The Territory (Josie Gray Mysteries #1)(79)
Josie pulled out onto the gravel road with no answer, but she was positive they were getting close. She called the Loan to Own office and asked Cammie to notify her immediately if Fallow tried to return the storage unit.
*
The shift from 4:30 P.M. to 1:00 A.M. was Josie’s favorite time to work. Life did not really begin until the nine-to-five workday ended. It was when people fought and made up. After sunset, people let their guard down and said things that were not appropriate during the day. The dark gave people something to hide behind. Even as a kid, she had liked nighttime. Her mom would take off for whatever scheme she had cooked up, and Josie would have the house to herself—a relief from the tension of living with her mother’s mood swings.
She walked to the back of the office and pushed open the large windows to allow a warm, fresh breeze into the office. Otto would complain later that she had let out all the cool air, but it was worth his grumbling. She could hear the faint street sounds from below, the occasional laugh or yell from a kid riding by on a bicycle. Even with the past week’s hell, she would not trade her small town for the big city. She had lived in Indianapolis for two years and worked as a patrol officer in the downtown division. Too many people in too small an area.
Otto had been called out on a domestic dispute, and Josie had stayed back to catch up on the stacks of paperwork and phone messages that had gone unanswered the past few days. She had made the warrant request from the judge for the storage trailer and then settled in to wait for the response. She hoped to have an answer within an hour. She sat at her desk and sorted the stacks of paper into a top-ten to-do list for the night and felt her anxiety over the pileup begin to subside.
In the middle of replying to an e-mail from Jimmy Dixon from Border Patrol, Lou buzzed her on the intercom and said Sheriff Martínez was on his way up to see her. Josie felt sick. She had dreaded talking with him since the arrest of Bloster at the jail, and she had put off calling him despite her resolutions. She had no idea how Martínez might view the events that took place in his own jail.
Martínez walked into the office in uniform, looking pale and tired. He was a large-framed man who typically carried himself at his full height. He walked in the room slump shouldered, his black hair unkempt.
Josie stood from her desk and pulled out two chairs at the big wooden conference table. “Can I get you coffee?” she asked, hoping to gauge his mood.
He shook his head and sat, crossed a leg, and gave her his complete attention. “I came to apologize. Hack Bloster should never have treated you the way he did and got away with it. You were dead right with him, and if I’d responded correctly, some of what happened this past week would have been avoided.”
She was surprised at the apology. “I hope you understood my position. I hated to call Escobedo, not because of Moss, but because of you. I just didn’t know where else to turn.”
“You should have been able to turn to me, but I had my head stuck up my back end.”
She started to speak, and Martínez interrupted her with a hand.
“Dillon brought the paperwork to me this morning. I appreciate him bringing it directly to me. He sat down and explained everything. Bloster scammed close to twenty thousand dollars over the past six months right under my nose. Our budget can’t take that kind of hit. I just finished a meeting with the mayor. I gave him everything.”
Josie winced. “What was his response?”
“Typical Moss. His first instinct was cover it up, keep it from the voters, what’s done is done. I asked him, How do you cover up sewage? Bloster’s already in jail. What’s the point in covering up at this point? You could see his shifty little eyes calculate. Pretty soon he’d flipped. He decided he was the one who ferreted out the dirty cop and closed the connection with the cartels. Saved our town from anarchy. No doubt, you’ll see the headlines in the paper this week.”
Josie’s jaw dropped before she laughed, the first good laugh she’d had all day. “Our hero.”
“At this point, I’d let about anyone take the credit.”
“Have you talked to Bloster since his arrest?”
“Briefly. I had some questions for my own piece of mind. I couldn’t figure out why Red, a guy who hates Mexicans, goes into business selling them guns.”
“You don’t think Red would sell his principles for a profit?”
“Bloster claims he sold the cartels guns so they’d kill each other off. So, yeah, his so-called principles were a joke.”
“What happens now?”
He closed his eyes and rubbed them with his thumb and forefinger. The silence stretched for some time before he finally looked up, his cheeks sagging and eyes bloodshot. “It won’t matter what happens. Hack Bloster has ruined my standing in this community. There will be people who can’t wait to see me fired, guilty or not.”
“Come on, Martínez, buck up. You don’t let those people get to you on a normal day. Why now? There’s always buzzards waiting for the carnage. Just like there are people that support you every day.” She paused and reached across the table to tap him on the forearm. “We’ll still support you. The people who hated you before will hate you still.”
“Except now I’ve given them reason.”
Josie banged a fist on the table. “Listen to yourself! You sound like one of those women who won’t accuse a rapist because she thinks it’s her fault somehow! Bloster scammed the system. He scammed you, the commissioners, the mayor, the whole town for his own selfish gain.”