By
J.R. Francisco
****
PART FOUR
Things were quiet at the art museum-too quiet for security guard Rosalba Galindo. She never imagined security work could be so routine and uneventful. The attractive brunette was dressed in one of her husband's sheriff's deputy uniform shirts. The tan shirt was too big on her but she had tied a knot at the front and then tucked it into her black knee-length skirt. She found pair of her husband's handcuffs, along with a key, in a dresser drawer. The handcuffs hung from a leather belt around her waist, along with a make-believe gun. She sat with her stocking-clad legs crossed in front the computer monitor in the den of her house, pretending to be watching the security screen of the museum.
She yawned wearily and stretched her arms out. "Can't believe how tired I am," she said to herself.
There was no one else in the house. Her husband was at work and she had taken the day off from the café to take care of errands and do some shopping. All those things would have to wait today. For some reason, which she could not begin to explain, Rosalba had been . . . aroused when she and her two waitresses had being bound and gagged at the café by that creep. Although it had been frightening and humiliating, she had felt something else besides fear. She never told her husband and kept the feelings to herself.
Ever since then all she could think about was how thrilling and excited she felt when she recalled the incident. As an independent and self-sufficient woman she had always been in charge and in control in everything she did. Perhaps relinquishing control had awakened some latent . . . turn on. She sat back in her chair and let her imagination take over. She imagined four armed masked intruders coming up behind her. A gun was pointed at the back of her head and she was ordered not to move or make a sound.
"How did you get in here?" Rosalba asked aloud, getting into the role playing.
The intruder told her to shut up and put her hands up, which she did. She was then ordered to stand up. Rosalba stood and glared at the imaginary crooks. The leader remained behind and kept the gun aimed at her while the other three thieves went off to the collect all the valuables they could get their hands on.
"What are you going to do with me?" she asked. "You won't get away with this."
The masked gunman laughed and ordered her to take off her panties. Rosalba refused but the robber convinced her by telling her he would get one of his assistants to do it for her. Fuming and humiliated, Rosalba pulled her skirt up, past her stocking tops, and tugged her black lace panties down her legs.
The crook told her to stuff the panties in her mouth. Reluctantly, she balled up the panties and shoved them into her mouth. A thrill went through her as she tasted the soft material of her own panties. It wasn't so much the panties as it was the thought of relinquishing power and being forced to do something against her will. With each passing moment her arousal increased.
The thief ordered her to sit down and produced a roll of duct tape, which she had stashed inside the drawer of her desk earlier. The sound of peeling tape filled the silent house. He worked quickly, binding her ankles, knees, and thighs with several straps of silver tape. Her own handcuffs were then used to bind her hands tightly behind her back. The robber then wrapped duct tape around her head several times, securing the panties inside her mouth.
Her heart raced with excitement and her breathing increased when she finished. A shiver of excitement went through her when she realized how helpless she actually was. She tested her restraints, flexing her legs and arms. There was no give whatsoever. The robber then taunted her, telling her she needed to find another line of work and went off to join his friends in robbing the museum of its valuables. Rosalba seethed and then screamed with outrage. She was surprised at how little noise she could make.
She got into the fantasy, pretending to be a helpless security guard bound and gagged by robbers. She had to do something to sound the alarm. Fortunately, she could still move around. She stood from the chair and began hoping across the room toward . . . Rosalba froze in her tracks. Her heart skipped a beat and she gasped with surprise. Her husband, Deputy Marlon Galindo, stood across the room, staring at her with his mouth opened. Her initial shock made her lose her balance and she toppled over with a muffled grunt.
Deputy Galindo raced to his wife and knelt before her. "Rosalba, what hell happened? Who did this to you?"
Rosalba grunted through her gag and shook her head. She looked embarrassed and her face had a reddish hue. How in the world was she going to explain this?
****
Kat was on her way to the Pennyrich Lingerie shop in her trail-blazer to pick up Deputy Red Thunder when her cell phone rang. She sighed with exasperation, wondering what else could happen today?
