Georgia Heat

Georgia Heat

By John Angus

Copyright 2005

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Other books by this author

Insurrection

A Killer Body

Rated-X

My Sister's Keeper

The Monster Squad

john_angus@rogers.com

Chapter One

When the big blue Chrysler roared past on Highway Five Dara was slumped down in the front seat of her car reading a paperback mystery about a Los Angeles private detective who was big, handsome, sexy, and always seemed to be getting in gunfights.

Her uniform shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, showing most of a black bikini swimsuit top. A small, portable fan plugged into the car's cigarette lighter was doing its best to make her comfortable in the 106 degree heat but it wasn't helping much. A light sheen of sweat stood out on her chest and face, and her pants and shirt felt sticky against her body.

There was little shade to be found that early in the afternoon, but she'd found what there was of it behind the big Pepsi billboard where she could watch the interstate for tourists.

It wasn't that she was particularly dedicated to preventing speeding. Normally, on a day like today she'd have found a nice little swimming hole somewhere, parked her patrol car where no tattle-tale would likely spot it, and slipped into some cool water.

But she was between paydays and she needed money. Hitting up tourists was the quickest, easiest and safest way to go about getting it.

She almost missed the Chrysler, deeply engrossed in yet another gunfight where big, handsome Josh Brolin was gunning down nasty South American druggies left and right. But the familiar sound of its tires going over the inch-wide crack that spanned the road brought her eyes flicking up and ahead, where they locked onto the car's New York plates and widened in delight.

She bent the corner of the page, closed the book, then tossed it aside and sat up quickly, buttoning her shirt and throwing the car into gear. She ran a hand across her forehead to brush away the blonde bangs that had matted against her sweaty skin then rubbed her hand unconsciously on her hip as the car bounced forward and hit the pavement.

She flicked on the flashers as the car's engine throbbed powerfully and the trees began to race past her on either side. She was smiling in reilef and congratulating herself on persevering through the heat as she caught sight of the Chrysler again. Not only was it an expensive out-of-state car but it actually was speeding. It wouldn't even be necessary to convince some indignant tourist who was hugging the 65 limit that his speedometer was wrong.

The big Chrysler...it actually was a New Yorker, which she thought amusing considering it was from that state...pulled over to the side of the road. She followed closely behind, the tires of both cars raising a small dust cloud as they rolled onto the unpaved shoulder.

She plucked her sunglasses from the dash, then slipped them and her cowboy hat on and stepped out of the car.

She could feel the heat radiating up from the ground as she walked along the cracked pavement towards the Chrysler, and felt an instant resentment as she saw the closed windows.

What she wouldn't have given for an air-conditioned car!

The driver's window rolled down smoothly - power windows, of course - and a balding middle aged man in a dark suit looked up at her apologetically as cool air wafted out.

I'm so sorry, deputy, he said. I guess I just didn't notice I was speeding. I'm in a hurry, you see.

I see your license? she asked.

Of course.

He handed her a small leather folder. She frowned, about to tell him to just hand her the licence, but she opened it instinctively and found a neatly folded hundred dollar bill slipped into the plastic with the license.

The man very ostentatiously looked away as she started to smile in pleasure. Then something twinged in the back of her head and she blinked and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Life just wasn't this easy - not for her.

She looked in at the man again, her eyes shifting quickly over the inside of the car.

Something definitely wrong here, she thought.

The car was new, smelled new, was as clean as a button. It was expensive, and this guy was wearing expensive clothes. This was no tourist, and no salesman either. What was a rich New York guy with a car like this doing alone on a secondary highway in rural Georgia?

You step out of the car please, sir?

He looked around and up at her with a frown.

Something wrong, deputy?

Deputy? Why was he calling her deputy? Most city people she stopped called her officer, especially Yankees.

Out of the car, she said, pulling the door open.

He stepped out reluctantly and she took his arm in a tight grip and led him around to the back of the car.

You bend forward and put your hands on the car, please?

Why? What's this all about?

Just do it, sir, she said, being far more polite than was usually her habit.

Ahh! he gasped, jerking his hands back from the hot metal.

Put your hands on the car, she ordered.

It's hot as hell! he cried.

