One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 12, page 9

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Lawperson Séara Nulıpésha wiped her eyes with her uniform cuff as she led the pretend emperor toward her cruiser. Senior Lawman Vomıvé had reported that Mr. Kılímo had had a heart attack. And here was Séara ignoring his pain, following orders.

Bhanar had wanted to help, but she couldn’t let him, all because of her plagued orders, all because of proper protocol. Séara just had to assure herself that Vomıvé, Tépíto, and the others were doing everything they could for Mr. Kılímo. And yet they were the ones who had beat him till he collapsed. They weren’t helping him out of friendship or compassion. They were helping him to cover their butts. She sniffled, feeling the tears welling in her eyes again, just at the thought of her old friend lying on the floor in agony, probably dying.

Detective Marıdaré approached, blocking her route. He covered a yawn with his pudgy fist before saying, “What’s going on out here?” He chewed continuously, probably on tobacco.

Séara stopped, gripping Bhanar’s arm tight. “I’m taking this suspect back to our holding cells.” She clenched her teeth, trying to keep her face impassive. “Everyone else is focused on Mr. Kılímo.”

Interwoven and quickly growing louder through the several male voices behind Séara, footsteps slapped the concrete. She tugged Bhanar to the side just before a paramedic jogged past, headed for the back of his ambulance. At least somebody wants to help the poor old man. She sniffed. A tear ran down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, hoping the detective wouldn’t notice.

Mr. Marıdaré ignored her lack of discipline and rubbed his chin, glancing at Bhanar. “So this is the punk who shot the Enforcer?” He obviously didn’t recognize Bhanar from television or the magazines.

Bhanar stared straight at the detective, his angular face strong and unflinching. Even though his Sarıman wasn’t the best, he probably understood the detective’s meaning.

Séara shook her head, then shrugged. “Maybe. Another suspect is still on the loose, last seen in the back yard by the Enforcers.”

Mr. Marıdaré snorted and spat a brown stream into the bushes. “But they lost him, of course.”

“Of course,” replied Séara, grateful that someone else’s police skills were being demeaned, for a change.

The medic raced the other direction, carrying a defibrillator kit.

“Process him,” ordered the detective. “I’ll question him in the morning.” His mouth never stopped working the tobacco as he stared past them toward the other police officers, whose voices began rising in argument.

“Yes, sir.”

Séara didn’t particularly care what the lawpersons and Enforcers were arguing about, just so long as the medics were focused on reviving Mr. Kılímo. She pushed Bhanar’s arm forward to get him moving again. They walked around Mr. Marıdaré and onto the gravel.

Senior Lawman Vomıvé had parked directly behind Séara’s automobile. She sniffled as she visually measured the distances on either side. If she ran over those couple creosote bushes, she’d make it out fine, but trust Vomıvé to not think of his fellow lawpersons.

The constabulary’s helicopter cruised past, momentarily drowning out all other sound and kicking up a fine spray of ochre dust. Séara tilted her face away from the artificial wind as the dirt settled. As she resumed guiding Bhanar toward her cruiser, Séara let the tears flow freely down her cheeks, now able to blame them on dust in her eyes. Her childhood friend would soon be no more, and she had done nothing to help him.

As she opened her cruiser’s back door, Bhanar said, “My truck. My belongings.” He jerked his head down the driveway.

Séara didn’t look that direction, just in case it was an unlikely distraction. She’d seen a blue truck in the ditch when she drove up. It must be his.

“Don’t worry,” she replied, careful to use short sentences so he’d understand. “Someone will guard it. No one will take anything.”

She placed her hand atop his head, crushing his spiky gelled hairdo, and guided him into the back seat.

With a longing glance toward the Kılímos’ house, she shut the cruiser door.

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