Davenport, Iowa
“Go ahead. Give it to me.” Darrell exhaled as he drove. “I’m higher.”
“Can’t be,” Jeff argued.
“I’m telling you. Go on.” Nodding at Jeff, Darrell edged on. “Go on.”
“Seven forty.” Jeff counted the remaining bills in his wallet. “You?”
“Seven fifty-five.” Darrell said. “Told you I lost more.”
“We should have never come back here.”
“But we won when we came here before Kansas.”
“So does that mean we really lost?” Jeff asked. “I mean, if we won four days ago, and we lost all but fifty back, we didn’t lose.”
A bright smile hit Darrell. “My friend, I feel much better.”
“You should. Whew.” Jeff chuckled. “And here I was going to get upset.”
“Damn, we are doing good this trip.”
“We are. Still ahead.” Jeff replaced his wallet in his pocket.
“I was concerned, you know, with our next stop. But now I’m up for it. You?”
“Very much so,” Jeff said. “Doing a surveillance on that casino owner for a week isn’t a bad deal.”
“He may know about Rodriguez.”
“They do suspect him of being the banker,” Jeff added.
“Actually, our man Rodriguez, A.K.A., David Lappula, Arthur Stiller, Winston Hillchurch…” Darrell listed.
“And don’t forget Chen Yung.”
“Can’t forget that identity,” Darrell continued. “He may actually be with ‘Casino Man’.”
“And if he isn’t, I’m never one to complain about seeing Reno.”
“Me either.” Darrell let out an excited breath as he drove, just a little faster. “Man, you have to love this job.”
“I do.” Jeff smiled widely. “As long as we aren’t in Ohio.”
Andapa Village
Madagascar, Africa
Poco was the name Lars Rayburn had given the fifteen-year old boy when he had taken him under his wing three years earlier. He was abandoned by his family, labeled evil, and left to die after a botched attempt to physically exhume the demon intertwined in his gut.
The boy’s name wasn’t really Poco; what it was, Lars didn’t know. The boy never corrected him and the new name stuck.
Poco was bright, smart, and finally happy again. But he couldn’t talk, nor could he write. He had lost not only his hands, but his tongue as well when severe gangrene caused their amputation at the young age of five. Gangrene resulting from a form of Bubonic plague, a common occurrence in Madagascar.
“Ohio,” Lars spoke slowly to Poco. “Form the word with your mouth. Ohio.”
Poco did.
“Now I tell you this every year. I am going back to Ohio.” Lars smiled. “Remind me to play you that song.”
Poco tilted his head with a smile.
“Mrs. Dune will watch you. You know to monitor my animals, correct?”
Poco nodded.
“She won’t go into that back room. She says it smells. Remember that any paper the machine spits out, you hide.”
Poco gave a thumbs up.
Lars walked to his dresser and pulled out clothes. “Not taking much. I have items in Ohio. They’ll be dusty though.” He walked the clothes to his suitcase. “I tried, you know, to get clearance to take you with me, but the government wouldn’t approve it. I’ll bring you back something.”
Poco rubbed his forearm over his shirt
“Of course, I’ll bring you back a tee shirt. Ohio State.” Lars grinned and shut his suitcase. “Well… how about you and I have some food before I embark on my journey? Sound good, my silent friend?”
Smiling, Poco nodded.
“Shall we?” Laying a hand on Poco’s back, Lars led him from the bedroom. He dreaded the beginning of any trip that took him from Madagascar. Shots, quarantines, all just to go back home. But once he was en route, Lars was fine.
He enjoyed working with all the rare illnesses that seemed to float around him in Africa. But it always felt so good to take that yearly month-long trip to go home to Lodi, Ohio, where the worst illness that ever showed up was a few simple cases of the flu.
Lodi, Ohio
It was an extremely hot August day, and Mick expected Dylan to be lounging in her pool. She usually did on hot days, because Dylan was never one to be pleasant in the heat. She called it her humidity Midol.
Mick heard the splash of the water as he approached the back yard. He looked down at the sheet of paper in his hand once more with a shit-eating grin, rolled it up, placed it in his back pocket, and peeked through the trees into Dylan’s yard.
He was right.
She wore that red bathing suit he loved to see her in. Dylan lounged in her water world, head resting against one end, her feet dangling over the other, while the ten inches of water in the wading pool covered her midsection.
Sneaking quietly for a man of his size, Mick made it to the wading pool. Just when he thought he had her, his face moving closer to Dylan’s, she popped open one eye.
“Now did you honestly think you could sneak up on me?”
“Shit.” Mick stole a quick kiss.
“Hey.” She waved him away.
“You won,” Mick stated.
“Excuse me?”
“I concede. Enticed, sexually aroused. You name, I am. You won. Where are the boys?”
“Um…” Dylan’s head spun. “Dustin took them to the park.”
“Good. Let’s make up.” Mick smiled.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
“Can’t make up out here. I’d have to arrest us.” He winked.
“Mick.” She laughed his name.
“Dylan, you started it with those emails. Let’s go inside. When will the boys be back?”
“They just left.”
“Even better.” He grabbed her hand. “I’ll carry you if you’d like.”
“Mick… Mick, we can’t.”
“You think the boys will be right back?” Mick asked. “‘Cause I have to tell you, posed shots or real, after seeing pictures fifteen through eighteen, I won’t be that long.”
Dylan chuckled.
“Come on, what do you say?” he brought his lips in softly. “Huh?”
“We can’t, Mick. See…”
“Are you on your period?”
“No.” She laughed. “Look. We can’t because…”
The sound of the back porch screen door slamming shut silenced Dylan, then Sam spoke. “I tried to take as little space in the closet as I could, but I think I gained more clothes or…” He stopped talking when he saw Mick.
Mick’s jaw twitched as he looked at Dylan. “Clothes? Closet?”
Dylan sat up. “Let me explain.”
“Is he living here again?” Mick asked.
Sam answered, “Yes, Mick.” he stepped off the porch. “He is living here again.”
Mick slowly stood up. “I see.”
Dylan reached up to him. “Mick, let me explain.”
Mick pulled his hand away. “No need.”
Dylan huffed. “You don’t want me to tell you what’s going on?”
“What’s there to explain?” Mick asked.
“A lot.”
“I don’t need to hear it.”
“Then fine.” Dylan crossed her arms. “I won’t tell you.”
“Sorry I bothered you,” Mick said snidely then moved back from the pool.
Sam stepped closer. “Mick, you have to remember she is a married woman, has been for quite some time. You didn’t think I’d be away from this house for good, now did you?”
“Not at all,” Mick stated. “Expected your return.” Mick started to walk away but stopped. “However…” he said with a lifted finger, “that little marriage speech…” He reached to his back pocket and pulled out the rolled up paper. “You may want to give it to…” he handed the sheet to Sam then looked at Dylan with a smirk, “Tracy. See ya.”