Boone, sensing her rejection and now feeling totally exposed, quickly cleaned it up. “As the chief of police, I can give you some insight into which members of your student body are on my radar screen. I don’t know if you know this, but we have an opioid crisis in this town. A major-league one. As the dean of students, you might want to know which kids are aiding and abetting that crisis.”
Charly knew that wasn’t his original intent. But he cleaned it up too well for her to reject his offer. Mainly because she really did need to know all about the drug epidemic facing her students, and the police chief was the best person who could tell her. “Yes, of course,” she said. “And yes, dinner will be fine.”
Boone relaxed, although he knew she was only going out with him to aid her students. But by the way he was feeling, he’d take her however he could get her. Why he was willing to take her that way he couldn’t say. Women usually took him however they could get him, not the other way around. But apparently he wanted to bed her just that badly. “Good,” he said.
Then, at the exact same time, she asked, “where?” and he asked, “tomorrow night okay?”
They both smiled. Boone took charge. “Tomorrow night okay?” he asked again.
She nodded her head. It wasn’t like she had something to do tomorrow night. “That’ll work, yes,” she said. “But I was asking where. Where would you like to meet for dinner? Which restaurant?”
“Oh, I see. But no, you don’t have to drive. I can pick you up.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Charly said firmly. He might have been the chief of police, but he was still a stranger to her. “I’ll meet you there.”
“Ah. Okay. That’s different.” He wasn’t used to a woman quite that independent around Hemingway. They were usually thrilled to drive around with Chief Ryan in one of Chief Ryan’s fancy cars. But he knew she didn’t know him like that. “It’s a place called Danley’s,” he said. “Get on Main Street and keep going north as if you’re heading out of town. It’ll be to your left. You can’t miss it.”
“What time?”
Boone ran his hand through his already messy hair. He really didn’t have time for a dinner with anybody, if he were to be honest. Why in the dickens was he asking her out? “Eight?” he said.
Charly nodded. “Eight will work. I’ll see you tomorrow, Chief.”
Boone smiled. He was suddenly looking forward to seeing her again. “Good. See you tomorrow,” he said, glanced at her again, at her breasts mainly, and then walked out.
Charly waited to make sure he didn’t return yet again, and then she leaned her head back and exhaled. The last thing she knew she needed was to have dinner with an interesting guy like Chief Ryan. But she agreed anyway.
The story of her life, she thought.
CHAPTER NINE
Early the next morning was dead quiet in Low Town as the stuffy van slowly turned into the Brickenbrack Trailer Park and made its way toward the single-wide trailer at the end of the street. Sarge was the driver of the van, while Boone, Dontay, Morley, and five additional cops all rode in back of the van. All of them held fully loaded rifles in their hands. All of them, with the exception of the chief, wore battle fatigues. None of them, with the exception of the chief, wore shades.
And Boone wasn’t just wearing shades. He was shielding his light-sensitive eyes with those shades. And it wasn’t because he had an eye condition. He had no such thing. But because he was nursing a hangover from too much partying the night before.
“Kinda early to be wearing sunglasses, don’t you think, Chief?” Morley asked Boone. The other men in the van smiled. Boone was hungover again, and they all knew it. To all of them, they had a really cool chief. To Dontay, who was by far the youngest, it was kind of crazy. That man partied more than he did, he thought again, as he watched his chief.
“Don’t you think so, Chief?” Morley asked again. He was usually the only one who could get away with needling Chief Ryan that way.
But Boone wasn’t in the mood. He ignored him.
Morley, smiling, elbowed Dontay, who was smiling too and shaking his head.
But when the van stopped three doors down from their target trailer, all smiles were gone.
“We’re here, Chief,” Sarge said.
Boone finally opened his eyes and looked around at the scene, sat erect, and then looked at his men. “We go in on my count,” he said. “Everybody stay behind me. If a bullet is fired as we’re making it in, I take the bullet, not any of you knuckleheads. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” they all said. They all were glad to know that their chief not only had their back, but their front as well. And that kind of leadership was why every one of them, to a man, respected Boone Ryan. They feared him far more than they respected him, but they respected him too.
“I don’t want anybody going rogue on me,” Boone continued. “I’ve been a cop for over twenty years and I’ve seen these raids go sideways in a moment’s notice if you deviate from the plan. I want everybody to focus on their area. Morley, you and Dontay cover the right side. You two,” Boone said, pointing at two other officers, “cover the left side. The rest of you bring up the rear. I’ll cover the front. Nobody gets in front of me. Treat my body like your shield. Got it?”
They all said that they did. But Boone continued to stare at them. He felt as if each one of those policemen were his responsibility and he was determined to make sure they all went back home to their families that morning and every morning they were under his watch.
Satisfied that they got the message, he nodded. “Let’s go,” he said.
Dontay grabbed the battering ram, and they all hurried out of the van.
Inside of the home, you could hear a pin drop. All of the men were sleeping on their respective beds, or on the sofa, or on the floor, with their women beside them as if all was right with the world. Until one of the men felt a mosquito on his neck and slapped his neck, causing his old lady to stir. And that was when their front door was knocked down.
They all jumped up, with the men grabbing for their guns and the women screaming in terror. But Boone and his men were already in, and their rifles were drawn.
“Everybody down!” Boone was yelling as he entered the home. “Get down, gotdammit! You think I’m playing with you? Everybody down or nobody gets out of this bitch alive! Get down!”
And like soldiers surrendering on the battlefield, every one of those drug dealers, along with their women, dropped their weapons and fell on their knees.
But as his men began frisking and cuffing their suspects, Boone wasn’t satisfied with the bust. Because he still hadn’t found the one man he came to get. He still hadn’t seen hair nor hide of the prize that entire raid was premised on.
With his rifle still aimed, he moved like a panther throughout the trailer, looking from room to room, cubbyhole to cubbyhole, in search of Dalbert Lee. Dalbert was the ringleader. He was the filth Boone had been searching for ever since he arrested Billy Ray Rogers, one of his minions, near Hemingway High. When the tip came in that Dalbert was holed-up in that particular trailer, Boone jumped on it.