Dara thought she detected a bit of a loosening in his New York accent.

Well I wouldn't want to burn your hands, sir, she said taking his arm and pulling it up behind his back. Suppose you lay down on the ground here.

This here is a thousand dollar suit!

I'm sure you can afford dry cleaning then!

She shoved him into the dirt and made him spread his arms and legs, then roughly patted him down.

Come on, deputy! he pleaded. I'll double it. I just want to get where I'm going without any hassles!

Attempting to bribe a police officer is a criminal offense, sir, she said sternly. I'm afraid I'll have to arrest you.

She heard another car pull up behind hers and looked up, unsurprised to see a Georgia Highway Patrol car. She kept her smile hidden as she turned and handcuffed her prisoner, then pulled him to his feet.

Two troopers, one a Lieutenant, came up to them as she was leading the man back to her car.

Some problem here, Deputy? the lieutenant asked.

Nothing I can't handle, she said casually. Would you believe this guy tried to bribe me?

Why, you're kidding? the man said in mock surprise. Try to bribe a member of the Kainlen County Sheriff's Department? He must be crazy!

S'wat I thought, she said righteously

That there car matches the description we got of a hit and run up Charlesville way, the other trooper said.

It do, don't it? the lieutenant said with a nod. Tell you what, deputy, why don't you hand him over to us? Save you filling out paperwork and all.

He was squinting in the sunlight. Both of them were sweating heavily. A glance back at their car showed all the windows closed.

Oh that's okay. It's air-conditioned back at the office, she said cheerfully. You can find him back at our station if you all want him for something else.

She stuffed the man into the back seat of the cruiser as the two troopers looked at each other.

We'd like to bring him back with us to see if the witnesses can identify him, the lieutenant said after a moment.

Bring em' to us. We always like company, she said, grinning. We're real friendly in Kainlen.

She locked the door and then went forward to the Chrysler. She wasn't surprised when the two troopers came after her.

We'd really rather you didn't touch the car, the lieutenant said. In case you disturb any evidence.

Evidence? Of a hit and run? I think that'd be on the outside not the inside, she said over her shoulder.

She sat down in the driver's seat and pulled down the sunshade. There was a small microphone the size of a pen clipped to it. She ignored it and reached over to open the glove compartment. She pulled out a portable radio and examined it.

Now what on Earth would he be doing with this thing? she said in confusion. This here looks like one of your radios, don't it, Lieutenant? You think maybe he was listening for radio calls while he was speeding? You know, so he'd kinda like keep clear of your patrol boys.

Never can tell, the man said tightly.

She took her hat off and wiped her arm across her forehead, not that that helped much.

Sure is hot, she said.

All right, deputy. You caught us, the lieutenant said, glowering.

Caught you? she looked up at him in astonishment. Whatever do you mean?

You know damn well he's one of ours!

Who? Him? You mean to tell me a Georgia State trooper would try and bribe a police officer!?

He's from the GBI, he said sullenly.

Well fancy that, she said with her best aw-shucks look. You'd think someone with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation would know better than to try and bribe a police officer.

You're real funny, deputy. I'll be sure and tell Rawlins how funny his deputies are.

I'm plumb confused by your attitude, Lieutenant. I can see how you're concerned finding a fellow officer gone so bad but...

Cut the act! Go and uncuff him and we'll be on our way!

Uncuff him? I'm sorry, Lieutenant. Are you calling for special treatment because he's a police officer? You should know better than that, sir! I gotta treat him just like any other citizen.

She got out of the car, pushing past them. The two men hurried to catch up as she strode back to her car.

This is an officially sanctioned operation, deputy! Agent Tyrel is acting in an official capacity!

Who? That his name? Well, whatever. You can take that up with the Sheriff. I'm just a dumb lil deputy. This man committed a crime and I can't release him just on your say so.

She slammed her car door and looked apologetically up at them.

Say, you better get out of the sun, Lieutenant. Your face is getting all red.

She whistled softly as she set the car in gear. The back wheels threw dirt out behind her as she pulled out onto the highway and left them behind.

I suppose you think this is amusing.

She looked in the rear view mirror.

No lip there, prisoner, she said sternly. You're are in enough trouble as it is. Shame on you trying to bribe a police officer!

