No Cry For Help

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Authors: Grant McKenzie
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over-washed cloth, and let it out with a sigh. “Typical man.”
    “Has Wallace been here?”
    “Who?”
    It was Marvin’s turn to sigh. “Wallace Carver. Your husband’s best friend.”
    Delilah waved her hand dismissively. “Crow’s always making friends. All his passengers love him, you know? His regulars memorize his schedule just so they can get on his bus. He’s too damn sociable, I say.”
    Marvin held up a piece of paper. “I have a warrant.”
    “Uh-huh.” Delilah narrowed her eyes. “For what?”
    “To search your house.”
    “What for?”
    “Wallace.”
    Delilah straightened her shoulders and her voice turned screechy.
    “You think I’m hiding a man under my bed while my husband is away, Marvin? Is that what you think of me?”
    Marvin glanced at the three men standing impatiently behind him. He lowered his voice.
    “We just want Wallace,” he said. “Hand him over and I’ll do my best to keep you and Crow out of it.”
    Delilah sneered. “You wake my babies and I’ll have your badge. You ain’t coming in here.”
    “We are,” said Marvin firmly. “We have a warrant.”
    Delilah was shoved aside as the four RCMP constables moved past her and into the house.
    “Don’t think I won’t tell your mother about this, Marvin. I’ll chew her bloody ear off.”
    One of the constables sniggered, but Delilah couldn’t tell which one. They all looked the same in their black jackets, gold-striped pants and jangling belts stuffed with pepper spray, handcuffs and handguns.
    As the constables entered the kitchen and small living room, Delilah headed down the hallway to her daughters’ room. Better she wake them than have the storm troopers do it. No sooner had she entered the girls’ shared bedroom when Marvin called from the kitchen.
    “Delilah! What’s this?”
    Delilah tried to think what they could have possibly found. And then it dawned on her. Crap.
    She returned to the kitchen to see Marvin holding up a grubby pair of pants and a torn shirt that he had removed from the trash. Delilah had briefly considered washing them after Wallace left, but the crash had left large rips in both items of clothing. She threw them out instead.
    “There’s blood on the shirt,” said Marvin.
    “It’s Crow’s.” Delilah lowered her gaze, portraying embarrassment. “I haven’t been honest with you, Marvin.” She looked up with glistening, new-formed tears in her eyes. “This trouble with Wallace made Crow fall off the wagon. I don’t know what he got into, but he came home in those filthy, torn clothes and reeking of booze. I think he was wrestling a cougar in a ditch somewhere.”
    Marvin shook his head slowly, not buying it.
    “I saw Crow just a few hours ago. He was sober and clean.”
    Delilah swallowed. “I wondered what it was that pushed him over the edge.” Her voice hardened and her eyes turned cruel. “You did this to him. One minute he was my husband and the next he was opening a bottle and running out the door.” Her voice rose in anger and her hands curled into fists. “Look at my face. Do I look like a woman who’s slept peacefully or one who’s been trying to wrestle her husband out of the goddamn bottle you drove him into?”
    Marvin kept his composure, but the other constables stared at him. Unsure and unsettled.
    “So where is he now?” said Marvin.
    “I dragged him home, got him out of his clothes and into bed, but I must have dozed off. When I woke up, you were at my door and he was gone again. Thanks a lot.”
    Marvin stared at Delilah. Hard. Penetrating. His mouth twisted and he shook his head.
    “No,” he said. “Crow was never a good enough cowboy to escape your lasso. If you tied him down, he stayed tied down.” He passed the clothes to one of the other constables. “I’m taking these with us.”
    Marvin turned to a second constable.
    “Issue an alert on Crow’s truck. We find him, we find Wallace.”
    Delilah tried to keep the emotion off her face, but it

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