"Sheriff Derringer," Kat said into her phone, expecting even more drama.
"Sheriff," Sandy, the dispatcher, said. "Just got a call from the mayor. He said you need to go to his house as soon as possible. He wouldn't say anything else."
"Okay, Sandy," Kat said. "Thanks."
Kat sped up, wondering what on earth was so important that required her to come over to the mayor's house immediately? She was willing to bet it had to do with Fortay and Bayless.
She was still reeling from her encounter with Fortay at the café but had to remain indifferent and in control in front of her deputies. Kat arrived at the Pennyrich Lingerie shop in what had to be record time. Deputy Red Thunder stood outside the shop, waiting for her. Red Thunder darted toward Kat's trailblazer. She lowered the window on the passenger side.
"That son of a bitch!" Red Thunder said, eyes flashing with anger. "Talk about making a bad first impression."
Red Thunder got into the front seat of the Trailblazer.
"We have to go to the mayor's house right now," Kat said. "Got a call from Sandy."
"The mayor's house?"
Kat shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine." Her eyes shifted toward the lingerie shop. Though she was pressed for time, she needed to go on a quick shopping trip. "Stay here, deputy," she told Red Thunder. "I'll be right back."
Red Thunder looked on with confusion as Kat exited the trailblazer and headed toward the lingerie shop.
The shop was empty, much to Kat's relief. She scanned the store quickly, taking in the intimate lacy things displayed on racks and mannequins. She located the underwear section and headed toward it like a woman on a mission, heels clicking crisply in the empty shop.
She didn't have time to choose what color or style of panties she wanted. She just needed to get a pair right now. She located her size on a rack and grabbed the hanger. She sighed with disappointment when she noticed it was a pink lace thong. Kat had never been fan of thong underwear but at the moment it was better than not wearing anything at all.
Two minutes later, feeling a little awkward and somewhat uncomfortable, Kat exited the lingerie shop and got back into her trailblazer where Red Thunder waited for her. He still had no idea what was going on.
"Everything okay, sheriff?" he asked Kat.
"Maybe," Kat said, shifting in her seat.
She put the blazer into drive and sped off towards the mayor's house.
****
The Mighty Lady Gentlemen's Club was the only place that offered men adult entertainment in Dorado City. Actually, the windowless single story building stood outside the Dorado City limits. Certain influential members of the community were not too comfortable with such a place within the small town, so the owner agreed to keep it out of sight as much as possible. It hadn't hurt business all that much anyway.
Leo Brady, the sole owner, drove toward the club which opened at 6 P.M. every day except Mondays. He usually got there a couple of hours early to make preparations for the evening's entertainment. Though it was up to his girls go come up with their dance routines and costumes, he liked to give input or suggestions. He also sometimes liked a private show once in a while.
As a promoter and business man, Brady had seen and done it all. Several failed business ventures and jobs during his life had stiffened his resolve. Though still somewhat young, 38 to be precise, he prided himself on having plenty of life experiences that gave him an edge in just about anything. But in all his experiences he had never encountered what he was about to see as he pulled up to the club in his sports car. After parking his car in front of the club in his designated space, Brady made his way to the front to let himself inside . . . and stopped cold in his tracks.
Two thick wooden poles supported an entranceway leading to the front door of the club. On one of the wooden posts a topless young woman wearing only a pair of black panties stood bound and gagged against the pole. Her arms were tied behind her back while plastic zip-ties circled her thighs, knees, and ankles. Rope was lashed below and above her full breasts. The tight cords went around the wooden pole, keeping her securely tied against the post. More rope went around her waist, thighs, knees, legs, and ankles. She was effectively gagged with duct tape, which covered her mouth and circled her head several times.
