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Authors: Laurell K. Hamilton
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Karlton’s vacated warrant to another new marshal who had about as much experience. Ironically, his last name was even Newman. It was a little too heavy-handed on the whole fate thing for my taste.
Sadly, Raborn was still the go-to man in the field. I didn’t have a lot of faith that he’d listen to me, but when it went bad, and it would, I wanted my protest on record. “Nothing personal to Newman, but he’s exactly what his name says, Raborn. He’s new. What I saw last night would make me afraid to just take fresh meat on the hunt, but to put the fresh meat in charge is dangerous both to him and to the rest of us.”
Raborn leaned his shoulder against a tree on the edge of the parking lot. His arms were folded across his chest, which made his shirt bunch and emphasized that he had enough stomach that his arms were sort of resting on it. It wasn’t a flattering look, but maybe I was prejudiced.
He looked at Edward, who was at my side, where he’d pretty much plastered himself all day.
He’d gone from fellow marshal to bodyguard head space after last night’s “incident.” The other police seemed to take it for devotion after the sex they assumed we’d had the night before. No one had said anything directly. It was the little eye flicks, the expressions, the soft voices that quieted as we walked up. Fuck them all, or rather, not fuck any of them.
“What do you think, Forrester?” Raborn asked.
“Now, Raborn,” Edward said in his good-ol’-boy Ted voice, “you know that no other operation like this would have a rookie in charge. Veteran marshals won’t follow him, or trust him. No reflection on Newman, but it’s not just us that have a problem with it.”
Raborn sighed enough that his stomach rose up and down. He unfolded his arms and spit onto the parking lot, as if it had all left a bad taste in his mouth. “You aren’t the first marshals to come to talk to me. Hell, the local PD has asked for a more senior marshal to be in charge of the hunt.”
“Then why is Newman still in charge?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed when he looked at me; just because he agreed with me at this point didn’t mean he liked me any better. “Tilford is in charge of the other warrant, so he’s partnering Newman.”
“I know that Tilford requested that the other warrant go to Ted or me,” I said.
Raborn nodded. “He did, and it was duly noted.”
“Why give the other warrant to a rookie?” Edward asked again. “Especially, why give the senior warrant to a rookie so that he can be in charge of the operation?”
“It’s the older warrant, and new regulations say that the oldest warrant of execution on a joined case becomes senior officer.”
“It’s a bad rule,” I said.
Raborn just nodded. “But it’s still the rule.”
“It’s the same killers, they’re both the same warrant,” Edward said.
“Used to be, you’d be right, but you got too many marshals in your branch getting their toes stepped on, so they changed it.”
“They’re wanting to phase us old-timers out,” Edward said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“They think the new marshals will be easer to handle, but first they have to prove the newbies can do the job.”
“Stupid,” I said.
“Politics in the field always is,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if Newman would let Tilford lead, but he’s not. He’s taking that I’m-in-charge-so-I-have-to-be-in-charge attitude. He’s never been on a real hunt. At least Tilford has, not many, but I’ll take some experience over none,” I said.
Raborn tried to frown at me, but in the end he just shrugged. “Agreed.”
It was the first thing he’d ever simply agreed to with me. It made me hopeful. “What can we do to keep this from going pear-shaped?” I asked.
“Try your powers of persuasion on him, Blake. I hear you can convince most men to do just about anything you want ’em to do.” He looked at Edward then, and it wasn’t a friendly look.
More a guy
Sadly, Raborn was still the go-to man in the field. I didn’t have a lot of faith that he’d listen to me, but when it went bad, and it would, I wanted my protest on record. “Nothing personal to Newman, but he’s exactly what his name says, Raborn. He’s new. What I saw last night would make me afraid to just take fresh meat on the hunt, but to put the fresh meat in charge is dangerous both to him and to the rest of us.”
Raborn leaned his shoulder against a tree on the edge of the parking lot. His arms were folded across his chest, which made his shirt bunch and emphasized that he had enough stomach that his arms were sort of resting on it. It wasn’t a flattering look, but maybe I was prejudiced.
He looked at Edward, who was at my side, where he’d pretty much plastered himself all day.
He’d gone from fellow marshal to bodyguard head space after last night’s “incident.” The other police seemed to take it for devotion after the sex they assumed we’d had the night before. No one had said anything directly. It was the little eye flicks, the expressions, the soft voices that quieted as we walked up. Fuck them all, or rather, not fuck any of them.
“What do you think, Forrester?” Raborn asked.
“Now, Raborn,” Edward said in his good-ol’-boy Ted voice, “you know that no other operation like this would have a rookie in charge. Veteran marshals won’t follow him, or trust him. No reflection on Newman, but it’s not just us that have a problem with it.”
Raborn sighed enough that his stomach rose up and down. He unfolded his arms and spit onto the parking lot, as if it had all left a bad taste in his mouth. “You aren’t the first marshals to come to talk to me. Hell, the local PD has asked for a more senior marshal to be in charge of the hunt.”
“Then why is Newman still in charge?” I asked.
His eyes narrowed when he looked at me; just because he agreed with me at this point didn’t mean he liked me any better. “Tilford is in charge of the other warrant, so he’s partnering Newman.”
“I know that Tilford requested that the other warrant go to Ted or me,” I said.
Raborn nodded. “He did, and it was duly noted.”
“Why give the other warrant to a rookie?” Edward asked again. “Especially, why give the senior warrant to a rookie so that he can be in charge of the operation?”
“It’s the older warrant, and new regulations say that the oldest warrant of execution on a joined case becomes senior officer.”
“It’s a bad rule,” I said.
Raborn just nodded. “But it’s still the rule.”
“It’s the same killers, they’re both the same warrant,” Edward said.
“Used to be, you’d be right, but you got too many marshals in your branch getting their toes stepped on, so they changed it.”
“They’re wanting to phase us old-timers out,” Edward said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“They think the new marshals will be easer to handle, but first they have to prove the newbies can do the job.”
“Stupid,” I said.
“Politics in the field always is,” he said.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if Newman would let Tilford lead, but he’s not. He’s taking that I’m-in-charge-so-I-have-to-be-in-charge attitude. He’s never been on a real hunt. At least Tilford has, not many, but I’ll take some experience over none,” I said.
Raborn tried to frown at me, but in the end he just shrugged. “Agreed.”
It was the first thing he’d ever simply agreed to with me. It made me hopeful. “What can we do to keep this from going pear-shaped?” I asked.
“Try your powers of persuasion on him, Blake. I hear you can convince most men to do just about anything you want ’em to do.” He looked at Edward then, and it wasn’t a friendly look.
More a guy
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