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  “You ditched me for someone else?”

  “I’m a loser. Was a loser, I mean.” Jesse scratched his forehead, trying to draw sympathy yet not look too pathetic. “Brandi, I just want to apologize to you.”

  She started laughing.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “The whole night I was wishing I would’ve gone with Sean Andrews. When you got the stomach flu and left, I thought I was the luckiest girl alive.”

  “You didn’t want to go with me?”

  “I said yes because I was afraid no one else would ask me. But you were in your own little world. I drove, you never opened the door for me, and I was the only girl without a rose or carnation. Plus, you danced like an idiot.”

  “If I remember correctly,” Jesse blurted, “you were drunk before we even got there.”

  “That was my only hope of having any fun.”

  Jesse hung up the phone and left. Chaplain Greer was going to hear about this. Apologizing in person was not all it was cracked up to be.

  Ron wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but the young man sitting across from him definitely was a bit of a surprise. Lamar Takahashi’s dark African American skin, hazel Asian eyes, and blond, curly hair practically assaulted the senses. Ron had certainly encountered many different cultures and races, but never so many wrapped up into one person.

  Lamar droned on for five minutes about his career in patrol, until finally, looking as if he needed to add something more exciting, he said, “My mother is black, my father is Asian, and I was raised in Australia by an American nanny. I came to the United States when I was eighteen, became a citizen, and I’ve been here ever since.”

  “It says in your file you’re interested in doing UC work.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why? What interests you about it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve got a lot of people who do know, so you might want to give me a bit more than, ‘I don’t know.’”

  “Maybe it’s because my nanny wouldn’t ever let me out of the house.”

  Ron glanced at his notes. “You’ve been a patrol officer for eight years. You’ve flunked the promotional exam twice.”

  “It’s a stupid test.”

  “What makes it stupid, exactly?”

  “It has nothing to do with the street. The test is a bunch of rules and regulations that you should know, sure, but at the end of the day, it’s all about instinct.”

  “What makes you think you would be good at undercover work? We have to follow the rules and regulations just like everybody else. This is no place for a maverick.”

  “True, but it’s no place for those who worship the policy and procedure tests either, is it?”

  “We still have to draw lines in undercover work, or we’re no better than the people we’re bringing down. You have to understand that and never compromise.”

  “I understand.”

  Ron studied Lamar. “Lamar, what languages do you speak?”

  “Just English.”

  “Oh. Um, what about accents? Do you do any accents?”

  “I do a nice John Wayne impression.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  “I was just hoping, with your background, you could bring some cultural diversity to the table.”

  “I can make stir-fry taste like barbecue.”

  “That’s quite a talent.”

  Lamar leaned forward. “I know this is what I’m meant to do.”

  Ron saw it in Lamar’s eyes. Ambition. A love for it. He stood. “I’ll let you know, Officer Takahashi. Thanks for taking the time to come in.”

  Jackie buzzed him. “Sergeant Yeager, Detective Lunden is here.”

  “Thanks, Jackie.”

  “Oh, and Sergeant Yeager?”

  “Yes?”

  “Your wife called, wanted to remind you to take your heart medication.”

  “Thanks,” Ron said, sighing. He glanced at Lamar, who was studying the cane leaning against his desk. He shook Lamar’s hand. “I’ll be in touch.”

  He watched Lamar leave and then took out Jesse Lunden’s file. Time to meet his problem child.

  Chapter 8

  Rhyne Grello watched Bobby drive the minivan through the large garage door and into the warehouse. He pulled the warehouse door closed as Bobby rolled down the window. “Where do you want it?”

  Rhyne pointed to the far corner.

  “Over there?” Bobby asked above the noise of four men working to disassemble a Lincoln. “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  “We’re ready to take a load out to Griffin’s shop.”

  The side door opened, and Mason Capps strolled across the concrete toward Rhyne. “Give me a minute, will you?” Rhyne asked Bobby. The minivan rolled past, and Mason approached, his hands stuffed in his pockets and guilt written all over his face.

