When she first came out of training in Glynco, GA and the graduate assignments were being issued Paige considered it a divine stroke that she was given a security detail in her home district of middle Florida. She knew the people, the lay of land and it was where she lived her entire life. She did her mandatory three years with Florida State Police after graduating from UF and went straight in to the Marshals. So many that had doubted her and derided her career choices as a woman would get to see the full payoff. She loved to prove people wrong. What she had not counted on, however were the bizarre responses she received when her new counterparts heard of her first assignment as a newly minted US Marshal. Sure, there were congratulations and pats on the back at her accomplishments, but there was a feeling of something left unsaid that she could not quite put her finger on as she went out to meet her first charge, Federal Judge Ermano Asis.
For some time the Judge was being looked after by a very seasoned, grizzled old Marshal by the name of Lyle Preacher who was in the twilight of his career and ready to retire. Lyle was an Army veteran of Vietnam and had been a Marshal nearly his entire life. He smoked vigorously, kept a flask in his coat pocket, had a grip like a steel-beam and an attitude to match. Originally from eastern Alabama, he carried a heavy accent and a military issue .45 as his sidearm. He was to show Paige the ropes of the job and then exit quietly. He wasn’t crazy about being replaced by a woman, but was near enough to a sizeable pension and peaceful retirement that he went along without being
too vocal about it. Paige liked him tremendously. He reminded her of the Marshals of old- a thought he was all too quick to dispel her of right out of the gate.
“This country’s going down the shitter faster than you can whistle Dixie,” He said one day as they road along down 301. “Glad I won’t live to see it.” He seemed to consider his words and glanced over at his replacement, “The judge and his wife have much higher aspirations as you will see,” He continued, “What you’re going to have to watch out for is their punk-ass kid, Lupe.” He studied her quizzical look, “Spoiled brat has been ignored his whole life, if you don’t put him in his place early on he’ll run right over you and you’ll be a stewardess on JPATS before you know it.”
She remembered the almost gleeful smile he carried when she dropped him off for his last flight home to Alabama out of Delta International. No good luck, no goodbye, just door shut, bag over shoulder and off to the terminal.
At first things went fairly smoothly. Ermano was a quiet, non-controversial judge. Along with his wife, he carried himself with class and was by the book. He did not want anything to derail his long-planned run for the US Senate and his plans beyond. There were threats of course, but the criminal element had been so tamed by Preacher they were careful how far they stuck their tattooed necks out until they were sure he was gone and there was only the new Marshal,
Kennedy, with which to contend. After the iron hand of Preacher she seemed like a breath of fresh, heroin-laced air. It became clear to Paige that she would never be able to hold the power in the way of her predecessor. Lupe and his unsavory cohorts from Delta Bay viewed her more as a curiosity than an authority.
Things remained in their tenuous, awkward state until one late evening when Lupe didn’t arrive for a planned public dinner outing. Late as usual, no one was surprised. He assured everyone earlier that he would most definitely be in attendance and naturally in grand style. The swanky restaurant on the Bay was one of his favorites and the Asis family would be entertaining some hopeful future campaign donors. Paige felt a vibration in her pocket and checked her phone, a one word text from Lupe:
Help. Considering he never asked for anything and merely took what he wanted at will, Paige’s glance widened in surprise. She called. No answer. When she had his cell-phone signal pinged he was not even inside the city limits, but somewhere off the interstate. The signal was moving. He was driving.
Screaming down the highway she exited off onto a state, then an old county road that wound through the inland swamps. He kept moving at high speed, turning slowing then taking off again. She figured he was likely drunk driving or just playing one of his stupid games with her. She swore when she caught up to him he was going to finally get his ass kicked out here in the middle of nowhere where there would be no witnesses. The signal stopped at about the same time she rounded a bend in the road. She could see the tail lights of his Alfa Romeo convertible sticking up from the ditch… with another vehicle, a large SUV stopped right behind and several figures jumping out. They froze in the sight of her headlights. She slid to stop on the shoulder and flung the door open.
