Blood Hunt

Toews laughed. “I do have a horse, a sweet Skipper W mare quick as a cat, but I only use her for working cattle and cutting. I don’t suppose you ride.”

“No.”

They drove down the Kansas Avenue alleys then out to 282. “So what do you do for fun off-duty?”

The most truthful answer was: hang out with Harry and work cases on his own time. Instead, he said, “Hunting and pool.”

“You any good?”

“Hunting depends on the game, but I’m an excellent shot. And…” He might as well admit it. “…better than excellent at pool.”

Toews’ eyed him. “Meaning?”

“Don’t bet against me in a game. My grandfather Anton Mikaelian never let anyone forget that the pool halls he ran in Chicago and Sacramento fed and clothed his family through Prohibition and the Depression and all his sons and grandsons better by god show appreciation by learning to play as soon as they could hold a cue and reach the table, even if they had to stand on a stool. Like I did at age five.”

Toews smiled. “Then I’ll take you to the American Legion some evening. We’ve got some fellows there who are pretty proud of their games. Maybe we can make a little money.”

They circled behind the Co-op elevator and pulled up behind a parked car with steamed windows. Toews flipped on the light bar, but remained in the car…picking up a clipboard and making notes…letting the other car reflect alternating red and white light.

“You’re not going to see who it is?”

Toews shook his head. “I know who it is…him anyway, her probably. They’re legally consenting adults, if just barely. Both live at home, which is why they’ve come out here.”

“Oh…you know the car.”

He nodded, still writing. “That cop wisdom: learn who the people in your territory are, what they do, where and when they do it? Piece of cake in Baumen. Of course, a lot of these people are either friends or I’m related to them by blood or marriage.”

Garreth knew his share of street people and felonious types in San Francisco, but what must it be like being familiar with everyone around you, good as well as bad. “So you never check these guys out?” He doubted he could go that far.

“Rarely, as long as they’re not minors. They’re embarrassed enough right now.” He smiled wryly. “ I’ve been where they are.”

A sense of deja vu touched Garreth. Seconds later he realized why. This felt almost like his rookie days, absorbing wisdom from his training officer.

“We’re a friendly department. Small but effective.” Toews burped the siren. “Come on, Kevin; move out.”

“Friendly. Like the friendly sharpshooter Duncan?” Garreth said.

The lights of the other car came on. It gunned away, the wheels spitting gravel back at them.

“Ed, yeah.” Toews sighed. “Every department has one, don’t they. You just have to make allowances for Ed’s birth defect.”

Garreth frowned. “Birth defect?”

Toews killed the light bar. “Being born with an asshole where his brain should be.”

Somewhere in laughing, Garreth found Toews became Nat in his head. And he pulled a mental double-take. Had he heard what he thought he heard? This was like his rookie days. “Are you giving me a sales pitch…trying to recruit me? You’re crazy.”

“We need another officer.” Nat put the car in gear. “It’s a great American tradition, coming west and starting over with a clean slate.”

“I’m from the West.”

Nat snorted. “California isn’t the West, just far out. Think about it. Ride along with me again tomorrow night. There should be a little more action, though hopefully not the Wayne Hepner kind. Come by the station early enough to meet some of the other officers.”

The offer pulled at Garreth. He knew he would enjoy another ride-along, but since joining was out of the question, no longer than he would be around — even if they would have him here — and he remained officially an SFPD officer, he was better off keeping away from temptation. “Verl’s offered me a temp job. I have an obligation to show up.”

Nat nodded. “Of course. However…I’m betting Verl will apologetically retract the offer. Irene will have come begging to keep her job, with some plausible excuse for the other night — she had to take her mother to Hadley, the regional medical center in Hays, or something — and forgot to tell Verl ahead of time. It might even be the truth. Verl will forgive her yet again because she’s got no husband and two kids and her mother to support.”

“This is more knowing who, what, where, and when?” Garreth said.

“Sadly. See you at the station I hope.”

6

Nat knew his people. When Garreth walked into the Main Street, a big-haired blonde reminiscent of the 1940's Claudia Darling offered to seat him. The AWOL Irene, her name tag told him. Verl hurried out of the kitchen to apologize profusely for no longer having a job available. All as predicted.

If he had listened to Nat, Garreth thought irritably, he could have slept the whole day in the earthy darkness of the barn instead of just most of it on his pallet on the floor of his room’s windowless bathroom.

A piercing whistle caught him by surprise…and the whistler. Sharon, in uniform, wearing the stitches and butterfly bandage on her chin like a badge of honor.

“Everyone,” she called to the handful of diners, “this is the man who saved my life last night! Garreth Mikaelian!” She ran over to throw her arms around him and kiss him.

Maybe he should have anticipated this, he thought in dismay, after Violet had gave him that huge smile and: “I hear you’re a hero.” when he came downstairs. He needed to fade into Baumen, not become a headline Lane was certain to hear about.

He tried shrugging off heroism. “It was no big deal.”

“It was big deal to me!” Sharon said.

Of course…and of course she was going to tell everyone about her rescue. Some hunter he was. Forget stealth, camouflage, or using a blind. Stand in the open like an idiot, shouting his presence. On the other hand… could he not have involved himself last night? No. It was who he was, as Nat said. He could not regret it despite the probable consequences for hunting Lane.

So with the damage done, he might as well have a little fun riding with Nat.

First, however, as long as he had no further need to tolerate daylight, his pallet in the hotel called him.

As he passed the desk, Violet hurried out to it. “You have a phone message, Garreth.”

His pulse stuttered in automatic anxiety. Who would call him, or even know he was here?

“Mary Catherine Haas asks please come see her. She’s Sharon’s grandmother. Here’s the address.”

She probably wanted to thank him for saving Sharon. Garreth sighed. A phone call would take care of that. “Would you look up her phone number for me?”

“No, no.” Violet put a hand over his. “She was very firm. She wants to see you.”

Well shit. He eyed the address, trying to remember the streets he rode down with Nat last night. “Where’s Poplar?”

“Just after the Pizza Hut.”

Farther than he wanted to walk in daylight.

“When you come back, park behind the hotel at the Methodist Church. The parking places out front will be filling with people coming to the five-thirty showing at the theater.”

Mrs. Haas’ house had a wheelchair ramp up to the porch. And fire at the door as usual. When he rang the