York’s face was purple, and his arms were flailing at her.
“Put your arms down if you want your balls back,” Sin growled through gritted teeth.
His arms dropped immediately.
“Tell me you’re sorry.”
York looked at Sin, and with a final burst of determination, he tried to break loose. All he accomplished was having her grip tighten even more.
His knees wobbled and he fell to the ground. Sin dropped with him and kept hold of his sack like a bull rider gripping his rope, trying for an eight second ride.
At that moment, the door to the dining hall opened and Rosa, Carmelita, and the other guard were stunned to see the two of them on the floor.
“What the hell is going on here?” the guard said.
“Call 911,” Sin said.
“What the hell for?” the guard said.
Sin, her hand hidden from view, squeezed and twisted again. York gurgled incoherently, his face turning purple again. “I think he’s having a seizure,” Sin said emphatically.
The other guard quickly pulled his phone from his belt and dialed emergency services.
Sin released her hand and York’s facial hue began to lighten.
“He seems to be coming out of it,” Sin said, “but make sure the medics take him to the hospital.”
She stood and watched York roll into the fetal position with both hands cradling his crotch.
Sin straightened her shirt and said, “If you have everything under control, I have an appointment on the Navy base.” She eyed York. “He’s safe, just watch him until help arrives.”
“No puedo llevarte a ninguna parte,” Carmelita mumbled as they went to get Maria.
Sin rolled her eyes and then thought, She’s right, she can’t take me anywhere.
A few minutes later, the ladies were saying goodbye to Rosa as the ambulance was pulling onto the property.
On the drive home, Carmelita asked Sin what happened.
Sin eyed the older woman and said, “He just seemed like he could use a hand, so I gave him one.”
Carmelita flushed red and burst out in laughter.
20
At four p.m., Sin rumbled her bike up to Charlie’s hangar.
Charlie was bent over a Cessna aircraft engine compartment giving Sin the ‘plumber’s view.’
She patted him on the butt. “Is that a coin slot?”
“Screw you,” Charlie grunted, “and hand me a seven-sixteenths wrench.”
Sin placed the long-handled wrench in his open palm and watched in amazement as Charlie did his magic. She had learned a lot from watching him when she was younger, information she had used to get out of all types of scrapes since leaving Tumbleboat.
Finished, Charlie straightened up, put his hands on his lower back and leaned into them, stretching his spine. “Damn, I’m not as limber as I used to be.”
“I’ll bet on you any time,” Sin said as she looked closer at the plane. “Is this a 1957 Cessna 172?”
“1956,” Charlie beamed. “First generation of the most popular aircraft ever made.”
Sin slid her open palm over the smooth paint of the fuselage. “This must have cost the owner a pretty penny.”
“It was a present from an old friend,” Charlie said wiping the grease off his hands with an old rag. “I’ve had her since 1973.”
Sin’s eyes opened wide. “How come this is the first I’ve seen her?”
“She’s been kept in the old hangar out by runway two. I haven’t flown her since the seventies.”
“Why are you working on her?”
Charlie poured them both a cup of coffee. “Seeing old friends made me sentimental. Hearing about even older friends dying made me realize that what we don’t cherish, we lose.” He handed Sin a cup. “She belongs in the air, not holed up in some musty old hangar. I plan on tuning her up and taking her out next week. Care to join me?”
Sin blew on the hot coffee and took a sip. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she smiled.
Charlie nodded. “Enough of that for now. Let’s talk about what’s been happening since last night.”
Sin sat down and waited for Charlie to boot up his ‘old’ Mac.
“I need you to check on a name,” she said.
Charlie glanced her way, fingers on the keyboard.
“Marilyn.”
Charlie typed. “Marilyn who?”
Sin wiped her hair from her face. “That’s all I know.”
Charlie sat back and picked up his cup. “Where did you get the name from?”
Sin reiterated her time at the orphanage. She told Charlie about York and the basement.
“I took pictures of footprints,” Sin said. “They were raked over, but they can still be seen. You’ll find them interesting.”
Charlie took her phone and plugged it into his computer with a USB cable.
“They’re dark,” Charlie said, “but I can fix that.”
A few taps on the keyboard and the pictures looked clear as day.
Sin stared at the screen. “They still don’t look right.”
Charlie opened another program, highlighted the photos and began pecking away at the keyboard. “You got to check out the bureau’s photo enhancing software,” he mumbled. “This shit’s amazing.” With one final tap, he sat back and waited for the pictures to finish their enhancement.
Sin and Charlie sat speechless and stared at four different sets of prints.
“I’ll be damned,” Charlie mumbled.
Sin turned her attention from the screen to Charlie as he fiddled with the mouse and keyboard.
Charlie sat back and clicked the enter key with the tip of his index finger. “I love playing with Uncle Sam’s toys,” he said as he pointed at the screen. “Tell me what you see, agent?”
Sin leaned forward to get a better view. “Fuck.” She pointed at the prints. “There aren’t four sets of prints, there are eight! The others were so much smaller and left such a light impression, I didn’t see them.”
“Kids prints,” Charlie added. “Not only that, but look here.” He pointed at one set of adult prints. “This set is smaller than the rest and the prints aren’t as deep as the others.”
Sin sat back and exhaled. “Female?”
Charlie mirrored Sin’s movements. “A definite possibility.”
“You think there is a correlation with this Marilyn person?”
Charlie shrugged. “Why are you so interested in this ‘Marilyn’ person?”
Sin stayed silent for a long time, choosing her words carefully. “What
