A Bad Day for Sunshine (Sunshine Vicram #1)(125)
“But how did you even end up in your brother’s place?”
“He was out on bail. He skipped. I was mistaken for him and hauled in right before the trial.”
“So, you just went with it? You let them believe you were your brother? That you’d committed armed robbery?”
“I owed him.”
“You spent three years in prison for something you didn’t do. You did time for your brother.”
“What was I going to do? Rat him out? I got busted. They thought I was him. I just let them.”
“I am astoundingly impressed.”
“Don’t be.”
“I hope he knows how lucky he is.”
“He’s not that lucky. We all have penance to pay.”
“That we do, Poetry.”
“How did you know?” he asked her, seeming impressed himself.
“The footage from the transport van and the mug shot.”
“What about them?”
She slid some screenshots to him. “You guys did a good job keeping your tats identical, but you must’ve gotten a new one in prison.” She pointed behind her ear, indicating the cross he had that ran from behind his down the side of this neck.
“You caught that? Damn.”
“Well, that and you’ve clearly eaten better than he has. He’s gaunt compared to you.”
He looked at the mug shot again. “He doesn’t look well.”
“Maybe prison will do him good? Get him clean?”
“Prison doesn’t do anyone any good.” He took a drink of the hot chocolate. “Your kid’s pretty great.”
“Yes, she is.”
“So, is that why you dragged me in here? To gloat?”
“No, I can gloat anytime. Would you like to see your brother? I can arrange it. On one condition.”
He’d gone from intrigued to wary in the time it took to snap. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“I have an opening. I need a deputy.”
He stilled again, only this time, his expression would suggest he was questioning her sanity. Why were people always doing that?
“You have the instincts. You clearly have the guts. You’re level-headed AF. You have a bachelor’s in criminal justice. You’re like the poster child for entry-level law enforcement.”
“Right, only you forgot a couple of things. I’m a convicted felon. And I just spent three years in prison.”
“No. Your brother is a convicted felon. You haven’t spent a single day inside. You’ve never even been arrested. I checked.”
He took another swig and shook his head. “Look, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m not your guy.”
“You saved that little girl’s life.”
His surprise shone through in glowing Technicolor. “That wasn’t—I didn’t mean—that wasn’t what it looked like.”
“You didn’t jump off a cliff onto a frozen lake to save a little girl’s life?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like I gave it a lot of thought. It just happened.”
She held out her hand. “Welcome to the force, Deputy Rojas. I’m your sheriff, Sunshine Vicram.”
A set of dimples emerged when he offered her the barest hint of an astonished smile. He took her hand. “I can’t believe this.”
“I know. Aren’t they soft? I use extra moisturizing lotion. A girl can’t be too moisturized these days.”
He breathed out a laugh as though unable to wrap his head around the events of the day.
Quincy appeared at the door. “I know what you’re thinking,” he said to him. “That you’re the only identical twin on the force. Nope. Me and Zee. It’ll be hard to tell us apart at first, but you’ll get used to it.” He flashed Rojas a thumbs-up, then left.
“Hey, isn’t Zee the one with the rifle?”
“Yes.”
“So, they’re not really—”
“No.”
He nodded and looked around the place, sizing it up. “Do I have to wear a uniform?”
“Yes.”
Despite the fact that the Del Sol County Sheriff’s Station brimmed with people of all shapes and sizes, many dressed in black, the atmosphere was subdued and somber. A woman in her late thirties held on to two small children with one hand and a tissue with the other, while others in the room stood with hands folded as they waited.
Sun nodded to her dispatch.
Anita pressed the button on the mic. “Dispatch to two-seven-two.”
The room went completely silent. Moments passed as people waited with a solemn respect.
Anita tried again. “Dispatch to unit two-seven-two.”
The woman in black buried her face in Quincy’s lapel and sobbed. He picked up her youngest child, then hugged her to him, fighting back tears himself.
Anita’s fingers curled around the mic, her knuckles white. “Final call for unit two-seven-two, Lieutenant Bobby Beauregard Britton.” She didn’t wait as long this time. Her emotions barely contained, her voice cracked when she came on one last time. “Two-seven-two is ten-seven. Badge number fourteen-twelve is at end of watch. Rest in peace, Lieutenant. You will be missed.”
The deputies gathered around Mrs. Britton to offer their condolences. Sun took Auri’s hand, her daughter’s eyes shimmering with unspent tears. Cruz scooted closer to her to offer his support as well.