ten to six foot, dark hair, clean shaven, dark T-shirt, and jeans. She thought he was driving a fairly new dark-colored pickup, possibly with Arizona plates. No further at this time, though I hear the deputies got some foot prints and tire tracks. They’re asking us to check any dark pickups we stop for women’s clothing. Any questions?”

Thad considered a moment, fishing for a memory. “Sarge, wasn’t there a similar incident about a week ago, over at Yuma? Maybe a possible connection?”

“The SO doesn’t know, but they’ve contacted Yuma for details.”

Sergeant Wilson stood up. “Okay, gang, it’s time to go fight crime.”

As the shift filed out. Farrell walked beside Goldman, her head angled, listening intently to something he was saying. When Thad followed the rest into the locker room, he noticed Farrell, Hunt, and Goldman talking. As he approached, their conversation ceased. He walked up right behind her, spoke almost into her ear.

“Farrell, you having nightmares about me yet?”

“No, Officer Gunn. I haven’t had one dream about the Zombie from the Swamp, sir.” She turned to favor him with her sweetest, most innocent smile, as she came to a very military posture of attention.

He snorted. “Farrell, anybody ever tell you you’re a smartass?”

“Yes sir, Patrolman Gunn tells me that at least five times a shift, which works out to about seventy-five times, sir.” She continued to smile.

“Are you trying to get my goat?”

“No sir, I don’t have any interest in livestock.”

Thad could hear Hunt and Goldman snickering. Damn, I’m losing it again. “Ye know what I mean.” He growled the words, feeling a pang of dismay when his burred accent came through, stronger than normal. That only happened when stress got the best of him.

“No sir, I don’t know what you mean. You’ll have to be more lucid. However, if it has nothing to do with police functions, I suggest you wait until another time. We are now officially on duty and Officer Gunn does not permit casual, trivial conversations while on duty, sir.”

“I’ll see you in the car, Farrell.” Thad turned, stalking out of the room. He hoped she winced at the slam of the door behind him.

* * * *

January barely listened as Gunn continued to rant while they cruised down Centennial. He seemed to be repeating himself, anyway. The skin on her neck still tingled where the warmth of his breath had brushed it. She’d had a hard time not jumping when he came up and spoke in her ear.

Damn him, anyway! If he doesn’t get off his freakin’ high horse, I’m going to remind him of his rule concerning not talking about anything but police matters in the car. I don’t need this bull.

January idly watched the approaching lights. As the car passed, she noticed something strange. “Hey, that car didn’t have a driver! The one we just passed.” She turned in the seat to look back.

“Huh?” Gunn glanced into the rear view mirror. “Saldana!” Turning on the emergency lights, he made a screaming U turn in the middle of the block. January had to brace herself with both hands and feet, even though her seat belt was tight. An oncoming car made a panic stop, slamming into the curb. “What the hell are you doing?”

Gunn didn’t answer, but in less than two blocks had the RPU right behind the driverless car. He flipped on the spotlight, bathing the interior of the other car with white light. January still could not see a driver. Picking up the loudspeaker microphone, Gunn ordered the other car to pull to the curb and stop.

The car slowed, veered towards the curb, hit it with a glancing blow, and bounced to a stop. January had her seat belt unbuckled and the door open before two hands atop skinny wrists emerged above the seat back.

“Take it easy, Farrell. It isn’t what you think.”

January scrambled out, darted forward and to the right, taking up a position at the right rear corner of the car. Her hand hovered near her pistol. Unbelieving, she watched Gunn, with casual unconcern, walk up to the driver’s door and open it.

“Okay, Paco, come on out and get up on the curb.”

“Sure, Meester Gunn.” A diminutive Mexican boy emerged, hands still held high and a smirk on his narrow face.

“Put your hands down and get up on the curb.” Gunn continued to smile as the boy did what he was told.

As the boy reached the curb, he openly eyed January. Then he whistled. “Hey, they’ve started making better looking cops!” He turned towards Gunn. “Man, you got it made, riding around in the dark with that. Wow!” He made a gesture with both arms that January recognized as a Mexican sign signifying s****l intercourse. She could feel a blush heat her face and neck.

“It’s not like that, Paco.” Gunn’s tone was surprisingly gentle. “Meet Officer Farrell.”

The boy shook his head, as if in disbelief, before he turned to January with a smile, sticking out his hand. “A sus ordenes. Me llamo Francisco Philippe Jesus Saldana y Estrada, but you can call me Paco.” Taking January’s hand, he made a courtly bow and touched his lips to her fingers. “Usted es muy bonita, senora.”

“Gracias senor, pero soy una senorita.” January had to smile at the antics of the solemn-faced little rooster.

“Hey, Mister Gunn, you better marry her. She can teach you Spanish. ‘Sides, she’s too beautiful not to be married.”

“Not on your life, Paco.” Though she spoke to the boy, January smiled inwardly at the play of emotions on Gunn’s face. She’d never expected to see him so nonplussed.

