Good Day In Hell. J.D. Rhoades

it easy,” Keller said. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his thumb hooked into the waistband of his jeans. “He did great.”

      “You can’t just go coldcocking people,” Angela said. “Even if they are jumpers.”

      “Well…” Keller said. “He, ah…he didn’t really have much choice.”

      Angela sat down. “What aren’t you telling me?” She looked from Sanchez’s face to Keller’s. Neither would meet her eyes. Finally Sanchez sighed. “Manuel Olivera had a knife. He pulled it on me.”

      “I see.” Her face was expressionless. She took a deep breath. “Oscar,” she said after a long moment. “Would you excuse us for a minute?”

      Sanchez crossed his arms across his chest. “No,” he said. “I am not a child. This is about me. You do not send me out of the room to discuss it.”

      Angela put her face in her hands. It was warm in the office and she had removed the gloves which she usually wore. The web of burn scars on the backs of her hands shone pale white in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the office.

      “Okay then,” she said finally as she put her hands down. She looked at Keller. “There wasn’t supposed to be any violence.” Her face was calm, her voice controlled, but there was no mistaking the accusation.

      Keller shrugged, holding his own temper in check. “There was nothing in his priors that said he’d go off like that. There wasn’t any way to know.”

      “He panic,” Sanchez said. “Sorry…he panicked.” “Okay,” Angela said. Her voice cracked slightly on the second syllable. She cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said in a firmer voice. “What’s done is done. But Oscar, that’s the last time. You don’t go out on takedowns anymore.”

      Sanchez stood up slowly. His face was dark with anger. “I decide that, Angela.” His accent had gotten thicker with his agitation and the name came out as An-he-la.

      Angela stood up and put her hands on the desk. “This is my business, Oscar,” she said. “I decide who works for me and how.”

      Sanchez gestured at Keller. “He puts himself in danger all the time,” he said. “And you care for him. I know you do.”

      “That’s different,” Angela snapped. “He … it’s just different.”

      “Si, I know,” Sanchez said. He hobbled to the door, wincing. Keller moved out of his way. “He is not a cripple,” Sanchez said as he walked out. After a few moments, they heard the bell on the front door jingle as he walked out into the street.

      Angela sat back down and folded her arms in front of her on the desk. She put her head down on them. Keller sat down in the seat Sanchez had just vacated. He waited silently. Finally, Angela looked up. “I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?” she said.

      “Yeah,” Keller said.

      She looked at him. “Keller, you think just once you could lie to make me feel better?”

      “I doubt it. It wouldn’t work.”

      “Damn it, Jack, he’s a schoolteacher. He’s not a bounty hunter.”

      “He was a schoolteacher back in Colombia,” Keller said. “He’s been through a lot since then.”

      Angela laughed sharply. “That’s an understatement.”

      Then she sighed. “I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

      “Sounds like you guys are getting pretty close.”

      “Yeah,” she said.

      “That’s good. He’s a good man.” Something in his voice made Angela look up.

      “What?”

      He shook his head. “Nothing.” He stood up. “You need me to do anything else?”

      She stood up as well. “Come on, Jack,” she said. “Don’t dodge. This is me you’re talking to.”

      He shrugged. “There’s no point. We’ve both moved on.”

      “Yeah,” she said. “We have. That doesn’t mean there’s no point in us talking.” She smiled sadly. “We’ve done this conversation, Jack. It never would have worked between the two of us. But you’re still my best friend.” She walked over and slipped her arm around his waist. He put an arm around her shoulder. He squeezed gently, mindful of the bum scars on her back and shoulders that still pained her. “I know,” he said.

      She gave him a final squeeze and stepped away. For a moment it left an empty feeling at his side. “I’ll finish the paperwork on Olivera,” she said.

      “You still want to split the fee with Oscar?”

      “Yeah.”

      “What split?”

      Keller considered. “Fifty-fifty. I found the guy, he did the takedown. Plus, he needs the money.”

      She smiled. “You’re a pretty good guy yourself, Keller.” She picked up a file off the counter and handed it to him. “I’ve got another one for you, anyway.”

      He flipped the file open. At the top was a picture of a young blonde woman. It was not a flattering picture; mug shots rarely were. The woman’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot under an unruly thatch of short blonde hair. Her prominent jaw was thrust defiantly forward toward the camera. He pulled the picture out and set it aside.

      “Laurel Marks,” Angela said. “Missed her court date two days ago.”

      Keller found the release order, written on flimsy blue paper. He saw the amount of bail and whistled. “Seventy-five grand? What the hell’d she do?”

      “ADW,” Angela said. “She was working as a waitress at the Omelet House on Market Street. Went for one of her co-workers with a carving knife one morning.”

      “Not a morning person, I guess. Still, seventy-five K is a lot. She doesn’t have the kind of priors that would lead to that much bond.”

      “Not as an adult. But I talked to the magistrate. She’s got a pretty bad juvie record. The magistrates know her by sight, and so did Judge Banning. The magistrate was trying to get a message across.”

      “You’re playing in the big leagues now, kid,” Keller said.

      “Right. And when she drew Judge Banning for her arraignment…” She grimaced. “I don’t think Banning’s reduced a bond since he went on the bench.”

      Keller looked up. “What kind of record?” “Drugs, mostly. But some assaults. Little girl’s got a temper, it seems.”

      “Kids don’t usually learn that kind of anger on their own,” Keller said. “Any Social Services involved?”

      Angela nodded. “The magistrate said there was. He didn’t know any details.”

      “Well, not likely that Social Services is going to give us anything. Any family in the area?”

      “Both parents are local.”

      “They the ones who put up the cash?”

      Angela shook her head. “No. Some guy. Said he was a friend of hers.”

      Keller arched an eyebrow. “Huh. Must’ve been some friend to put up ten percent of seventy-five grand.” He flipped the file open again and read the name on the bail bond application. “Roy Randle.”

      “Yeah,” Angela said. “Older guy, maybe early forties.”

      Keller frowned. “You think maybe he’s pimping her?”

      “I doubt it,” Angela said. “Not many pimps would shell out seventy-five hundred to get a girl out of jail.”

      “Unless he was trying