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By Root 614 0

of desserts in the freezer. From time to time he wondered who ate it all because he dined out three times a day. His day lady probably fed her family on it. Not that he cared because she was a nice Mexican lady with a large family. He knew she was illegal, and he hadn’t done a thing to change her status. She was just trying to take care of her family the only way she knew how. He would have given her cash, but she was too proud to take money for nothing. He knew he was breaking the law by not reporting her, but he simply didn’t care. Maybe he was more human than he thought. He closed the door and looked around at the gleaming kitchen. Maybe he’d move out and give Talaga the town house. The thought made him warm all over. Now, wouldn’t that just kick the governor’s ass? He started to laugh and couldn’t stop.

Time to go to bed.

Still laughing and sputtering, Tyler stripped down to his T-shirt and boxers, brushed his teeth, removed his contact lenses, and crawled into his sweet-smelling bed. He scrunched up his pillow as tears spilled from his eyes. He felt like a lost little boy again as he fought the tears. Eventually, he slept, his tears drying on his cheeks, his dreams invaded by gunfire, shouting, smoke, and racing automobiles.

Hours later, as he battled his dream demons, the landline next to his bed rang, a long, jangling sound that made him sit bolt upright. He tried blinking as he struggled to see the time. Three A.M. Six o’clock in the East. He looked at the caller ID and saw the readout said, WIRELESS CALLER. NUMBER UNKNOWN. Well, at least it wasn’t the governor. Probably another wrong number. He picked up the handset and mumbled a greeting.

The voice sounded whiskey soaked, gravelly, as though it was disguised somehow. Tyler blinked again when the voice said, “Agent Tyler?” Work-related? Another crazy tip he would have to pay attention to. Or not.

“This is Agent Tyler. Who is this? It’s three o’clock in the morning in case you can’t see the time wherever you’re calling from. Where did you get this number? It’s unlisted. If this is DEA business, call the office in the morning.”

“Who I am isn’t important. It also isn’t important how I came by this number. There is nothing sacred at the telephone company these days. I am very aware of the time, Agent Tyler. It is DEA business, and I will not be available when your office opens in the morning. I also know I can call your twenty-four-hour hotline, but I chose not to do that.”

“What do you want?” Tyler asked, his voice hard and strong. He took a moment to wonder where his gun was. In his briefcase, of course. It was supposed to be on his nightstand. What a stupid thought. Was he planning on shooting a hole in the telephone?

“We spoke a year ago, Agent Tyler. Right before the hurricane hit Florida. Do you recall that conversation?”

“I remember. I also remember it all turned out to be a joke on me.”

“Yeah, that’s how I read it at the time. You sure do move around a lot for an agent. I told you to pay attention and do something about the situation on Mango Key. You didn’t listen to me. They’ve had a whole year to do what they’re doing.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Who are they? And what are they doing?” Tyler clenched his teeth as he waited for a reply. Damn Kate Rush.

“Listen, Agent Tyler, I know your days are numbered at the DEA. I know you blew it. There aren’t any more strings for your daddy to pull. You know what else I know?” Not bothering to wait for a response from Tyler, he said, “I know that lady who works for you is illegal. With one phone call, I can have her and all her brats deported. I know you like sweet-smelling sheets, and I know you have a pair of boxers with little hearts all over them. You also have a pair with lightning bolts on them. Not that I care, mind you. I’m just saying, I know things. Now, do you want to listen or not?”

Tyler looked around, his eyes wild. Someone had sneaked into his house, touched his belongings. “Fine, fine, you broke into my house. You went through my things. Why? Why me? What are you getting out of