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“No,” North said. “That’s not what I—Shaw, say you’re Philip Welch. You like to party. You deal some drugs. You definitely use from your own supply. You always need money. Is this where you’re going to set up shop?”
Darkness hid Shaw’s expression, but his hesitation was an answer. “Lots of trailer parks have high incidence rates of drug use, drug dealing, that kind of thing. And in the privacy of an RV—”
“But this isn’t a trailer park; it’s an RV park. Does Welch strike you as the kind of guy who owns an RV? And look at this place—look at the storm of shit just because a few police officers started knocking on doors. People are always coming and going at a place like this. Families coming and going. High traffic. Vigilant parents. These are the kind of people who celebrate Christmas in July and pack plastic reindeer and chili pepper lights.”
“You know where they should go? They should go to Santaland, where it’s Christmas all year—” Shaw squeaked when North got one of his nips. He pulled free and rubbed his chest, directing a dirty look at North. “Ok, ok, I see your point. But if we’re wasting our time…well, it’s not like we have another option.”
“We’re not wasting our time. Maleah didn’t say Welch had an RV here. She said he brought her to the park-and-store.” And then North shifted his gaze to the chain-link fence and, behind it, the corrugated steel walls of the self-store building.
Shaw made a soft sound of understanding.
North started toward Officer Eaton. The chinless kid went for his handcuffs again, so North held up both hands. “Hey, buddy, I need to talk to whoever’s in charge.”
“Take a step back, sir.”
“I’ve got to talk to him. It’ll take two minutes.”
“Sir, go back to your car.”
North eyed the kid. In the shadows, it was difficult to make out more than his outline, but his shoulders were hunched, and his breathing sounded rapid. “What about Chief Somerset?”
“Chief Somerset is busy, sir. You need to wait with your vehicle.”
“What about Chief Cassidy?” North was trying to remember if he’d seen the Auburn jackhole. “Did he bother to show up for his own party?”
“Sir, I’m going to ask you to step back right now and return to your car.”
“They sure train them good at the academy, huh?”
The kid didn’t answer.
“Come on,” Shaw whispered.
“Your tax dollars at work,” North said.
Still nothing.
Shaw tugged at North’s arm.
“Can I get a soda?” North asked, jerking his head at the manager’s office. “It’d be nice to have a cold drink while I stick my thumb up my ass.”
“I’m not sure about drinking during ass play,” Shaw said to the kid, “but actually, any kind of temperature play does add a new element to the sexual experience.”
The kid shifted. His gun belt must have been brand new because it squeaked. “Just don’t come over here where they’re working.”
Security lights mounted around the manager’s office shattered the darkness, and as North and Shaw approached the building, North took the opportunity to study Shaw.
“Did you know that kid was going to freak out at the mention of ass play? Or was that a lucky coincidence?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Shaw said.
“What were you going to say next?”
“I don’t plan my conversations; I believe in letting a dialogue flow organically.”
“I bet you do.”
The ghost of a smile fluttered across Shaw’s mouth. “It might have been flowing toward those frozen butt plugs and the possibility of internal frostbite.”