  “Heard you had a long night.”

  “I posted bail; let’s just drop it.”

  Rhyne turned toward his friend. They’d known each other since they were seven years old. Their parents used to play poker together every Friday night, and their dads worked at the same casino. Mason had always been the irresponsible one, the one who got them caught when they were doing something wrong.

  “We can’t afford this,” Rhyne said bluntly. “There’s too much at stake.”

  “Look, it went down in Henderson. It was my first time.”

  “You assured me you weren’t dealing on the side.”

  “It was stupid, okay? I admit it. Can we just get past this?” Mason nodded toward Bobby. “So are we going to Griffin’s tonight?”

  Rhyne shook his head and said, “I’m getting word Griffin’s may go down. I don’t want to risk it.”

  “So whadda we do?”

  “Hang tight.”

  “We could turn three thousand dollars tonight.”

  “Or turn up in jail.”

  “C’mon, Rhyne. You’re going to let some rumors stop you? Griffin’s good for it. We already know that.”

  “We don’t want to be in the middle of a shakedown.”

  “We’ve heard rumors about Griffin’s for months. Nothing has happened.”

  “We’re going to sit on this, Mason.”

  “What am I supposed to tell the guys?” Mason asked.

  “Maybe you could give them a lesson about how greed can take you down.” He gave Mason a hard look. “I’ve been telling you that for years. You’re always in a rush.”

  “We strike while the iron’s hot. If we wait, somebody else will bring the goods to Griffin’s and then we got nothin’.”

  “Nothing?” Rhyne nodded toward the minivan. “That’s something.”

  “Yeah, that was quick,” Mason said, the excitement obvious in his voice.

  “Don’t say anything. I told the other guys my sister needed it fixed.”

  “What can I say? You haven’t told me much.”

  Bobby approached and Rhyne nodded toward the Lincoln. “Finish that up, then head into Henderson; try to drop a few parts at Davey’s.”

  “Henderson,” Bobby groaned. “The yuppie place that always asks questions.”

  “It’s a formality. They ask so they can say they asked. They don’t care what the answers are. As long as we keep it small, they’re not going to get nervous. Now get back to work and stop giving me a hard time.”

  Bobby walked back over to the Lincoln. Rhyne turned to Mason and lowered his voice.

  “We leave in three hours.”

  Jesse rounded the corner and entered the first office on the right, as the secretary had instructed. An older man sat at a desk with his attention on a folder. The office was nearly bare.

  “Sorry,” he said as the old guy looked up. “I think I have the wrong office.”

  “Who are you looking for?”

  “Sergeant Yeager.”

  “That’s me.”

  “Oh …” Kay. Is that a cane leaning against his desk?
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  “Come on in.”

  Jesse stuffed his hands in his pockets. He would normally try to get a feel for the person based on the office decor, but since the walls were bare, he just dropped into the chair and looked at the man.

  “Thanks for seeing me on such short notice.” Yeager removed his bifocals, and Jesse wasn’t entirely sure he could see without them.

  “Sure,” said Jesse. “You are aware I have no idea what this is about, right?”

  “I’m trying to keep this under the radar a bit. We’re setting up an undercover task force—Task Force Viper.”

  “Who is we? Isn’t this the Property Crimes Bureau?”

  “Yes. We’re losing about two cars an hour. I need some good UC officers who can help me bring down an auto-theft ring.”

  “You’re heading it?”

  “Captain Laura Gates is. She appointed me to lead and train the UC team.”

  “Train?” Jesse laughed. “I’ve been working undercover in narcotics for three years. I don’t need training.”

  The sergeant looked at the folder on his desk. “I’ve read your file. You do have a lot of experience.” He paused and looked up. “But in three years, you’ve closed less than forty percent of your cases. There’s always room for improvement.”

  Jesse crossed his arms. “Look, with all due respect, I don’t think I’m interested, okay? I’ve got a good thing going in Henderson.”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s nothing personal.”