The man shook his head and looked out the window as the car picked up speed.

Chapter Two

Twenty minutes later she turned into the station parking lot. She pulled her prisoner from the back seat and led him into the station, not much surprised to find a crowd waiting.

Well now, deputy, you look like you caught yourself a real dangerous man there, Sheriff Rawlins said.

He was a big man, six feet, four, with broad shoulders, thick black hair and caloused hands. He was in his forties, and would have been considered handsome had it not been for a nose that had been broken innumerable times and a face prematurely weathered. He wore a tailored beige uniform, his star gleaming as he grinned at them.

A cop gone bad, Sheriff, she said with sadness.

Always hate to see that, Bob Churnik said.

And I thought them GBI guys were so honest, Joey Serl sighed..

Well, we'll print him and charge him, then put him in a cell, the sheriff said.

Sheriff, this is ridiculous, the man snapped.

Now you pipe down, boy! the sheriff growled. We don't think much of crooked cops in this county!

Tyrel looked at him indignantly but kept quiet.

Rawlins had Joey take care of the booking while he led Dara into his office and closed the door. He turned and gave her a wide grin and she winked at him. Then his grin faded as he moved over behind his desk.

Did you do or say anything at all they could use?

Nuh uh, she said, moving over to the air conditioner in the window and bending forward over it.

You sure?

Soon as he handed me the money I figured there was something wrong, Uncle Ed. I was straight by the book.

Why'd he hand you the money? You give any hints or...

Nah. That's one of the reasons I got suspicious, she said without turning around.

She undid a couple of buttons on her shirt and held it open, sighing as the cool air flowed over her.

Tell me exactly what happened.

They got nothing, Uncle Ed. Lookit, the guy was even speeding for real. I walk up to the car and he hands me this little leather folder with a hundred dollar bill in it. That's it. I hadn't said nothin' but to ask for his licence.

He grunted and sat down.

They been on the phone to you I figure.

Yeah. Got a call fifteen minutes ago from Captain Hooper. He wasn't too happy. Sounded kinda embarrassed even.

Well, he should be, one of his men trying to bribe a police officer an' all.

They both chuckled in amusement.

She straightened up with a sigh, then went over and sat down heavily in one of the chairs in front of it.

It's hotter then hell out there, Uncle Ed. Why don't we get air-conditioning for our cars? The Georgia troopers got it.

He snorted and shook his head. I told you a hundred times. People around here won't look too kindly on seeing their police driving around in air-conditioned cars when they can't afford it themselves.

She made a rude noise.

And do up your shirt, girl! Half your boobs is hanging out!

Oh please, she sighed. I'm wearing a bathing suit. Which is a good thing seeing as how I'm swimming in sweat out there, and not sitting in air-conditioned comfort like some people I know.

And why are you wearing a bathing suit? he demanded. You wouldn't be thinking of finding some shady river and dunking yourself in it when you're supposed to be out patrolling, would you?

Course not, she said after a moment's pause. I uh...couldn't find any clean bras. I mean, I usually do my laundry on Thursdays but I...

Save it, he said. I suppose I should be grateful if you're at least wearing something now and not bouncing around in your birthday suit.

That was only once, she said sulkily.

Once that Reverend Sims finds you laying out in the grass naked when he's fishing, you mean.

Yeah well, I still think that old pervert was peeping at me for a lot longer than it took for him to get all offended.

That old pervert at least had his clothes on!

He waved his arm dismissively. Never mind that now. I want you to write me up a report, a real report, mind you, an official one I can show to the Captain when he gets here.

Yeah, yeah. I know how it's done.

You got a real eye for these people, honey. I gotta admit that, he said with a sly grin.

Didn't take no great thinking, she said. Rich New York guy in a expensive suit driving through Kainlen? Why in hell for?

They ain't too subtle are they?

Or they think we're all such hicks they don't need to be.

There was a brief knock and then the door opened and Joey Serl came in. He hesitated, his eyes drawn to Dara's chest. She gave him a slow leer and leaned back in her chair, arching her back a little.

What in hell you want? the sheriff demanded.

Joey tore his eyes off her and tried to recall what he came in for.

