P. Parrish - Claw Back

“Sit down, Kincaid.”

“I’ll stand, if you don’t mind.”

Mobley picked up a folder. “This is what took me so long to get back to you,” he said. “It’s the results of your background check.”

Louis said nothing.

“I suppose I should have made my original offer contingent on a background check since no matter how much I might want to hire someone, some things in a man’s past are automatic eliminators that I can do nothing about.”

Louis stiffened his spine, trying not to show his disappointment.

“I don’t particularly like some of the things you did when you were in uniform in Michigan,” Mobley said. “And I don’t like how you’ve handled some of your cases here in Florida. Or the large number of shitheads you’ve had to shoot.”

Louis stayed quiet, fighting the urge to just thank Mobley for the chance at wearing a badge and get the hell out of here.

“But,” Mobley went on, “no matter your methods, you’re an honest man. Your moral compass, to coin a phrase, is pointed in the right direction.”

He had it. He had the job.

“I can teach a man a lot of things,” Mobley said. “I can’t teach integrity. You’re hired.”

“Thank — ” Louis cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“It’s only as a deputy,” Mobley said.

“I’m fine with that.”

“You’ll go through all the formalities,” Mobley said, opening a drawer. He pulled out another file, opened it and started through the papers inside.

“Here’s a packet of some of your pre-hire paperwork. You’ll have to report for a drug test, take a physical, take a psych exam — ” Mobley looked up at him. “You can get through one of those, right?”

“I think so.”

“You’ll have two more interviews,” Mobley said. “The path is greased unless you say something to really piss someone off, so try to show some respect to the oral board, okay? They’re kind of old guard.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mobley handed him the folder. “Anyway, there’s more junk in there. Personnel and emergency contacts forms, health and life insurance, academy registration crap. There’s a guy down in Human Resources named Archie. He sets up all the tests. You need to see him before you leave here.”

“Today?”

“The next academy class starts September 15,” Mobley said. “I called in a couple of markers with FDLE to get you admitted to it. If you want this job, you’ll make that other stuff happen. Am I clear?”

Lily…

The Academy was a sixteen-week course. Before today, making it up to Michigan to see her was going to mean only a two-week postponement. Now it would be four months. And there would be no vacation time for a year at least.

“Yes, sir, we’re clear,” Louis said.

Mobley motioned to the door. “You need to get your ass out of here,” he said. “I have the final interviews for Ginger’s job.”

Mobley reached for the door, but before he opened it, he put a hand out. Louis shook it.

“Thank you, sheriff.”

“Just don’t screw me on this, Kincaid.”

“Not a chance.”

Mobley opened the door. Three striking young women in business suits, sitting in chairs along the wall, looked up.

The first had flowing dark brown hair, large brown eyes and long shapely legs crossed at the knees. Hispanic.

The second woman wore her black hair sleekly pulled back, set off with gold hoop earrings and red lipstick. African- American.

The third woman was petite, with silky black hair cut around her face in a swish-swish style that made her look younger than she probably was. She wore no make-up but she didn’t need any. Her skin was smooth as porcelain. Asian.

Louis looked back to Mobley and raised a brow. “Interesting group of candidates,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” Mobley said. “Diversity is a beautiful thing.”

It was past four by the time Louis finished up with Archie in Human Resources. He exited the station, a fat folder of forms under his arm, and stepped out into the thick August air.

At the Mustang, he paused to yank off his blue tie and suit jacket and tossed them on the passenger seat along with the folder.

The buzz of getting the job was still there. After almost six years without one, after all these years working in the shadows as a PI, he was finally going to feel the sweet weight of a badge again.

Damn, he wanted to share this moment with someone.

Mel. But then he remembered that he had gone to Atlanta with his girlfriend Yuba to meet her mother. It had surprised him that things had gotten that serious for his friend, but he was happy for him.

Susan Outlaw and her son Ben. They wouldn’t really understand how important this was.

Sam Dodie. His old chief from Mississippi would get it but Sam and Margaret were roaming around out west somewhere in their motor home.

Phillip. But his foster father was thirteen-hundred miles away up in Michigan and this wasn’t something that could be celebrated over the phone.

Joe…

More than anyone she would know what this meant to him. But he wasn’t ready to talk to her yet, wasn’t ready to find out if her trip to Montreal had been her way of moving on after their argument last Christmas.

Louis looked over the hood of the car toward the station, watching as two cops come out in street clothes, laughing as they headed toward their cars, probably bound for O’Sullivan’s and after-shift unwinding. For a second he considered going there but he decided to wait until he had a badge, until he was finally one of them.

He got in the Mustang, started it up and turned the air on high. For a moment he just sat there, hands on the wheel, squinting out the windshield into the low-slung white sun.

Katy.

Katy would get it.

He glanced at his watch. She’d still be at her office for at least another hour. He slammed the Mustang in gear and peeled out of the lot.

Her desk was empty but there was a full cup of steaming coffee sitting amid the mess of papers. There was no one else in the office, so Louis headed back toward the area holding the panther cages.

There was Katy, standing behind a metal table holding a plastic baby bottle. Jeff was beside her, a wadded up towel in his hands.

“Louis!” Katy said, looking up.

“Hey Katy,” he said. “How’s it going, Jeff?”

“Fine, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Louis, it’s Louis, okay?” As he came forward he realized Jeff was cradling a panther kitten in the towel. It was squirming and making raspy mewing noises.

“Oh man,” Louis said. “Is that Lou?”

“Yup,” Katy said.

“He’s gotten big in a week.”

Katy nodded. “He’s going to be a really big boy, maybe over one-forty.” She held up the bottle. “Hold him tight, Jeff. Let’s give him the rest of his vitamins.”

The kitten was fighting to get out of the towel but Jeff firmly wrapped its legs and Katy injected the last of the white liquid into the tiny pink mouth.

Louis heard a strange huffing noise and looked to the cage at his left. Grace was pacing, watching them anxiously. The second kitten, Nico, was asleep in the back of the cage.

“Okay, we’re done,” Katy said.

Louis watched as Jeff opened a small door of the cage and carefully set the kitten back inside. Grace immediately began licking it. After a moment, she grabbed it by the nape and took it back to the corner.

Louis watched them, thinking about the signs he had seen coming onto the preserve and across Alligator Alley. PANTHER CROSSING. DRIVE CAREFULLY.

“How long will you keep them here?” he asked.

“A couple more weeks,” Katy said. “Then we have to release them.”

Louis turned to look at her. He was puzzled that he didn’t see any sadness in her expression. But then he realized that any sentimentality he might have about the cats wasn’t part of Katy’s makeup. She could love the cats but she couldn’t let herself get too attached. It was like his job in a strange way. He could care about the people he helped, fight for the victims, and even mourn the dead. But if he let any of it sit in his heart too long he couldn’t do what he needed to do.