Page 109 of Reno

“The documents,” I said. “You’re not taking them.”

He handed them to me and then excused himself. As the door closed, I looked at Reno.

“How am I doing so far?” I whispered.

“Damn. Kind of a…well…just a bit harsh.”

“Good. That’s what I was after.”

In fifteen minutes or so, another man came through the door and introduced himself as Detective Wright. A frail man in his early forties with thinning hair and thick-lensed glasses, he looked like no match for me.

After reviewing the documents, he looked perplexed. “He’s been here two weeks. He hasn’t so much as spoken.”

“He’s been advised by the family attorney not to speak to police unless there’s an attorney present,” I responded. “Was there an attorney present?”

Wright and Watson exchanged glances.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” I said.

Wright reviewed the documents a second time, made copies, and visited with his superior. After a few phone calls, he returned and promptly apologized.

A half hour after that, an unmarked police car pulled up in front of the building. My father, a few pounds lighter and wearing an undeniable smile of relief, opened the car door and got out.

Upon seeing him, I leaped from her seat and rushed outside. “Don’t say a word to these men,” I demanded. “Not one.”

Trying to withhold his emotion, he returned a solemn look.

Then, the three of us shared a much overdue hug.

In front of a police station. Wearing my new black midi fit dress.

Without fear of repercussion or deportation.

44

Reno

While the Temptations My Girl played loud enough for all of Mission Beach to hear, Oscar and Gina danced like it was the night they met for the first time. Carma and I had danced for so long over the course of the night that I feared my legs would give out if I took one more step.

Resting on one of Goose’s hand-crafted wooden benches, I waved a dismissive hand toward the dance floor when Carma asked if I was ready for one more song.

“I can’t even stand,” I said. “You’re going to have to give me a minute.”

She took a seat at my side and glanced around the rooftop. “This was sure nice of Goose to throw a party for us.”

“He’s a good dude.”

“They’re all good dudes.”

I scanned the group. Detective Watson and his wife Taryn. All the Filthy Fuckers and their respective others. The Devil’s Disciples and their female counterparts. A small group of Hells Angels. Carma’s boss—and the MC’s close friend—George. Carma’s co-workers, all of which were male.

“You’re right,” I said. “They’re all good dudes.”

“I still can’t believe it,” she said. “Talk about a relief. This is just crazy.”

“I guess I should have known,” I said. “If the little fucker can hack into the Pentagon’s computer system, why couldn’t he hack into the Social Security Administration’s and a few others?”

“I had no idea he was that good.”