Chapter Two
Law
I hop into my patrol car with Darrell Motts in the back, looking nervously at me, sweat beading down his forehead. “I swear I didn’t know she belonged to you.”
“Relax, Motts. You got your warning to stay away from her, and I hoped to take it to heart because there will be no second chances where she’s concerned.” I say it calmly although I feel anything but relaxed. Every muscle in my body is coiled with tension.
“I did. Believe me.” His pathetic pleading falls on deaf ears because my only thought at the moment is getting him out of my hair.
“Good. Now sit back and shut the fuck up and we won’t have a real problem.” He does what I say even though the glaze of intoxication is still in his eyes.
It’s a short ride before we pull into my spot in front of the station. I park, and then drag him out of the backseat. As he stands up next to the vehicle, I lean in and warn him once more. “Leave my woman alone and you’ll make it to live another day.”
“Yes, Law,” he answers, releasing a slight shiver. We head into the station and I book him on charges of drunk and disorderly conduct, but honestly, that’s all I got him on. After her statement, my hands are tied. He didn’t do anything that would count toward a true criminal offense that would award jail time.
On the other hand, he could have actually pressed charges against her for battery. Not that he’d dare attempt that shit if he preferred to live through the night. I bring him to the nearest cell and set him inside, closing the door. “Hands out.” He puts his hands through the small meal slot, so I can undo the handcuffs. I tuck the cuffs back in my pouch on my belt and walk to my clerk to deal with the paperwork. The station isn’t very large since we don’t have a huge need for it with our small population and low crime rate. However, we have enough space to house thirty in a holding cell.
“Don’t I get to make a call?” Motts shouts from the short distance, rankling my already tested nerves.
I whip my head around and glare at the asshole. “What the fuck for? You sober up and you’ll be out of here in the morning.”
“I still got to tell my wife to come get me. She’s already gonna be pissed off.”
“You’ll get your call when I’m ready to give it to you. Sit your ass down while I finish up this paperwork.” I’d rather get the hell out of here and check up on my little body surfer and see where she’s been hiding out and maturing for the past two-plus years.
“Fine.” He sits on the small mattress with a huff while my clerk, Rogers, smirks.
“What’s he in for this time?”
“Disorderly conduct.”
“Well, he’s like the violent version of that old guy on that Mayberry show. The one who used to sleep in the jail.”
“You mean the Andy Griffith Show?”
“Yeah. I heard he likes to lay it into his wife when he doesn’t score any action in town.”
“And yet you haven’t said shit before?”
“I’ve only heard rumors. I’ve seen her, and she’s never claimed any abuse.” I look over to Motts, who has his head in his hands, and wonder if he’s really beating on his wife. That’s the sick cowardice shit I can’t stand for.
“I’ll check when she comes in to get his sorry ass.”
“Okay.” I head over to the coffee pot and snag a fresh cup and then go into my office and fill out the paperwork on the arrest, mentioning just a simple assault information, leaving out the major confrontation between Ms. Gordon and Motts. I don’t want her name brought into this anymore than it has to be. Given that he’ll be out of here with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and sore balls, this doesn’t require more than an incident report. She could sue him, but there wouldn’t be a dime to be had since he snorts and pisses his money away.
Once I’m done, I check on the dipshit and bring over the cuffs. “Time to make your call.” After I have him ready to go, I lead him to a conference room and give him his damn request.
“Hey, babe. I’m not coming home tonight. The sheriff has got me for drinking in public again.” I can’t hear what she says although, I could put the call reports since it’s all on a recorded line. “Yes, he’s got issues. I’ll be out tomorrah…” his voice slurs. He’s still a bit wasted. I’m glad Doc took a blood sample to get his tox and blood alcohol.
“Times’ almost up, Motts.” I’m not in the mood for the bullshit he’s feeding her. My patience grows thin while I wait for him to spoon feed her lies, knowing he’d been harassing my future wife.