  “I understand. You think narcotics is where the game is.”

  “Sergeant, maybe you’d have better luck with some of the vice guys. They all stay a couple of years in Henderson, but some of them are itching to get out.”

  “Interesting.”

  “For some of the less experienced UC guys, auto theft would be a step up.”

  “But it’s a step down for you.”

  “No insult intended. I just like working narcotics.”

  “A six-month stint in this task force could widen your radius of experience.”

  “I could give you a few names of guys who might be more of what you’re looking for.”

  The sergeant smiled. “You’re not what I’m looking for?”

  “I’m flattered. But I don’t have any interest in doing auto theft.”

  Sergeant Yeager closed his folder. “Thanks for the offer of names. But I just have one more spot to fill. And actually, one of the guys I just brought on gave me your name. Said you were one of the best.”

  “Who’s that?”

  He looked down at a paper on his desk. “Elliot Stillman.”

  “Dozer?” Jesse blinked. “Elliot signed on?”

  “About three hours ago.”

  Chapter 9

  What do you think you’re doing?” Jesse said as Dozer swung open his front door. He didn’t seem surprised to see Jesse. Despite Dozer’s apparent grogginess, he still looked guilty. They walked to the living room where Sarah was rocking Emmy.

  “Hi, Jess,” she said.

  Jesse tried to mind his manners. He’d learned long ago never to get on a wife’s bad side. Even when she’s not your wife. “How’s Emmy doing?”

  “Fighting sleep, like usual. She’s only three months. Sleep is what they’re supposed to be doing.”

  “So she doesn’t take after her father, then,” Jesse said with a smile.

  Sarah laughed. “Not yet.”

  “Let’s go to the back patio,” Dozer said. “You want something to drink?”

  Jesse shook his head and followed Elliot out the back door. A small table sat between two lounge chairs. The air was cool and felt good in his lungs.

  “I was going to tell you,” Dozer said. “I just haven’t had a chance. Grace has been sick, Taylor needed help with her homework, and Emmy’s got the colic thing going.” Dozer sighed. “I knew you’d be upset.”

  “Why would you take this? We’ve got good things going in Henderson.”

  “You’ve got good things going. I’m still feeling my way through. You got me on in narcotics, and I really appreciated that. But ever since then, I’ve been following your lead, trying to get better, but not doing so great. Sergeant Yeager promised some training, and I could use that. I think it would be interesting to explore auto theft. I can’t do UC work forever, and I don’t really like narcotics that much.” He leaned back into his chair. “I’ve wanted to get in with Vegas for a while. It’s better pay. Sarah could quit her part-time job. Its only a six-month task force, but it could get my foot in the door.” Dozer reclined in the chair. “Yeager mentioned you were coming in later, and I told him you were really good, that you’d be a huge asset to the team. I was hoping you might sign up.”

  Jesse stared into the small backyard, the moonlight washing out the green grass. “I’ve wanted to get into Vegas narcotics forever. But this is auto theft. Not my sweet spot. Plus, I get to do things how I want to do them now. If I move into Vegas, it’s a new ballgame. Bigger city, more hoops to jump through. Plus, how old do you think Yeager is? Dozer, swear to me that when we get that old, we’ll get desk jobs and take our bathroom breaks every fifteen minutes. I mean, did you see the guy’s cane?”

  Dozer didn’t answer. His head had fallen backward and he was snoring lightly. Jesse nudged him, but he was out. He rose and found Sarah still in the living room. Emmy’s wide-awake eyes were focused on the ceiling fan. “Narco Polo is out cold.” Jesse swore the guy had narcolepsy, but getting him to go to the doctor was like getting Jesse to go to the doctor. Impossible.

  She smiled. “Sorry about that.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, I don’t want to have to come up with a new nickname for him … Do I need to carry him to his room or something?”

  “Nah. He’ll eventually wake up and stumble into bed.”

