“And I’m using it to find a government employee.”
“I’m coming with you,” Barnes said, starting for the driver’s side.
I held out a hand to make him stop. “You really think you should leave only one officer here with this guy?” I gave him a pointed look. Pleasant might botch it and then she might not. Either way, Barnes’s ego wouldn’t let him take the chance.
“Isn’t it going to take another half hour for someone from another county to make it here to go get Lightfoot? What if not only his leg is broken, but he’s been electrocuted by this guy?”
“Stun guns don’t hurt you . . . much.” Barnes frowned, as if trying to puzzle out the truth of what he’d said.
“His will.”
Barnes’s gaze fixated on Fillmore as Barnes slowly stepped farther away from their prisoner. Pleasant shook her head and gave her partner a look of disgust.
Fillmore crossed his arms and widened his stance. “She’s crazy. Don’t believe a word she says. Her head’s all full of estrogen and cotton balls.” He laughed. “Hah! Estrogen-perfumed cotton balls.”
I wanted to smack him, but I knew when to leave well enough alone. I would leave any vengeance to Officer Lightfoot, the Big Bend County Sheriff’s Office, and the Almighty Smiter.
With a salute to Barnes and Pleasant and a wave to the criminal element, I reversed Lightfoot’s SUV into a patch of cactus, adjusted the wheel, and then promptly backed it into a utility pole. I didn’t think I lost much paint since there was only a slight bump and a high-pitched scraping sound. I drove around the Prius and into the scrub and brush until I found a four-by-four trail, which took me back to the good old days in college, when we’d go mudding off-road south of Austin. I hadn’t found a place to go mudding in the high desert, and I doubted I ever would. Finally I turned my high beams on and began to pick my way carefully down the trail. I called Lightfoot on the radio.
“Turn your flashlight on so I can find you.” I was hoping he was still conscious. “And, by the way, you’re welcome.”
“You caught him?” His voice held too much skepticism for my liking.
“Me, Lenny, and a couple of deputies.”
“Huh.” He groaned. “That’s great. Slow down. You’re almost here.”
“Wave your flashlight. I don’t want to run you over. You’d be flatter than a fritter.”
“Slow down,” he ordered. “And if we’re throwing around Texas sayings, you’re louder than a stampede of buffalo.”
I’d never heard a stampede of buffalo though I saw a herd out in Caprock Canyons State Park once on a family vacation. Lightfoot must have been all kinds of stressed out to suggest such a thing—which wasn’t surprising, seeing as how he’d hurt his leg and I’d stolen his thunder by catching Fillmore.
Up ahead, I found him at the end of my high beams. He was standing on one foot, grimacing as if he’d lost the other leg in a battle with Santa Anna.
“Lenny, stay. You don’t want those coyotes to come back, do you?”
My long-haired Chihuahua friend climbed into the front window for a better view as I picked my way forward with a bit more speed and threw the cruiser in park. Carefully, walking through the rocks and cacti with the help of the cruiser’s headlights, I ignored Lightfoot’s stern look of disapproval, took his arm, and placed it around my shoulders.
“Who said it was okay for you to drive my cruiser?” He hopped and grunted toward the vehicle.
“You did, remember?”
“What was I smoking?” Lightfoot was going into shock. I’d never heard anything halfway snarky ever pass his lips. He tried to point me toward the driver’s side.
“Don’t even think about it.” I jerked open the passenger door and helped him into the seat, barely managing to get him inside without bumping his head.
A breath separated our faces from each other. His arm still clung around my shoulder. I stared at him, and he stared at me. “I don’t kiss on a first date.”
“Good thing this isn’t a date.” He leaned forward and so did I. He gently placed his lips against mine.
I froze, not daring to breathe, and closed my eyes.
“If you’re finished taking advantage of me, I think I’m going into shock.” I backed out of the car so fast I whacked my back on the door handle.
“Yip, yip, yip.” Not to be outdone, Lenny jumped into Lightfoot’s arms and gave him a kiss.
“Against regulations.” He whined and drew in a quick breath. “You trying to get me fired?”
“Heck, yes.” I ran around to the driver’s side. Then it dawned on me. There was no way to turn around.
“Seriously, get out of the driver’s seat. I’ve driven in far worse condition.” His words passed slowly through gritted teeth.
“Shh. Hold on.” I was in park, but the brake lights would do a fair job of illuminating our path as long as I kept watch over my shoulder. “There’s plenty of light to back up with if I go slow enough.”
“Hey—”
I craned my neck, held down the foot brake, and moved the clutch into reverse. Slowly, like a box turtle on Valium, I backed that cruiser down the path, taking out a barrel cactus and a sapling, which made a horrible scratching sound to the undercarriage of the SUV.
“Pull this over now.” When we hit another bump, he could barely contain his groan of pain.
“Yip.” Lenny tried to give him another kiss.
“Stop that,” he said, and unceremoniously tossed him into the backseat.
“Watch it, buddy. He’s trying to make you feel better. Service dogs, ever heard of them?”
There was silence as I continued to pick my way.
“Not in need of a service dog. If you’d bothered to examine my leg, you’d know I merely need an emergency room.”
“Almost there.” I focused on the Prius, at the last minute swerving around it and coming to a screeching halt.
I hopped out
