Holding his weapon behind his back, he rose, went to the door, and looked through the peephole. Mindi was outside. He placed the gun down on top of the television and opened the door. She opened her mouth to say something then just ran at him and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed his cheek and pulled away.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. But you don’t have to worry. I’m fine.”
“I tried to see you at the station, but Al wouldn’t let me. They wanted some time alone with you, they said.”
“Yeah, we had our time alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“They think I killed somebody. A burn victim in a car.”
“That happened days before you flew out here.”
“Apparently, there’s someone out there saying it was me.”
“That’s ridiculous. After everything you’ve been through, they interrogate you?”
“That’s not important now. I need your help. Orson’s forcing me to leave in a week. There’s a lot we need to do before then. Have you heard anything from the lab about that DVD?”
“Oh, yeah, they left a message saying to call them, but I haven’t done it yet.”
Stanton checked the clock on the dresser. It was almost six in the morning. “How far a drive was the compound Freddy Steed lives in?”
“About an hour. Two if traffic’s bad.”
“Give me ten minutes to shower. Then we’re heading out there.”
Stanton showered, shaved, and put on a fresh shirt and pants before fixing his hair. He looked at himself in the mirror for a while. The work had aged him past his thirty-four years. Wrinkles were beginning to appear around his eyes, and he had found a few gray hairs. Stress. Humans were not supposed to experience the type of stress that modern men did. It was the true killer of civilizations, a quiet one that few suspected. Stress drove presidents and kings to madness and made entire nations fall. Stanton fought stress as best as he could, but in the quiet morning hours, he sometimes woke with a pounding heart and butterflies in his stomach. He knew he wouldn’t make it to retirement. He would have to quit soon or die doing it.
He stepped out of the bathroom and saw Mindi, still in uniform, lying on the bed, flipping through the channels.
“You can’t wear that. We’ll have to stop by your apartment and have you change.”
“Why?”
“If these guys are real white supremacists, they’re also anti-government. Any representation of government will set them off. We’re not cops today.”
“What about our backup?”
“Call in for at least one unit, but we’re gonna have them park half a mile away from the compound. You ready to go?”
“Yup.” She hopped off the bed.
They left the hotel, and Stanton went to the valet to retrieve the Cadillac, but Mindi informed him that his Cadillac had been returned to the car rental agency. So they got into Mindi’s squad car and pulled onto Las Vegas Boulevard.
“We need to find another car. Can we use your Jeep?”
“No, it’s in the shop for the transmission. My sister has a decent car, though. She’d let us borrow it. She has clothes that could fit me, too.”
“How far away does she live?”
“Twenty minutes. It’s in North Vegas. Practically on our way.”
Mindi left the strip and headed toward Heather Lakes Drive, where trailer parks sat to the right and used car dealerships on the left. The dilapidated park sat empty, except for a few homeless men drinking on the playground.
Mindi turned up a winding street and parked in front of an old stucco-and-brick apartment building.
“Do you wanna wait or come in?”
“I’ll come in.”
Mindi led him to the third floor, where she knocked on a door with chipped paint and a rusty doorknob. Stanton could hear kids screaming from inside.
A woman who somewhat resembled her, with the addition of perhaps thirty pounds and bleached-white skin, answered. “What you doin’ here?” she asked.
“I need to borrow your car. And some clothes.”
“What for?”
“It’s for a case. I didn’t want to drive all the way back. We’ll pay.”
“How much?”
“Fifty bucks.”
“Hundred.”
“Fine.”
The woman fully opened the door, and Mindi walked in, motioning for Stanton to follow. He stood by the couch as the woman shut the door. Mindi went into a bedroom and told him she would be out in a minute.
The woman was looking him up and down, and Stanton noticed that the cigarette dangling from her fingers had the distinct odor of tobacco mixed with marijuana. Many people used the trick to make their pot last longer.
“So, you a cop?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Our daddy was a cop. We got different mamas, but the same daddy.”
“She didn’t tell me that. Was he here, with the sheriff’s office?”
“Yeah. He died when we was kids.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. How did he pass, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“He busted some meth house, and they started shootin’. He got hit in the neck. Died ’bout an hour later.”
“I’ll pray for him tonight.”
She gave him a quizzical look and took a drag of her cigarette. “Was your daddy a cop, too?”
“No, he was a psychiatrist, a shrink.”
“I know what a psychiatrist is.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
Two small children poked their heads out from the kitchen. Stanton waved, and they disappeared.
“How many kids do you have?” he asked.
“Four. Little shits, all of ’em. You?”
“Two.”
Mindi stepped out wearing jeans and a blue short-sleeved shirt.
Her sister eyed her. “Don’t go ruinin’ my clothes.”
“I won’t. Where’re your keys?”
“Bowl on the TV.”
Mindi grabbed them and reached into her purse. Stanton took out a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and gave it to the woman.
“I got it, Jon.”
“It’s fine. We should get going, though.”
“I’ll be back after work,” Mindi said. “Don’t leave.”
“I won’t,” she said.
They left the apartment and didn’t speak until they were driving away. Stanton began checking emails on his phone.
“You can say it,” Mindi said.
“Say what?”
“That you didn’t think I came from a family like that.”
“Family like what? She was friendly.”
“She’s trash. Those kids-she’s not sure who the father is for either of them. She sells pot on the side to pay her bills. Not in front of me, but I know she does it.”
“It’s easy to judge other people.”
“So, you don’t judge the dirtbags you bust every day?”
“No.”
“I call bullshit on that.”
“It’s not my place. It’s between them and the Lord.”
Mindi pulled onto the interstate heading out to the desert. A semi nearly cut her off; she flipped off the driver then sped ahead and cut him off.
“Do you really believe in that… in religion?”
“Yes.”
“So, you really believe that the earth was created six thousand years ago?”
“The earth, no. But mankind, I do.”
“And you believe in Adam and Eve and how she’s responsible for all the evil by eating an apple that a snake gave her?”
“No, I think she understood the divine plan and ate the fruit on purpose, so that she could have children, namely us. I see Eve as very courageous, not at all how she’s historically been perceived.”
“I’m not talking theology. I’m asking if you actually believe a snake gave an apple to her? And that Jonah sat in the belly of a whale and that Noah put two rhinoceroses on a boat?”
Stanton held up his hand. “Look at this.” He wiggled his fingers. “My hand and fingers move because a thought I had in my mind moved them. They’re connected by nerves, sure, but it was just a thought, something that’s considered immaterial. Something immaterial moved something material. It’s a miracle that we see every day and take for granted. Compared to this, putting two fat rhinos on a boat doesn’t seem so miraculous.”