Page 52 of The Sister's Curse
I didn’t like the idea of the sheriff gunning for me if I made things difficult for the Kings of Warsaw Creek, but at least Chief had my back. I wouldn’t put him in the line of fire unless I had to.
Loyalties being what they were and all. It was damn sure a good thing to have some of my own, people I could trust.
13
Rusalka
I received a text that my car was ready. I had to admit, I’d gotten pretty used to the spotty El Camino, but I was eager to have my own car back. I got Detwiler to take me to Lister’s dealership.
Detwiler’s brow was furrowed. “El-Tee, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What the hell happened back there?” His voice shook in anger, something I’d never seen in the guy before. “They were gonna kill that girl.”
“I know,” I sighed. Detwiler was a good egg, and I decided I could trust him. “That’s how I see it, too. Hopefully, CPS will be able to help that girl, keep her away from this.”
“What can we do to help?”
I exhaled. “I’m gonna give a copy of my report to CPS. And I’m not gonna let this go.”
He nodded sharply. “I’ll give mine, too.”
“But we have to be careful,” I told him. “Watch your back. The sheriff commands a lot of loyalty, and he can sink your career.”
Detwiler shook his head. “I’m not worried about my career. I didn’t become a cop for this.”
“Good man. Keep your eyes and ears open.”
As we pulled into the dealership, I could tell something was off. Most of the expensive cars and trucks from the front row of the carefully arranged display had been removed. Even the candy apple red Corvette was missing from its platform.
I wasn’t buying the idea that business was good enough for Lister to have sold them all. As Detwiler and I circled around back, I saw that the service area was full of cars under tarps and car covers.
“Wonder what happened here,” Detwiler mused.
He parked the patrol car and we got out. Nobody was immediately around, so I pulled up a car cover.
I stared at the gorgeous red Corvette. On its hood, someone had spray-painted in black a snake eating its own tail.
“Detwiler,” I said.
He’d pulled a tarp aside on a truck. The whole side of it had been painted similarly. The paint was fresh—still tacky. Maybe even from tonight.
I looked at all the cars, counting them under my breath, expecting that they’d all been similarly vandalized. “Do you know if this was called in?”
Detwiler had a quick conversation with Dispatch on his radio, punctuated by those irritating beeps I’d come to associate with the new system. “No reports, El-Tee.”
A man in service coveralls approached. “Hey!”
Detwiler turned to the man. “I see you’ve got some trouble here, sir.”
The service technician flushed. “We’ve got that under control.”
“You don’t want to make a report? For your insurance?”
The man shook his head. “Boss said there’s no point in getting stupid kids in trouble. We’ll try to buff it out.”
“You’ve got cameras up.” I pointed to the lights overhead, where dome-shaped cameras were mounted.