I uh...we booked that GBI fellah, took mug shots and prints. You want us to do the arrest reports for her?

Nah, she'll come and do em'. We want this by the book.

Okay. We put him in a cell.

Good, Keep him there. Let him stew a little.

Joey nodded, then looked over at Dara again.

Is that it!? the sheriff snapped.

Uh...yessir.

Then get out! he yelled.

Joey jerked back, then nodded quickly and fled, closing the door behind him.

You button up your shirt! the Sheriff snapped, stabbing a finger at Dara.

She sighed and did the buttons back up as he glared at her.

I swear, girl, your momma shoulda blistered your backside first time you started acting like a tease.

Yeah, yeah, she muttered.

Now you get back out there and do up those reports real professional like. And brush your hair too. You're a mess. We want you looking real professional and honest when the state boys come to fetch their boy back.

Oh who you think you're fooling? she sniffed as she got to her feet. They know damn well you're a crook. Putting on a show ain't doing nothing to convince em' otherwise.

Well it can't hurt, can it? Anyway, maybe if you act professional it'll rub off on your regular work.

Look who's talking! You're just a big old hairy assed swindler yourself! Why if I had half the money you been robbing out of people –

I didn't ask for your comments!

Then don't you go calling me unprofessional you old – .

Get out! he yelled.

She sniffed disdainfully, then opened the door and slammed it behind her. She could see Bobbie and Joey leaning together at the counter both turn to her at once. They looked disappointed her shirt was done up.

Dara smirked at them, but only a little.

I hate paperwork, she sighed, as she walked over to them.

Least it's air-conditioned in here, Joey said, running a hand through his long hair.

Yeah, got that right. It's hotter n' hell out there.

She walked across the room to one of the tables and sat down. Joey followed.

Tall and gangly, he moved with all the grace of a duck, his adams apple like a baseball moving up and down inside his skinny neck as he slipped into the chair alongside hers. His face showed a youth filled with bad acne, but his eyes were big and blue and bright as he gazed at her.

You wanna unbutton your shirt and cool off, Dara, honey, we won't be offended, he assured her, eyes flicking hopefully to her chest.

She gave him the finger then leaned forward and pulled over some blank arrest reports.

Wonder how the state boy is doing in the cells, she said.

Only a few rooms in the station were air-conditioned, mainly the ones the Sheriff spent time in. Since he never went into the cell block it remained steamy and hot.

I don't think he's too happy. Bobbie sniggered.

The Sheriff's door opened and he stuck his head out.

Dara. Don't you forget to book that money he gave you.

She gave him a sulky look.

I mean it, girl! I don't want them finding nothing wrong with the way we do things up.

Oh all right, she snapped.

He closed his door and she stuck her tongue out at it.

How much he give you? Joey asked.

Hundred dollar bill.

Really? Can I see it? I never seen a hundred dollar bill up close before.

She took the little folder out of her pocket and plucked the bill from it, then unfolded it and looked at it.

Sure is pretty, she said. Be kinda hard to spend something so pretty.

I'd find a way, Bobbie said, pulling it from her hands.

I bet you anything they marked that some way, Joey said.

Huh? How you mean? Bobbie asked.

They probably just wrote down the numbers, Dara said as she started in on the report.

Well, maybe, Joey said. Sure seems a pity to give it back.

Yeah, I could use the money. She sighed.

Well, honey, you ever need a place to stay you know my door's always open, Bobbie said.

Yeah, it's gotta be so you don't die of the stink in there, she replied.

Mine too, Joey piped up.

I'm sure you're wife'd appreciate the offer, Joey.

She finished the report quickly, then studied it for a minute to see if she wasn't laying it on a little thick. She decided it was a bit much but wasn't bothered enough to change it. She brought the report and forms to the Sheriff, who looked them over without saying anything, then grunted and put them in his box.

Okay. Go clean yourself up some. They'll be here any minute.

I ain't going to the dance with them.

Just do what you're told for once in your life!

She sighed and turned away.

And don't slam that door!

Dara slammed the door so hard the pictures on the walls shook, then went down the back hall to the ladies room and looked at herself in the mirror. She grimaced, then turned on the cold water and splashed some in her face. She combed her short blonde hair back, letting some bangs come down over her forehead to give her that sweet butter-wouldn't-melt-in-my-mouth look.