A cardboard sign hung around her neck with a rope noose. In black bold letters the sign read: HOW'S THIS FOR AN AUDITION? The striking and shapely girl grunted desperately into her gag and squirmed against her bonds, which only jiggled her perfect breasts. Her blue eyes expressed anger and frustration more than anything else.
For a moment Brady simply stood and gawked at the girl, who only intensified her moaning and squirming. His eyes were glued to her breasts, which moved about hypnotically due to her intense thrashing. Finally, he pulled his eyes away from her chest and gazed into her face.
"Whoa, baby," Brady said, shaking his head. "You got the job."
Lindy Derringer moaned with outrage, shaking her head and grunting emphatically into her panty stuffed and taped mouth. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Brady, urging him to release her, or at least remove her gag. But all that came out was muffled grunting and moaning. Never in her life had she been so frustrated and humiliated.
Brady was enjoying himself too much to simply release the agitated girl. He stepped in front of Lindy and said, "I still have to conduct an interview. It's standard procedure. I'm afraid I'll have to remove your gag? Do you mind?"
Lindy closed her eyes and screamed. This was more than she could take. She waited, trembling with anger, as Brady removed the duct tape from her mouth. He peeled off the tape slowly, taking some of her hair with it but she could care less. Fuming, she waited impatiently as the final layer of duct tape came loose. She immediately used her tongue to dislodge the wadded up panties from her mouth. Ever the gentleman, Brady helped her out by pulling the underwear free.
"I'm a sheriff's deputy!" Lindy gasped, catching her breath. "Untie me this instant!"
Brady chuckled. "Yeah, and I'm a green beret."
"I'm not kidding you bastard!" Lindy shouted. My name is Lindy Derringer. I'm Sheriff Derringer's sister!"
Brady could hardly believe his ears. "Are you kidding me? You're a sheriff's deputy?"
Lindy seethed, fighting to control her anger. "Two criminals tied me up and left me here. Hurry up and release me."
"Then you're not here for a job?"
Lindy glared at Brady. "I'm going to do a job on you if you don't let me go right now."
Brady sighed and shrugged, amused. "Oh well, still a great story to tell my buddies."
"You repeat any of this to anyone else and I'll come back and break you're freaking arm. Got that?"
"All right," Brady said, disappointed. "Spoiled sport."
****
Kat and Red Thunder arrived at the Mayor's house in what had to be record time. During the drive Red Thunder had informed Kat about what had transpired at the lingerie shop and that Bayless had taken Rachel and the shop owner hostage.
The mayor, Bradley Stone, waited outside his house next to a large tree. It didn't take long for Kat and Red Thunder to see why they needed to come over to the house immediately. Kat and Red Thunder exited the trail blazer and met Stone. All eyes, however, were trained on Rachel and Linda Pennyrich.
Kat's heart dropped at the sight of her detective, who was tightly bound and gagged against the tree, and wearing nothing more than a sleazy French maid's outfit. No explanation was needed as Kat and Red Thunder approached the two squirming and grunting women.
"I didn't free them because I know it's a crime scene and didn't want to tamper with any evidence," Stone offered.
Kat paused and rolled her eyes. She had met Stone on a couple of occasions and concluded that the man was not exactly sharp mentally. How he had become mayor was beyond her comprehension.
"Did I do the right thing, sheriff?" Stone asked.
"You did fine, Mr. Stone," Kat said. "Can you spare a couple of blankets?"
The question surprised Stone but he obliged. "Sure. Let me get them for you."
After the mayor left Kat and Red Thunder went about releasing Rachel and Linda.
"Are you two okay?" Kat asked, feeling bad for her detective.
Rachel nodded, obviously ashamed and embarrassed at her current predicament.
"We need something to cut the ropes with," Kat told Red Thunder.
Red Thunder reached down and pulled out a rather menacing looking knife from under the leg of his uniform pants. "My father used it to scalp a Vietcong in Vietnam ," Red Thunder said proudly, holding up the knife.
