Triple Double. James Lewis

Let him know all three of us are here and on it. Maybe he can buy us more time in Idaho to find out the reasoning for the attack.” Ron made the call.

      *****

      Christian was taller than Abron by an inch. Constantly in a struggle to stay below 240 pounds, he had just spent 8 weeks dieting down to 227 with noticeably more energy at the lower weight. Maybe, he thought, shedding more weight down to 215 would enhance his physical abilities to an even greater extent. The elevator battle he was constantly waging stemmed from one source: a must in his life, Tammy. Tammy was Italian, and Tammy could cook. With an inheritance, the first item she bought for their house was a two-tiered brick-lined oven that stood five feet tall. Every kid in the neighborhood knew when she was baking Italian bread. The kids would knock on the side door in pretense of asking Tammy and Christian’s twins if they could come out and play. When she opened the door, Tammy always had a platter of fresh bread, buttered and straight out of the oven. The twins, Cody and Jody, were younger than most of their half-dozen neighborhood playmates. The siblings were thrilled every time they heard the knock on the side door. It was playtime! In years to come, the twins would become as important as the bread. Theirs was a tight bond.

      Christian’s take-home pay allowed Tammy to be a stay-at-home mom. She didn’t take the nicety for granted. Her thoughts were on the other mothers in the neighborhood, PTA meetings, baby showers, birthdays, luncheons, etc. Mrs. Caine knew most of the other moms worked full- or part-time jobs. Christian didn’t care one way or the other. He liked to eat—chicken cacciatore, veal piccata, lasagna, Italian meatballs. Tammy knew Christian loved linguini over spaghetti, so it was always linguini. For his birthdays, she strayed from Italian cuisine and would make his “favorite dish of all time,” as he would say—beef stroganoff with extra sour cream. The local butcher always sold her prime-grade filet mignon to use in her dish. After all, he thought, she’s cooking for Lieutenant Christian Caine. If Christian worked out every day of his life and took half portions each time he ate, he just might stay under three hundred pounds.

      *****

      Terry and Christian were the first to arrive at the hospital on day 7 of Abron’s hospitalization. His head was immobilized with a cage, pins anchoring it to his skull. He could, however, finally move his arms and legs slightly. Kelsey had asked a nurse for a mirror to see how extensive the cage was surrounding his head. All he could do was try to whistle when he saw the metal anchor screws. Terry spoke first. “How does it feel to be incarcerated?” Terry and Christian were grinning.

      Abron tried to smile, murmuring “How long?”

      “This is your seventh day, my friend,” replied Terry.

      “A lot has taken place since your ambush. New connections have opened-up, too, for all four killings our department is involved with,” said Christian.

      A third voice spoke. “No more questions. Dr. Marsh just instructed me to limit everyone’s time spent with Abron. Right now, I need some time alone with Deputy Kelsey,” bellowed their captain. Terry and Christian were outgunned. They quickly said their goodbyes, vowing to return later that evening.

      “Christian already filled me in on why you two visited the Rose Lake crime scene. When he notified me of your meeting, I cleared it with Captain Croop and Lieutenant Bara at CDASD. My question, before your attack, would have been, what was to be gained? Obviously, the result was brilliant police work that almost got you killed. The two of you tipped somebody’s hand. At the same time, you gave our department greater autonomy at Rose Lake. You guys seem to have stirred up the proverbial hornet’s nest.”

      “Captain,” whispered Abron, “traces of opiate and hidden room.”

      “Are you sure about the presents of opiates?” asked Saunders. Kelsey blinked assent. “I’m calling in Terry and Ron to debrief you tomorrow morning. Should Christian be present?”

      “Yes” came Abron’s slur.

      “Rest while you can. Take your meds, and pay close attention to Scott, your rehab guy. He’s the best in the business. You’re probably a couple of weeks out from Scott. Listen to him when you start. He can work wonders with his knowledge and methods. As I said, the boys will be in to start a report on your crime scene and attackers.

      The next morning, Terry, Ron, and Christian entered Abron’s room. He was just finishing up his liquid diet and cut fruit. “Good morning, are you ready for us?” Ron questioned. Kelsey blinked assent. The officers kept it short, realizing again just how badly Abron had been injured. “They came in via a dirt road that runs along the river. The tire tracks had the same studded tires on the rear drivers as the prints over at Neuman Lake.” Terry was trying to give Abron some positive information. Abron’s head was beginning the early stages of a massive migraine. Kelsey began to convulse. The officers wasted no time bringing assistance. Less than thirty seconds later, Kelsey was lost to the world thanks to the cocktail the nurse shot him full of.

      “I hope he can get over these episodes,” commented Ron. The deputies were shaking their heads as they departed his room.

      *****

      Sergeant Mike Gwen was a little taken aback at the size of the county abutting Los Angeles. His new territory ran all the way east to the Colorado River at Needles and down the river south to Parker Dam. Detectives Rowe and Hollander had sent information on the double homicides, coupling it with a report on Deputy Kelsey’s attack and injuries, to all agencies in the Great Northwest and to Gwen personally. They received a dozen hits for more information from Salt Lake to Portland, Seattle, and even from Shelby, Montana. This morning it was Sergeant Gwen’s email that stood out. Gwen mainly wanted to know if his friend was going to survive. Kelsey’s and Gwen’s personalities had bonded immediately when they first met. Mike had been trying to get up to speed with the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department when the news arrived about Abron’s brush with death. The news would have to wait until the end of the day. Important training overruled his questions for the immediate now.

      Sergeant Gwen had not dealt with the harshness of gang activity as found in his new county of work. Today he was being schooled along with several other deputies. Every day he was gaining in knowledge and confidence. There were drugs, drive-by shootings, prostitution, even a terrorist attack by a man and women claiming to be aligned with ISIS. The two had senselessly murdered over a dozen American patriots busy doing their everyday jobs. Mike appreciated the highly organized sheriff’s department. They were adept and armed with information and special training programs to help combat city, county and inland empire crime. Every day Mike looked forward to briefings and assignments. It was a busy world of law enforcement at his new position.

      Late that afternoon, sitting in front of the computer, the reply took less than two minutes after his inquiry. “Officer Gwen, Abron out of danger, full recover expected. When can we have a beer?” It was emailed by Terry Hollander.

      *****

      Ron Rowe had been partnered with Terry Hollander for some time. Through their many investigations, they had worked out ways to tackle different situations as they occurred. Detective Rowe joined the Spokane Sheriff’s Office right out of high school and the police academy. Ron was one of Captain Saunders’s first recruits. Saunders admired Ron’s attitude toward his duties. Before he captured the full scope of Ron’s abilities, Shawn had already aligned him as a kindred spirit. Both officers had a love of the Northwest, fishing, hunting, camping, skiing, motorcycles, snowmobiles, and speed boats. Two kids in the same office. One thirty years the senior.

      Ron came from a loving family with both parents solidly entrenched in life around Kamiah, Idaho. With six siblings, his communications skills were inbred. Ron would someday have a large family. Unfortunately, Ms. Right, hadn’t come along yet. His dad first brought Ron’s attention to his ways. “You’re a deputy, son. Why all the drinking and carousing? Your mom and I think you need to join a church. Maybe then you’ll find a loving wife.” Ron believed his dad and took his advice. He didn’t stop at one church. Ron began attending