Her face had done her awfully well over the years in convincing people that most of what they'd heard about her simply MUST have been wrong. She had a great wide-eyed innocent look.

Her shirt was wrinkled but she was damned if she was going to change into a clean one when she was all sweaty and likely to get all sweaty again as soon as she stepped outside the station. Those people from the GBI knew she and the rest of the County Sheriff's office raked money off passing tourists anyway. She didn't see how looking clean was going to change their minds any.

Chapter Three

She walked out to the front hall and got a Coke from the machine, then leaned over the counter and said hi to Mrs. Dillon.

Anything interesting happen I didn't hear about? she asked, trying to read the report pad on her desk.

Not that I can think of, Mrs. Dillon said.

Mrs. Dillon had been taking calls at the Sheriff's office for something like forty-five years or so, which was about twice as long as Dara had even been alive. She was small and thin and wore the same kind of cardigans to work every week, changing the colors every day but always putting on the shiny silver pin she'd gotten from her now-dead husband years back. Her hair was done up in the same beehive hairdo she'd been wearing for most of her life, every hair always neatly in place.

Mrs. Dillon didn't much like change.

I hear you been getting yourself in trouble again, she said.

Not me, Mrs. Dillon. I...

Don't bend over like that, girl. I told you that before, and this is a public place.

Dara sighed and straightened up.

You got to act like a lady, Dara, or people won't treat you like one. And a lady don't stick her be-hind out where all the world can see, especially in pants.

Yes, Ma'am. I was just gonna say that I was a good girl and all. Some man offered me money and I arrested him.

Some state trooper fellah I hear, she nodded. You got lucky, girl. One of these days they're gonna catch you with your hand out and you'll be in trouble.

Everyone does it, she protested.

Don't make it right. Just remember the Lord sees all and knows all. You'll have to explain your ways to him one day.

I ain't worried.

That's cause you always think you can bat those pretty blue eyes of yours and sweet talk your way out of things. Well the Lord ain't gonna be impressed by it. He knows your soul, girl.

Then he knows I'm a good person, she said confidently.

Let's just hope that's good enough and he can forgive your sinning ways.

Aw, you'll convince him, Mrs. Dillon, she said with a grin.

The sheriff opened the hall door and motioned towards her.

Dara. Get your butt back here. Them boys from the state are here.

Edward, that is no way to talk to a lady, Mrs. Dillon said.

The sheriff looked at her in surprise, then glared at Dara as if the words had come from her.

You want her to act like a lady you treat her like one. She ain't no little girl now to be called rudely.

Yes, Ma'am, he said, apparently reconsidering whatever he'd been about to say.

Lady, he snorted into Dara's ear as she passed.

The door closed and they walked down the hall to his office.

Now you act proper, he whispered, taking her arm. One of em's a real important guy and I don't want you to say nothing smart to him.

He steered her into his office by the elbow without telling her which of them that was. Dara thought that was kind of unfair since it meant she couldn't say anything smart to any of them.

She saw there were three men in the office. Two of them were in suits, the third a uniformed Highway Patrol captain named Hooper.

Can I get you anything to drink, gentlemen? the sheriff asked.

We'd just as soon get this farce over with as quickly as possible, Hooper said.

The door opened and Ronnie Harris, the county attorney, walked in, his face all smiles as he greeted everyone warmly...and loudly. Dara noticed no sign of sweat on the man, and thought again about how nice air-conditioned cars were. He was wearing an expensive black suit, gleaming gold cuff links showing in his shirt cuffs as he pumped everyone's hand...except Dara, who he hugged closer than she would have liked, giving her a very deep whiff of expensive after-shave.

At six feet two he was an inch shorter than she and two shorter than the sheriff. Dara thought that gave them a great advantage over the three visitors if things got down to basketball.

Hooper was a blonde, barrel-chested, mustachioed man in his forties, but looked to be an inch or so shy of six feet. She'd met him on several occasions. One of the men in suits was bald, shaved bald, she guessed, very square-jawed and angry looking. The second was barely five feet tall, thin from top to bottom. His hair was short, combed straight back from his forehead and held there