Kat nodded politely, a bit disturbed. The knife was not exactly regulation but Kat decided not to mention that to her deputy. Red Thunder went to work on cutting Rachel and Linda free of their bindings. Kat knew things were only going to get more intense from now on. She had to act and do something before all hell broke loose.
****
"I was just . . . practicing," Rosalba explained, avoiding eye contact with her husband.
Deputy Marlon Galindo had finally finished freeing his wife from her handcuffs and bindings. At first he thought someone had broken into the house and had done this to his wife yet again. But after removing her gag she told him she had bound and gagged herself. It was the last thing Galindo thought he would hear.
"Practicing?" he asked.
"That creep who tied us up at the café is still loose isn't he?" Rosalba asked.
"Yeah, but-"
"If that happens again I want to be prepared," Rosalba said. "God, that was so humiliating!"
"Okay, calm down," Galindo told his wife. "I was worried when I came in and found you . . . all bound and helpless."
"I had to make it seem like the real thing," Rosalba explained. Her bright brown eyes flashed with resentment. "I knew you wouldn't understand."
"Alright, I get it," Galindo said, still suspicious. "Can I ask you one question though?"
"What?"
"Why are you wearing my uniform shirt?"
Rosalba looked down at the shirt. "Sorry, didn't think you would mind. I'll take it off."
She began unbuttoning the shirt but Galindo stopped her. "I don't mind," he said softly, staring into her eyes. "In fact, I think you look hot wearing it. Always wondered how you would look if you were a sheriff's deputy. Now I know."
"What are you doing home anyway?" Rosalba asked her husband.
"I was driving by and saw your car parked outside," Galindo replied. He kissed her gently on the lips. "Is it a crime for a man to come see his wife in the middle of the day?"
"That all depends," Rosalba said, kissing him back.
"On what?" Galindo whispered.
"On what's on his mind."
Galindo took his wife in his arms, pulled her against him, and kissed her passionately. He suddenly spun her around and pinned her against the wall. They locked eyes, exchanging smoldering looks of desire. Their lips locked again . . .
****
The aging Sandstone Motel stood just off the interstate highway in the tiny town of Del Valle (the valley), which was located about 20 miles south of Dorado City. It was a perfect hiding place for anyone that didn't want to be found or spotted. The accommodations were outdated and substandard but it served its purpose for Robert Fortay and Jay Bayless.
The two former law enforcement officers were having dinner in Fortay's motel room, discussing their next move. They sat in the room's tiny table with two wooden chairs which, apart from the television set, was the only furniture in the sparse room. Beer bottles and plastic food containers from a local barbecue joint littered the table.
Fortay bit into his barbecue sandwich and scowled. Being from the big city, he wasn't impressed by the local food. "I'm always up for some fun and games but where is all this going?" Fortay asked. "So we keep humiliating Derringer and her staff . . . so what?"
"What, not having fun?" Bayless asked. "Tying up attractive women isn't your thing? Isn't that why you gave me that video? So we could have plenty of fun at her expense?"
"Yeah, but there's no profit in fun," Fortay said. "So we ruin her career, get some kicks, and get even. Where does that leave us?"
"Thought you'd never ask," Bayless said. "We're going to hit and rob the Dorado City First National Bank. That's going to be our finale."
"The Dorado City bank?" Fortay said. "That's your plan? I'm not supid, Bayless. I used to be a detective in a big city. I've heard of criminals robbing small town banks. Usually they get away with $3,000 or maybe $8,000 if they're lucky. That's going to be our score?"
Bayless took a swill from his beer bottle. "Did you forget I used to be sheriff's deputy in Dorado City. I ran for sheriff too. I would have won if it hadn't been for Derringer's tight ass, legs, and pretty face."
"What's your point?"
"I used to date a bank teller who worked at the bank," Bayless explained. "She told me of a secret safe under the bank. No one knows it exists. There are plenty of well off ranchers around the area who keep their money in that safe. Anywhere from $600,000 to over $800,000. That's going to be our score."
