I smiled. “Hello, Samuel Sterling.”
His smile got bigger and he noted, “You’re back.”
Well, that was interesting. It seemed Ty shared with his parole officer.
“Uh, yeah. Just over a week now. Would you, um… like to come in?” I invited, stepping aside so he could do so.
He didn’t move. He simply studied me. Then he remarked, “You have no clue who I am.”
“Uh –” I started, wondering, if I did say I had a clue who he was, if that would expose Dewey’s visit when he spoke again.
“Own a jet, Lexie,” he informed me quietly.
Oh my God!
I blinked. Then it was my turn to study him and it hit me that parole officers probably didn’t wear two hundred dollar, shiny, killer polo necked shirts nor did they have custom-made Italian loafers.
He smiled again, took three steps into the house and I turned with him as he did and shut the door behind me. Then I kept staring at him as his eyes did a sweep of the place and landed on the tees. Then they came back to me and his smile was huge.
Then he spoke. “I was close to town on business. Thought I’d stop by, see how Ty was seeing as how Ty was the last time I saw him was not good.” He dipped his head to the tees and commented, “I suspect he’s doing much better.”
“He is,” I whispered.
“Good,” he whispered back.
“Uh… thank you for, um… doing that favor for Ty and I. But back then I was just,” I threw out a hand, “well –”
“You don’t know me so you owe me no explanations, Lexie, I’m just glad you’re back.”
I grinned at him. “So am I.”
He grinned back then his eyes cut to the door behind me and his body went alert.
I turned around to see Deke at the glass. Deke didn’t knock. Deke opened the door and I jumped out of the way.
“He is?” he asked, jerking his head at Samuel Sterling.
“A friend of Ty’s,” I answered.
“What kind?” he shot back.
“The good kind,” I replied.
He sliced his eyes to Samuel Sterling then back to me. “Keys. Now.”
I still had my keys in my hand, I held them out to him, he took them and then he was gone.
I looked to Samuel Sterling who had his eyebrows raised and I shared, “We, um… have a bit of, uh… situation.”
His eyebrows lowered but his look turned sharp before he asked, “Can I help?”
“If you have time, you can stay for a drink and if the afternoon progresses like I think it will and I give any indication I might be losing my temper and on the verge of what my husband calls ‘throwing sass’, you can wrestle me out of the room no matter how much I fight you.”
He held my eyes. Then he said quietly, “So it’s that kind of situation.”
I sighed. Then I said, “We have that kind of situation every once in awhile. But we think we’re in the home stretch.” My eyes slid to the side and I muttered, “I hope.”
“Team Walker never admits defeat,” Samuel Sterling said and my eyes shot back to him.
“What?”
He moved to the counter and touched a tee. Then he looked back at me.
“Never admit defeat, Lexie. No matter the situation. And no matter what resources you have to call upon to do it.”
Then he dipped his chin without losing contact with my eyes and I could swear he was volunteering for duty.
I smiled at him. He smiled back.
I heard the garage door start to crank open and I whispered, “Deke’s back with my car.”
And he was. The garage door cranked down, Deke came up the stairs, looked at me, looked at Samuel then grunted, “Beer.”
I hustled to the fridge. Then I got Deke a beer. I gave him the bottle thinking he wouldn’t take offense. After asking his beverage preference, I also got Samuel one of Ty’s bottled waters but since he was obviously a millionaire or something, I poured it into a glass.
Then I got myself a diet and since I wasn’t on the phone with a Ty who was being sweet, my calm evaporated and I tried very hard as the minutes slipped by not to start hyperventilating.
Conversation was scarce and only included Samuel and me as Deke’s monosyllabic grunts made Samuel give up on him. Both men were sitting at the stools and I was at the side of the island when the air in the room started pulsating and my eyes went to the boys then to the door.
The glass showed another good-looking black man, light-skinned, close-cropped hair like Ty’s, close-trimmed beard unlike Ty, as tall as Samuel Sterling, as wiry as Dewey but in a lean, attractive way not in a jittery, felonious way and, even though I didn’t know him, he had a face that said he was pretty extremely displeased.
But he was not what I was looking at. I was looking at the man in the uniform standing behind and beside him, glowering through the glass. Older, he had thin, light brown hair going gray at the temples and beyond, a serious beer gut that fell well over the belt on his uniform pants and small, mean eyes.
Arnold Fuller, Chief of Police.
And more, beyond him was not only Officer Frank but also Detective Chace Fucking Keaton.