  “All right. Well, good luck with Emmy.”

  “Thanks, Jess. See you soon.”

  As Jesse walked toward his truck, he couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like working UC without Dozer. He began to wonder if he’d made his stupidest career move yet. Or nonmove. Either way, it was a good thing he’d never considered Dozer a good-luck charm.

  Ron walked up the sidewalk to his home ready to bite someone’s head off. Pastor Kyle’s car was parked out front again. When Ron stepped through the front door, Pastor Kyle stood abruptly. Nan had crossed the line, but Ron suspected she already knew that.

  She sure didn’t look nervous when he glared at her.

  “Hi, honey,” she said with a smile.

  Kyle, on the other hand, was practically shaking. Ron decided he might as well have some fun. He gave Kyle a look that instantly made Kyle grow pale. The look worked on bad guys, but it worked even better on good guys. “What’s going on here?”

  “Ron, knock it off,” Nan said. “You’re scaring the poor kid to death.”

  “Why is Kyle here again?”

  “You’re being rude,” Nan said, still sitting comfortably on the couch.

  “I’m sorry to just drop by,” Kyle said quickly, fumbling his fingers around each other, “but Nan said I could stay until you got home. And she’s cooking.”

  “Stay for dinner? Nan’s cooking without Schwan? Kyle, you may be about to witness your first miracle.”

  “Who is Schwan?” Kyle asked.

  “Our private chef.”

  “Funny, very funny,” Nan said from the couch. “Keep it up, and I’ll be cooking for one.”

  Ron turned to Kyle. “So why are you here?”

  “I wanted to talk to you about your career.”

  “My career?”

  “I’m just curious about it, that’s all,” Kyle said. “I think it sounds really interesting.”

  “Oh, it is. Fascinating,” Nan piped in from the couch. “If you’re lucky, he might even show you his guns.”

  Ron dialed back the expression. Kyle looked as genuinely curious as he did frightened. Ron gestured toward the couch so they could sit.
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br />   “Nan was telling me all about your career in undercover work,” Kyle said, sitting as far away as he could from Nan.

  Ron set his cane in the corner. “That was a long time ago. I haven’t done undercover work in a while.”

  “Nan says you’re back.”

  “I’m not back; I’m just training some kids and leading a task force.”

  “You even talk like them!”

  “Like who?”

  “The cops on those TV shows. I watch all the CSIs, all the Law & Orders. I had no idea a man in my congregation did this for a living!” Kyle’s eyes were wide with excitement.

  “Kyle, I’m flattered that you find my work interesting. But those television shows, well, they don’t always paint an accurate picture of—”

  “I’ve been intrigued with undercover work ever since I saw Donnie Brasco.”

  Nan chuckled.

  “And 24. Do you watch 24?”

  “Kyle,” Ron said, “I know it sounds fascinating. And it is certainly interesting and can be exciting, but it’s not quite like the movies.”

  “But it’s dangerous work, right? I mean, it’s really dangerous.”

  “Actually, patrol officers on the graveyard shift have a much more dangerous job. For that matter, any patrol officer.”

  “Really?”

  “Undercover work is very controlled and planned. Every time patrol officers pull someone over or get a call, they have no idea what they’re walking into.”

  “But it’s got to be crazy pretending you’re a bad guy. Have you ever been shot?” Kyle’s eyes were so wide now that Ron wondered if something more exciting might be going on behind him.

  “No.”

  “Have you had to shoot someone?”

  Ron didn’t want to go there. “Kyle, look, as much as I’d like to keep talking about this, I’m sure you need to head home and get some sleep. I know how tiring the ministry can be.”

  Kyle’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t really have anything going on tomorrow.” He looked at Ron. “I was hoping I could hang out with you.”

  “Hang out with me?”

  “I’ve got a sabbatical coming to me.”

  “Aren’t you a little young for a sabbatical?”

  “It’s a postmodern thing,” Nan said, shrugging.