"What about Derringer and her staff?"
Bayless smiled. "She won't be able to do anything because she's going to be all tied up at the moment." He raised his beer bottle. "By the way, I have a special delivery to make tonight. Cheers."
****
After the ordeal at the mayor's house Kat decided to call a morning staff meeting at her house for tomorrow. She dropped off Rachel, Linda, and Red Thunder and headed home for some down time. She informed Sandy, the dispatcher, to notify her other deputies about the meeting. This had gone far enough and Kat had to act now. It wasn't fair to her staff.
Much to her dismay, her cell phone rang. Kat sighed, wondering what more could possibly happen today? It was her dispatcher, Sandy.
"What is it, Sandy?" Kat asked, dreading the answer.
"Sheriff, just got a call from Frank's Lounge," Sandy said. "Some old guy claiming to be a former county sheriff is causing trouble. He asked for you personally."
You have to be kidding, Kat thought wearily. She knew it had to be Hank Bolander. "Thanks, Sandy. On my way."
Kat turned the trailblazer around and headed toward the bar known as Frank's Lounge, which passed as a dive bar in Dorado City. This was the last thing she needed right now. All she wanted was a hot shower and something to eat. Five minutes later she pulled into the parking lot of the seedy bar. She exited the trailblazer and made her way toward the entrance. She was overdressed for the place in her heels, skirt, and jacket but that was the least of her concerns.
Kat entered the dim bar and scanned the place, looking for Bolander. Music played in the background from a jukebox. The place reeked of cigarette smoke and other mysterious odors which she had no intention of knowing their origins. Only a few rugged men stood around the bar. They were focused on the scene playing out at the bar counter.
Hank Bolander stood in front the bar counter . He was yelling at the bartender and threatening the man with a pool cue stick. The bartender, a middle-aged man, stared at Kat, asking for help with his eyes. She strolled confidently toward the bar, ignoring cat-calls and whistles behind her. It was going to take more than a few crude noises or remarks to intimidate her.
Bolander noticed the bartender's gaze and turned. His eyes were glazed and he was obviously drunk. His face lit up when he spotted Kat and he lowered the cue stick.
"Howdy, Sheriff Derringer?" Bolander slurred. "What brings you to my neck of the woods. And looking as beautiful as ever."
"I hear you've been misbehaving," Kat said. "What's the problem?"
"This guy wants to cut me off," Bolander said, pointing at the bartender. "Nobody cuts me off. Harry never cut me off when I was sheriff. Never!"
"Harry?" Kat asked.
The bartender shrugged and shook his head.
"Harry Pomroy," Bolander said. "He owned this joint in my day. Much classier then. Now, look at it. What's the world coming to?"
"I think it's time you call it a day," Kat told Bolander. "I'll give you a ride."
"Screw that!" Bolander challenged. "I ain't done yet. Have a drink with me. I ain't leaving until you drink with me."
"I'm on duty," Kat said evenly.
"You're the sheriff," Bolander said. "You can do anything you want. Like I used to do when I was sheriff."
"Times change, Mr. Bolander," Kat said, wondering how she was going to make Bolander leave without causing a scene?
"Well, I ain't leaving until this bastard gives me another drink." Bolander rallied.
An idea struck Kat. It was daring and bold but it would take care of the situation. She leaned over and whispered into Bolander's ear. His eyes lit up and he paid rapt attention. He suddenly leaned back and met Kat's eyes. She nodded knowingly. Bolander flashed a sly smile.
"Oh, what the hell," Bolander said, dropping the pool stick. "Let's get out of here. This place is too crowded anyway."
Kat turned and headed toward the entrance as Bolander followed her. Along the way he bumped into several chairs and tables but he didn't care. They walked out of the bar and made their way toward Kat's trailblazer. Bolander never pulled his eyes off Kat's backside, which she could actually feel behind her.
Before she opened the door Bolander stood in front of her and said, "Okay, I kept my part of the deal. It's time you kept yours."
