Page 73 of Monk
“I don’t mean to disparage you or your deputies, Sheriff,” I say. “But you and your boys have to obey all the laws. Cartel men have no respect for the law. You’d be walking into that fight with one hand tied behind your back. We can do what you can’t.”
“I appreciate that, but—”
“No, Sheriff,” I cut him off. “You and your deputies with all your laws and ethical behavior go rollin’ in there and you’re gonna get Kasey killed. There ain’t no two ways about it. Zavala will kill her and I’m not going to let that happen. If you want to see Kasey alive again, you and your boys need to sit this one out and let us handle it. We’re equipped for this fight. You’re not. End of story.”
Singer eyes me closely. “And what’s to stop me from lockin’ you all up right now?”
“Because you want to see Kasey back home alive every bit as much as I do, and you know we are her best shot. You know we’re heronlyshot,” I say.
Singer hesitates, looking like he’s going to argue further. But I see him contemplating my words. He nods, looking absolutely miserable but with a steely determination in his eyes. He looks as if he’s processing the information as he sees the men assembled and ready for war. I can see him taking heart as he sees me with the guys. I know it has to be galling him, if only a little, that it’s us saving his daughter and not him, but there’s not much that can be done about that. Not now.
“We’ll keep the casualties and damage to a minimum if we can, sir,” Prophet says. “But we’re walking into an unknown situation. We don’t know the enemy numbers or their disposition. We’re banking on them being inexperienced in a firefight. That should give us an edge and, hopefully, keep the number of dead and wounded down.”
“We’re telling you all of this because we can do things you can’t. Things you’re not trained for. And it’s better us getting fired on than you. These cartel pricks are ruthless, but fortunately, everybody you see behind me has been trained, and trained well, to handle ruthless,” I add.
Singer shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say, fellas. This is… overwhelming. To say the least.”
I nod. “Now that you’re in the loop, we need to get on. We can’t spare another minute.”
The big sheriff looks at the men once more, too overcome with emotion, and finally nods. The men start filing out, heading for their bikes, moving with a purpose and a deadly grace. They move like warriors. Singer catches my arm as I’m going and turns me to him. I look him in the eye, waiting impatiently, feeling every second tick by.
“I don’t like this one bit. You need to know that. I don’t feel right about lettin’ you guys go shootin’ everything up out there,” he says.
“I don’t like it either, Sheriff. If there were any other way, I’d jump on it. But I think you know, every bit as well as I do, this is the only way we’re getting Kasey home. We can go places and do things you and your men can’t. Like I said, we’re her only hope right now,” I tell him.
His expression is sour, and he couldn’t look any more disapproving of this if he tried. And there may come a time when he regrets making this decision. But right now, he’s making the best choice he possibly can. He’s making the choice a father, and not a cop, must make, and that’s what’s best for his daughter. And I know he can’t possibly feel any shittier about it. But at least he’s got his priorities right, as far as I’m concerned.
“I knew somethin’ was wrong when I got home and saw her bag of clothes dumped by the back of her car,” he says. “And I was so sure you had somethin’ to do with it.”
“Well, now you know I didn’t. And that we’re going to take down those who are responsible for hurting somebody we both love, Sheriff.”
He nods and looks me in the eye. “I don’t have the words. I ain’t never been very good at sayin’ what needs to be said. Ask Kasey.”
I nod back at him. “Well, you’re going to have plenty of time to find those words because we will bring her back to you.”
“Don’t make me regret this. Bring her home to me or I swear, there is gonna be hell to pay, Jake.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard him use my actual name before. The first time I’ve heard him refer to me as anything other than scum or dirtbag.
“Gotta go,” I say.
***
We’re crouched down on a small rise about a hundred yards from the lodge with the sun on our backs. If anybody was looking up at the rise—there’s no reason they’d even be expecting us—they’d be looking directly into the sun anyway. We’re all but invisible up here.
“Two black SUVs,” Max reports from his sniper’s nest. “I see eight men total out in front of the cabin. All carrying ARs.”
I look over at Prophet. “Would it be karma or just fucked-up luck if we get shot by the ARs we sold to the Warriors, who in turn sold them to the cartels?”
“Probably a little of both.”
“There’s no way Tarantula sold those ARs to the cartels,” Cosmo adds. “He hates those fuckers.”
“Hey look, we finally found some common ground,” I say.
I look over to the tree line where Max is positioned. He’s invisible to me amongst the foliage of the forest. I had no idea the kid was a sniper back in the Corps. And judging by the bits of his record he shared with me, he was a damn good one. It makes me feel a bit better knowing he’s got overwatch on us.
I key open the mic. “Any sign of her, Max? Do you have eyes on?”