“Why? He make the spooky face at you?” Paco twitched his mobile face into a humorous caricature of Gunn’s evil-eye stare.

“That’s enough, Paco.” Gunn’s voice turned sharp. “Where did you get it?”

“Ripoff Roberts’s. That Cheevy es no bueno por nada. I had to goose it to get it in second and it won’t go into third or you no catch me. He wants fifteen hundred for that piece of sh…junk that ain’t worth a hundred fifty.”

“You hot wire it?”

“Ah, no. Some bozo left the keys.” Paco winked at January. “I think I want a Cheevy, so I test drive it before I buy it.” He said Chevy as if it began like church rather than like shift and with a long e sound, she noted, the typical Mexican accent.

She watched as Gunn suppressed his smile. “You know better than that. At thirteen you can’t get a driver’s license or register it. And you haven’t got a hundred fifty, much less fifteen hundred. You’re a rascal, Paco.”

“Si, Mister Gunn, but I’m good at it.”

January laughed aloud. “Amen.” This kid could con anyone. He’s even got Gunn acting civilized. I didn’t think I’d ever see Mr. Macho Gunn behave so sympathetically. Maybe he is human after all.

“Paco, turn around and lift your shirt, please.” The boy did as Gunn asked. At the sight of the welts and dried blood on the boy’s back, January gasped. “Okay, Paco. When, with what and how far down?”

“This afternoon, down to my knees with a glass casting rod.” The boy shrugged, dropping the ragged shirt-tail.

“The same one as last time?”

“Ah si, the same one.”

When Gunn turned to January, the pain reflected in his expression shocked her. She almost thought he’d suffered a beating right beside the boy. “Farrell, I’m going to use the radio. It’ll go faster if I don’t have to relay through you, all right?”

“Sure, go ahead. I understand. What I don’t understand is the boy’s back, this whole scene.”

“It’s a long nasty story. I’ll explain later.” Gunn spoke over his shoulder as he got in the car.

January stood close, trying to hear what Gunn said. He told dispatch to get hold of the Chief County Juvenile Probation Officer and to request placement of Paco either in a temporary foster home or the Juvenile Detention Center. When he described the injuries on the boy’s back, she heard the tension in his voice, saw it in his face and noted a tremor in the hand holding the mike.

January turned back to Paco. “Why were you whipped?”

The boy shrugged. “Same old thing, a cop took me home.”

“You mean you’ve been beaten this way before?” The boy nodded. “You’re telling me someone beat you because a cop took you home? What had you done?”

“Nada. I was standing in the parking lot of the c******n’s talking to a couple of girls. Sure, we were smoking, but it was tobacco, not m*******a. Benny Meyer drove in. He says the c******n said I was in his store shoplifting. I hadn’t been in the store all day. The girls they told Meyer, too, but he don’t listen. He put me in the car, took me home, and told the old lady I was shoplifting. She whipped me ‘cause I got a police car parked in front of the house. Scares off her customers.”

“Your mother whipped you?” January could not contain her shock.

“Nah, ella es mi tia, creo que.”

“You think she’s your aunt? Don’t you know?”

Paco shook his head. “She tell me so, but I don’t know. She get welfare money for me. Maybe, maybe no.” He shrugged one thin shoulder.

January found the whole incident disturbingly mystifying. She wanted to learn more. “Why did this officer who took you home tell her you were shoplifting? Did he search you and find some loot?”

Paco shook his head. “No, but I’m Mexican and a juvenile delinquent with a record. Meyer, he no like Mexicans. He no like me, ‘cause he’s too dumb and fat to catch me. So, when he can, he grabs me and takes me home. He knows la vieja will beat me.”

“That’s hard to believe of an officer, Paco, but I’m new and I don’t know them all yet.”

“Es verdad, ask Mister Gunn.” Paco nodded towards the car.

When Gunn got out of the car, he looked angry. “Paco, did Meyer take you home again?” Paco nodded. “That tears it!”

Gunn looked at January, scowling, though she felt this time it was not directed at her. “Okay, you drive the Chevy back to Roberts’ lot. I’ll lead the way. Park it and leave the keys in it. We’re taking Paco to the Station. I want photographs of his back. Afterwards, we’ll take a meal break and get him something to eat before we go to the emergency room to get that back treated. Those stripes are ripe for infection. Okay?”

“Sure.” I don’t know what this is all about, but for now, I’ll go along with it. Gunn’s acting awfully strange, and there’s too much I don’t understand. January walked to the recovered car, got in, and started it, sliding the seat back so she could straighten her legs.

At the used car lot, Paco showed January where the Chevy had been parked. She backed it into place. I don’t like this. We’re covering up a crime, but I’ll see where this goes before I make any decisions. I suppose I could get fired, but if I go, Mister Thaddeus Gunn goes too. That thought put a grim smile on her lips. She had another one on him now.