Kat sighed, blushing slightly. The things she did sometimes in order to avoid further trouble. She looked about the area, making sure no one was around. She grabbed the hem of her knee-length skirt with both hands and pulled it up around her upper thighs, exposing her stocking tops and garters. Bolander gasped with surprise, delighted at the private leg show Kat was giving him. He gazed with awe and pleasure at the pair of perfect legs and creamy thighs encased in taupe colored stockings held up by black garters. She pulled the garter strap on her right leg and let it go, making a popping sound against her bare thigh.
"Satisfied?" Kat asked, staring at Bolander.
Bolander nodded, stunned, keeping his eyes glued to her leg. "You are the sexiest woman I have ever met in my life. Marry me."
"First things first," Kat said. "You need some rest."
Much to Bolander's dismay, Kat tugged and adjusted her skirt back into place. She never really understood why men found a garter belt with stockings so sexy? It was just another alternative to pantyhose, which she found more comfortable.
"Yes, ma'am," Bolander said, saluting like a soldier. "Anything you say."
He stumbled around the trailblazer to the passer side. It took some effort but he got inside the vehicle. Kat shook her head, not really thrilled about babysitting an old man. Still, she had a responsibility to make sure Bolander made it home-wherever that was-safely. Kat got into the trailblazer . . . only to find Bolander passed out in the front seat. He was snoring and had his head back against the seat. Great, she thought. Now what? On the bright side he probably wouldn't remember any of this later. There was only one thing she could do.
****
Lindy Derringer drove home, angry about her encounter with Fortay and Bayless. Leo Brady, the strip club owner, had driven her back to the alleyway where she had left Allison's car. Fortunately, Brady had some clothes used by strippers at the club. The denim short-shorts and a tank top t-shirt left little to the imagination but it was better than nothing. After that she drove back to the station and gave Allison her car without much of an explanation. Allison had gawked at the way Lindy was dressed but Lindy was not in the mood to discuss yet another embarrassing story about being bound and gagged.
Her wrists, legs, and ankles were sore from the plastic zip-ties. Red marks were evident on her skin. She hoped Kat wouldn't notice them. Even though she hated not being forthright with her own sister, she decided not to tell Kat about what happened. Kat was already stressed out enough without worrying about her little sister's well-being. Besides, Lindy considered herself a resilient girl who could deal with anything.
Lindy arrived at the isolated country house she shared with her sister just before sunset. She noticed Kat's trailblazer was parked in front of the house. She was surprised her sister had not tried calling her like she was always did, especially during this time. She had left her cell phone in Allison's car but had no missed calls or messages. That was fine with Lindy.
After parking her car next to Kat's trailblazer Lindy entered the house discreetly. The last thing she wanted was to explain to Kat why she was dressed in a revealing shirt with shorts that barely covered her backside. Fortunately, Kat was not in the living room or kitchen of the house. Lindy listened intently. She heard the faint sound of the shower in the bathroom.
Lindy exhaled with relief and quickly made her way toward her bedroom. She had to get out of these clothes before her sister saw her. She closed the door behind her and stripped off the tank top and shorts in record time. As she put on a clean pair of bra and panties her stomach growled.
What would be the harm if she went into the kitchen wearing only her bra and panties and made herself a sandwich? The worse that could happen would be that Kat would see her, which wouldn't be a big deal since they were sisters. It wasn't like they had never seen each other naked or in their underwear before.
Wearing only her matching black bra and thong panties, Lindy padded out of her bedroom and into the kitchen. It should only take her no more than five minutes to make herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and satisfy her hunger for a while. She located a loaf of bread, found some peanut butter in a cabinet, and pulled out a jar of grape jelly from the refrigerator.
She busied herself on spreading jelly and peanut butter on two pieces of white bread. So far this was the best part of her day. She scooped out some peanut butter with her index finger and brought it up to her mouth, licking it clean. She closed her eyes and hummed with delight.
