"Time for a drink." The scent of cigarettes, sweat, and beer assault his senses. He glances around the crowded room and finds his prey at the bar. He's drinking and tapping his fingers nervously on the bar as though waiting for someone. Chase moves off to an open table and waits.
“Can I offer you a drink?” A saloon girl asked in a husky voice. Her long red nails are painted to match the exact shade of her lips and hair. Large white, powdered breasts are pushed high in a red and black corset with black lace stockings and heels to finish off the look.
Chase stares in fake appreciation, trying not to flinch in horror as the smell reaches his nose. “Yes, Ma’am, and some company?”
She smiles and takes his order, moving to the bar she returns with two large glasses of beer and sits next to Chase. "So, what's your name, handsome?" Under the garish lights, she almost looks pretty. He imagines that once before this life consumed her, she was decent looking. Her makeup is painted on thick, and he can tell by the stench coming off her body that it's been a busy night for her.
"Chase," he replies drinking the ice-cold beer. It is a relief to his system in the hot, crowded bar. Her hand drops to his thigh, and she strokes up and down.
“Well, Chase, my name is Jackie. Do you wanna do this here or in the back room?” Chase squeezes her hand to stop the movement.
“I’m gonna need you to stop talking.” She shuts up as he watches the man wave and moves off to the back of the bar.
"Jackie, I've got a fifty-dollar bill with your name on it, if you help me." Jackie grins at him, and her eyes go hard.
"You've got my undivided attention, Chase." He leans close, and she giggles while he traces a finger over the swell of her breasts.
“I need you to follow that man at the bar who just waved and find out who he’s meeting. I need information.” Jackie leans back and sips her beer before casually glancing around.
"His name is Paul. He's a regular, and I know how to get him to talk. Do you want time with him or the person he is meeting?"
“The man he’s with.” Chase nibbles at her neck, hoping the show looked convincing and she sighs with pleasure.
"Keep that up, Chase and I may do it for free. Move to the back of the bar, and up the stairs, my room is number three." She slides him a key and grabs his glass. "I'll bring a refill." Chase grabs the key and hurries to the room.
Fifteen minutes later, Chase is sitting in the small room which is surprisingly clean. A large bed, chair, and dresser with mirror face a window which overlooks the alley below. Chase checks to make sure it’s not nailed shut and opens it up to let some fresh air inside. He lights the lantern and takes a seat in the chair with his pistols loaded and ready.
“Come on, Jackie. I don’t have time for this,” a familiar voice says.
“But, baby, you said if I had the night off to let you know.” Jackie lays it on thick and presses her breasts into his chest as she runs a hand down the front of his pants cupping his bulge. “Someone is happy to see me,” she purrs as she strokes him.
“Always. Have you been a bad girl, Jackie?” He asked groaning in pleasure.
"Oh, so bad, baby. Are you gonna punish me?" She laughs as he slips two fingers in her corset and pinches her nipple hard. "Yes, just like that!" Jackie opens the door and steps inside blocking Chase from view, and she closes it behind him.
Neal freezes when he hears a pistol cock. “Shit!” He exclaims as she steps aside. Walking over to Chase, she runs her hand inside his breast pocket. He grins as she finds the cash.
“Don’t make a mess, Chase. I just cleaned this room.”
“Thanks, Jackie,” Neal sneers.
“It’s just business, Neal.” Jackie steps outside and leaves.
“What are you doing here, Marshall?” Neal takes a step only to see the glint of steel enter Chase’s eyes.
“I’d ask you the same question, but I think I found my answer. Why’d you kill those girls?” He demands.
Neal laughs at him, “For a Federal Marshall, you sure are stupid. You think I did it? Well technically, I did slit their throats, but I was just following orders.” Chase slips one of his guns into his holster and orders him to a chair. Neal tries to run for the window, but Chase is ready for him. He trips him and slams his gun down on his collar bone. Neal screams as the bone crunches under the blow of the gun’s handle. Chase grabs him by his hair and tosses him into a chair in the corner.
“Sit, Neal. You can tell it to the judge.” Neal groans and struggles to stay awake against the pain which threatens to make him pass out.
Chase tosses a glass of water in his face, ignoring the coughing and sputtering that follow. Neal glares at him with hate-filled eyes and laughs when Chase begins to read him his rights.
You are under arrest for the murder of …” Neal laughs louder.
“Which Judge? How deep do you think this goes, Marshall?” He spits at him as Chase ties him up tightly. Both wrists are strapped to the chair and both ankles.
"That's exactly what I plan on finding
