Texas Hold 'Em by Kay David Read Free Book Online Page A

had three little kids. The children had watched from the trailer’s window with scared brown eyes as Rose had counseled their mother and father on the previous call.
    Her threat to call Child Protective Services had seemed to work; both of them had looked stricken at the possibility of losing their children. She really hadn’t expected to hear from their neighbor again, but now here she was, heading toward the trailer park.
    Seven minutes later, she turned off the street and drove slowly down the gravel road lined with mobile homes. A few sparse cedar trees claimed spots along the rutted drive, but most of the landscaping involved faded plastic toys, rusted out trash cans, and cars that looked like nothing but a prayer would make them start. Usually the west Texas night smoothed out the rough edges, but that wasn’t the case here. The thick darkness that surrounded the place felt heavy and foreboding, like a blanket she couldn’t throw off.
    Rose could sense a bad situation as well as the next cop, and something definitely felt wrong. Her nerves jumping, she moved her right hand to her holster and checked her weapon before gripping the steering wheel again. The residents in places like this were faded, rusted, and worn out, too. Just like the boy with the gun, when folks felt trapped, they reacted as instinctively as an animal did.
    A chorus of crickets fell silent as the car rolled to a stop. The home was dark and quiet, like the ones on either side. Glancing at the notes she’d jotted down, she checked the number to make sure she had the right place. There were no street lights—since there was no real street—and she had to turn on the small flashlight she carried.
    As soon as the light came on, her rear windshield exploded.
    She ducked with a curse, a shower of glass pellets raining down on her back and shoulders as the gunshot echoed in the silence. Reaching for her weapon as she went down, she had the pistol out and in her hand before the sound could even stop. A moment later, she was sliding into the floor well of the vehicle, yelling into the radio she’d snatched going down. “This is Sheriff Renwick. Officer needs assistance! Send someone to Crown Circle. I’m under fire.”
    She twisted onto her back and tried to think it out. The shooter had to have been behind her to make the shot—the glass had flown into the vehicle—but was he still there or had he moved?
    Her answer came without any warning, the front windshield blowing out next.
    Squeezing her eyes shut, she covered her head with her arms as the shattered glass peppered her. This time she felt something sharp slice into her cheek. Something wet followed. If the next shot hit her gas tank….
    She didn’t want to die by herself on an unpaved street in a down-and-out trailer park.
    She didn’t want to die, period.
    She crouched down as far as she could, then jumped out the passenger side door and rolled toward the shallow drainage ditch that ran beside the road.
    The next bullet split the air right above her head.
    Her gaze flew to a nearby water tank as lights started to come on all around her. She might find better cover behind the heavy cistern, covered in rusting aluminum. A door squeaked open, and she heard someone say, “What the hell—?”
    She lifted her head and yelled, “Close your door and stay inside. Call 911 and tell them to hurry up. An officer needs assistance.”
    Another shot sounded, and Rose whipped her head in the direction it had come. Lifting her gun, she steadied the barrel with her wrist and squinted into the darkness. The lamplight spilling out of the homes did little to help.
    She couldn’t shoot blind—there were too many people inside their trailers, too many kids. The thin metal covering the houses offered nothing in the way of protection, and a wild shot would pierce the walls like an ice pick going through butter. If an innocent civilian got hurt, it wouldn’t matter a damn if the bullet was hers or the