She placed the two pieces of bread together and turned to head back to her bedroom to finish getting dressed. Lindy's mouth dropped open and she let out a startled gasp . . . followed by a loud squeal of shock. Standing in the kitchen in front of her was an older man with white hair. He had his harms crossed and smiling at her.
Lindy threw the sandwich at the man and bolted toward the kitchen counter. She opened a drawer, searching for a knife or a sharp object. She pulled out a steak knife and spun toward the man, ready to defend herself. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath come in short spurts.
"Hey, take it easy sweet cheeks," the man told her. "I'm not here to hurt you. I was enjoying the view."
"Who the hell are you?" Lindy demanded. "How did you get in here?"
The man raised his hands. "I'm assuming this is Sheriff Derringer's house. She must have brought me--"
"Kat!" Lindy shouted. "In the kitchen! Hurry!"
The man gasped and grabbed his head, clearly in pain. "No need for all that. I told you I--"
"Kat!" Lindy shouted, louder.
Kat darted into the kitchen. She was dressed in her bathrobe with her hair dripping wet. She spotted Lindy dressed in her underwear and holding a knife, and then saw Hank Bolander leaning against the kitchen wall, holding his head. It wasn't hard to figure out what was going on.
"Lindy, put that knife down!" Kat told her sister. "He's a guest here. I brought him here."
Lindy relaxed, then realized she was standing before a strange old man wearing only her bra and panties. Instinctively, she leaned forward and covered her chest and private area with her arms.
"You brought him here?" Lindy asked, surprised and embarrassed all at once. "I didn't know you liked them that old."
"Hey," Bolander said, offended.
Kat scowled. "It's not what you think. He's name is Hank Bolander. He's a former county sheriff who's here for the chili cook-off."
Lindy glared at Bolander. "Turn around right now before I stab you anyway."
"Lindy!" Kat admonished her sister.
"That's all right," Bolander told Kat. "I'm going back to bed and sleep it off. You gals talk it over." He glanced at Lindy. "Nice cheeks by the way."
After Bolander departed Kat exhaled with relief. "Care to tell me why you're in the kitchen in your underwear? Where have you been all day anyway?"
"I thought I had a lead on Bayless and Fortay's hideout," Lindy said. "Turned out to be nothing. What are you doing bringing that creepy old man here?" Lindy shivered and crossed her arms. "Can't believe he saw me in my underwear. Eeeewww!"
That makes two of us, Kat thought. "I picked him up at a bar then he passed out in my trailblazer," she explained. "What was I supposed to do?"
"How about leaving him in the trailblazer?"
"He used to be a former Durango County sheriff so treat him with some respect," Kat said to her sister. "He's also a guest in our house. And quit walking around in your underwear while he's here."
"Ha-ha," Lindy said sarcastically.
"Get dressed and let's have something to eat," Kat said.
"I'm not hungry anymore," Lindy said. "Being seen by a stranger in my underwear kind of ruins my appetite."
The doorbell rang. Kat and Lindy both flinched.
"Are you expecting anyone?" Lindy asked Kat.
Her sister shook her head.
"I think I better get dressed," Lindy said, walking past Kat toward her bedroom.
Kat shrugged and braced herself. After the day she had anything was possible. She walked into the living room and opened the front door. No one was there, except a large cardboard box on the doorstep. Whoever had left the box was gone, or hiding. Of course she knew who had delivered the box.
Reluctantly, Kat opened the box, peeling off duct tape from the flaps. She sighed with exasperation when saw what was inside the box. She pulled out a sheet of paper inside the box. It said: New female deputy uniforms. Effective immediately . . . or else.
"Enjoy it while can you bastards!" Kat shouted. "It's the last thing you're going to get out of me."
Lindy, wearing pajama pants, came running from her bedroom. "Kat, what's going on?"
"Oh, nothing much," Kat said once again calm. "I think we're about to become the most popular sheriff's department in the state."