The sun glared through the Roadrunner's window with amber-hued judgment, like a far-off witness forced mute to night's crimes. The road had curved back home with nothing but bitter silence between Gray and Nathan.
Deputy Morales sat waiting for the two to return. Her cruiser was parked obtrusively across Nathan's driveway. The deputy had let down Gray's tailgate, where she sat solid and immovable. She met eyes with the Roadrunner's headlights as the car slid past her and next to the open curb in front of Gray's old Ford. Nathan half expected her eyes to flash like a hungry animal’s.
He shut the engine off and let a nervous breath escape between his teeth. He went to say something rude and stabbing, but Gray held up a tired hand.
"Save it; let's deal first." Gray exited the car, not bothering to wait for him. Nathan's head dipped; he sighed and rubbed his eyelids until lavender swirls played in his vision. Reluctantly, he followed the Indian's lead.
"Mr. Tall-knife, you just can't stay away. Nice seeing you," Morales spoke from around a candy sucker in her cheek. The pale sky darkened as the sun shot the last of its life into the pink-orange clouds above.
"Can't say I feel the same, Deputy," Gray remarked behind a weightless smile.
"You know it's a misdemeanor to report a false crime, right?" Morales pulled the candy from her lips and pointed it at Gray.
"Sounds correct," Gray answered, thrusting his hands in his pocket. "But I can't imagine anyone wasting the valuable time of our good ol' sheriff's department doin' something like that."
"How about you, Nate? Have you been making phone calls?" She hit the 't' at the end of his name with a sharp, condescending ping.
"Sounds like a real bastard," he admitted honestly. Gray raised an eyebrow at him, and Nathan shrugged and then smirked.
"So, where'd White Trash Ranger and Rez-Tonto get off to today?" Morales asked.
"In all fairness, deputy, I was a Zorro kid; how about you, Coyote?"
"Green Hornet," Nathan answered.
"That's the same show," Gray criticized with a smokey chuckle.
"No."
"It is," Gray argued.
"No, it isn't, one's western. I liked it for the car; I'm not a horse guy. Plus, Hornet had gadgets. Kato had kung-fu."
"Enough," interjected Morales.
They ignored her.
"Gadgets?" Gray asked incredulously, "Gadgets? You liked it because of them gadgets?"
"So?" Nathan turned to him and gave Morales none of his attention.
"You're not looking anywhere but the surface. Tonto's basically Kato. Quiet sidekick with special talents, ethnic lookin' too. The Ranger is Green Hornet, guy in a mask, dashin' type with a hard jaw and grit. You liked a knockoff, but they were both shit."
"The Lone Ranger. Get it right." Nathan corrected.
"Lone?" Gray balked at him. "That guy was never alone, and neither was Hornet. Tonto, Kato, they were the guys doing the real shit, hard shit-- pulled them heroes out of trouble every week. Zorro didn't need saving like that, just a good damn horse."
"Shut it, both of you!" Morales shouted. "I got three burner numbers that called in the robbery." She hopped from the tailgate and advanced on them. "I know it was you. You called all that in to get me off your boy, Gray. It must've been fucking imperative. So, I'll ask again: where did you go?"
"Had to get us diner food. It was imperative." Nathan stood his ground.
"It's the atmosphere. Real americana-cozy, you know?" Gray flared his thumbs from his pockets and shrugged.
"I know that you had him beat the hell out of Camp." She pointed a finger over at Gray. "When I have him, and I will have him, I'll have you too, Tall-Knife. Goodnight, shitbags," she brushed past them both.
"Seems like a lot of wasted taxpayer money," Nathan called after her. "You're working pretty hard trying to frame a man for some drug dealer getting his ass beat. Not to mention the work you put in for that middle-aged fat-ass by sitting in your cruiser for three days straight."
She stopped and turned on a dime; hate flared across her features.
Nathan grinned and continued to prod at her. "Been wondering what the stink was; thought someone hit a cat that crawled under my house."
She stopped and glowered angrily at him.
"What Coyote's trying to say is, maybe you should be putting your nose to the ground somewhere more useful. Justice for Daniel Camp won't come of you harassing us." He stepped between the Deputy and Nathan.
"Believe me, you'll feel the difference when I start harassing," she assured. "Reign in your dog, Tall-Knife, or he goes to the pound, and I’ll make sure they put your bitch down."
“Sounds like the cops are threatening me, doesn’t it?” Nathan shouted loudly.
“Us, really,” Gray commented in reply.
Morales stepped into her cruiser, backed out, and drove from the house, down the neighborhood, then out of sight.
"You think I'm bugged?" Nathan asked quietly. The streetlamp above their heads flickered as if in answer.
"It ain't no spy movie," he laughed, scratching his nose and cheek. "But I'll give the truck a once over when I get home, I suggest you do the same for the house. She overplayed. She's trying to spook, that's all, turnin' up dust," Gray commented and dismissed her with a wave of his hand.
"Might be eyes out there, though." Nathan glanced down the streets.
"Agreed," he scanned the neighborhood. "We'll fix your trunk latch some other time, yeah?"
Nathan sighed, "And if I need to get the spare?"
"You'll have to wait. Bring it by the house when you can."
Gray unlocked and pulled the old truck's door wide open.
"Gray," Nathan growled. "This Vega thing -- it's not the right time, it's not--"
"God damn you." Gray's grip tightened on his door. "You don't get to choose. This is what's needed, what pays, and bringing the Vega girl back home is how you lighten that stain you got, hear me? Don't matter whether she lit out on her own, skipped out with some guy mom and dad don't know about, or whatever she's doing. It's the job."
"I don't find lost little girls." Nathan pleaded.
"You do now," Gray fired back, intensity burning in his pupils. "You got broken hearts tied to you. They're heavy and pain, guilt, well, they don't lighten that load, do they? Nah, they make you weaker. So shut the fuck up about it, carry it."
"But this will? I'm going to be absolved?" Nathan seethed. "I got Morales on my ass day-in, day-out, and you want me out there on another job? Just go ahead and put me in prison yourself."
"You find people of all sorts, not just the bad. You've got a knack for it. This is the exact kind of thing you do."
"I haven't," Nathan shouted at him. "Not me."
"Coyote--" Gray's voice softened.
"Nathan. My name is Nathan," he roared. The two stared at each other for long, tense seconds. "I'm not him. So, just stop."
Gray shook his head, his shoulders slumped. It took him seconds to look years older.
"Coyote, I know this is hard; I know you got shit eating you from inside out, some of it real bad," his old eyes darted to Nathan's chest and lingered. Nathan felt like shrinking away, as if the old man still looked through him, seeing someone else standing in his footsteps. "But some of it's good, too, you know?"
Nathan breathed a heavy, frustrated sigh as Gray hoisted himself in his truck and rolled down the window.
"You could be right, I suppose, but those parents need you, not some ghost and certainly not an old man with creakin' bones. You won't find Lorena feeling sorry for yourself or kicking yourself. Just go do it, cause that's all we got left to do."
Gray rolled the engine over and, without a second look, left him in the street as the night began to paint the sky with swaths of darkness, and Los Cuellos again turned feral.
To be continued next month in Chapter 6: Running Down Trails
Suspenseful storytelling! Leaves you anxious with anticipation...