“Nothing to see here ma’am,” One of the men called out. “Just helping our friend… He’s had an accident.” There were six of them.
“Well that’s good, because I’m a police officer,” She said advancing slowly. She knew she had the advantage of having her car’s headlights behind her. They could only make out her general figure: Jeans, hair up in a high pony-tail, a light quarter-sleeve top and her gun on her hip where her hand rested.
Her response had the affect she expected. Everyone looked at each other and said nothing. She studied them carefully. Tattoos, piercings, clothing style, skin tone:
Gator poachers.
What in the hell had he stirred up this time? She thought. There was white smoke rising out of the Alpha. She couldn’t even tell if Lupe was moving.
Someone else finally spoke up in a hefty southern drawl, “What we’re saying is we don’t need any help,
bitch.”
The others chuckled and she stopped. She could see hands moving in the darkness trying to hide from her.
“That’s,
Federal-Bitch,
dumbass,” She shot back. “Now get back in your car and get the fuck out of here.” She could feel her pulse tighten as the words came out.
Focus. Draw. Fire. Her standoff training spoke in her mind. She couldn’t let her thoughts wander. Only focus.
The previous moment repeated itself again, slightly shorter. All froze until the man who had spoken first, spoke again, “That’s pretty bold considerin’ there’s six of us and only one of you, sister.” His tone was more level. He seemed to be the leader.
“I’ll kill four of you before you even clear your weapons,” She said gravely. Her eyes were stone and sullen, the same glance she would later be known for, “And I’ll take my chances with the other two.” No one moved. There were only the sounds of Florida night in midsummer and the simmering of coolant rising from Lupe’s ruined car. The sweet smell combined with cooked brakes and burnt rubber and hung in the air. “Now I’ll tell you again: Get in your car and leave and I’ll pretend like none of this ever happened.”
She later found out the group were part of the
Swampfoot Gang, a soldier gang of the Dixie Mafia- A tidbit that Lupe decided to share after she hauled him out of his car and up the ditch. Bruised, scratched, cut, drug-addled and intoxicated, she could see he was still shaken as he explained how he ripped off two of them in a poker game and had been caught in the act. They were going to kill him for it. He’d been driving to find his way back to the interstate and buy time in hopes she’d come, but got lost and as he crested the bend where she’d stopped her car, lost control. As they sat there covered in dirt, sweat, oil and swamp rot she helped him work out a story to explain the car to his parents. There would be no mention of the hillbilly gangsters. She would deal with them again eventually.
The context of that night framed all their future interactions in her time as protection for the Asis family and as she saw him again for the first time in years it was the first thing to come to mind: A humid night on a deserted Florida backroad where she faced-down a gaggle of crank-fueled rednecks that were ready to skin him alive,
literally. As he administered a genuine bear hug, her feet came off the ground. “Oh God!” She squeaked against constrained lungs, “It’s good to see you too, Lupe” She coughed and patted him on the back.
Glancing down at his ankle tether she smirked and shook her head. “Nice…” Her phone vibrated and she gave it a quick glance, before putting it away again. “Yeah, I’m actually working right now, no aliens yet though, I just got in a couple days ago. Got to ride in the, uhh… oh what was it called. I’m sure you’ve been in one…
Gulfstream! That was it. It was nice.” An older man passed between them and she deftly waved him away, “It’s fine hun,” She said. Rudeness aside, she turned back to her fellow Floridian, “How’re your parents? We gotta catch up.” She said. After encountering Milo, it was refreshing to run into someone from Delta City that she actually gave a damn about. “You still play golf? I hit this target-ball place downtown the other night, next to the stadium. Wasn’t too bad.” She shivered and looked around, “I swear, I’m freezing my ass off,” She glanced back at him noticing the Indian had stepped away to take a call. “I gotta make a few rounds, but call me, maybe we can see about getting your ankle jewelry removed, my number’s the same.”
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