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I nodded and tossed Mary the keys to my truck.
When he took me to my shop and not to a car I was actually a bit shocked at first. As I walked in through the door I saw the mess they had made. I felt a sudden flush of anger, but I somehow kept it down.
Walk the walk, talk the talk, and keep your teeth together. House rules.
"Mr. Tyler, were you aware that one of your employees was guilty of a violation of his parole?" he asked me as he stopped by Kevin's station. I could see the signs of a tattoo interrupted. A smear of drying fluids down the side of the table showed me something else was interrupted as well.
"Which one?" I asked looking him square in the eyes.
"Kevin Johnson. The only person in your employ that is on parole." He didn't hide a sneer. "The man you shared a cell with."
"No, I wasn't aware Kev had violated his parole." I looked around at the guys searching through my shop. "If you want to keep doing that ... I want to be seeing the warrant."
"You're very sure of that answer, Mr. Tyler?" he asked me as he hands me the piece of paper. "If we find out you were aware I will book you for obstruction."
"Kevin's my employee and my friend, but I'm not his keeper," I told him looking at his eyes. "What he does on his own time is not my business ... or really any of yours."
"Wrong, Mr. Tyler. When the FBI get a tip a convicted murder has violated the parole -- he never should have given -- we make it our business to get him back into the cell he belongs in."
I looked over as one of the guys unhooked my computer and wrapped it in plastic. I watched it go out with dread.
"So, Mr. Tyler? Do you want to rethink that question again?"
I turned to look at him.
"Where is Sara?" I swallowed past the little lump of fear that rose against the back of my throat, at the thought of going back to the House, even for a brief stay.
"She and Mr. Johnson have both been taken to be placed under arrest."
"On what charges?" I asked, although I already knew the answer.
Again this fucking Fed smirked. "They're both looking at a class 'C' felony. You know what that is, right?"
I nodded. I knew that one well. Class 'C' minimum of two years ... maximum of twenty. Kevin will get his old time back plus the new. Sara ... maybe, two years.
"For incest," he said with a sick smirk.
I looked at the federal officer. "I don't know anything about it."
- COMMENTS
Anonymousover 5 years agoNo one cares to investigate unless there is abuse or people start flaunting it in front of everyone.
MAJOR04about 6 years agoNo way the FBI or Police would bust some adult for incest that any decent attorney could beat in court..
enseignerover 6 years agoLove your writing (in general) and loved this 4-pt series until the end of this chapter. You always seem to put so much detail and care into your stories, it was disappointing that this one made no sense at the end. In a lesser author's story I may have not cared as much, but you clearly did no research into Correctional work or Law Enforcement. The FBI and police would never care a whit who an ex-con was banging. You could have made it a vindictive parole agent that was trying to get him on trumped up parole violations because they were disgusted with the incest they stumbled on and it would have been far more believable.
Anonymousabout 8 years agoIgnore this self-important fuckwit, he does this to every story he reads; I think he thinks that if he points out all your faults, people will mistake him for someone with a personality, instead of a self-important, minutiae-obsessed shit-for-wits who gets off on correcting other people's errors; maybe he should look in a mirror instead, and perhaps learn what a fucking annoying, dysfunctional retard he is.
Fuck him and his anal-retentive obsessive behavior, he's an idiot, he's probably down in his mommy's basement right now, playing with his own feces.
This story was fine, a couple of VERY minor spelling glitches is all, so ignore that worthless cunt, you did good here.
WORDSMITH2015about 8 years agonothings, nothing (nothing’s)
god (God)
I'm use to (used) (3)
I'm use too (to)
House (house) (3)
Her livelihoods (livelihood’s)
were going out (we’re) (2)
hand full (handful)
myself a lap dance (me)
Yall (Y’all)
next few day's (days)
out the (2)
what the hells going on (hell’s)
he's sounds (he)
F.B (FBI)
spin the tired (tires)
thirty -eight (thirty-eight)
News (news)
should have given (gotten)
Her and Mr. Johnson (She)
