Free Shadow Boys by Harry Hunsicker Page A

thoroughfare which split that section of the city in two, near Arapaho Road.
    The location was part of a two-building complex, one-story offices next to each other, separated by a walkway and narrow courtyard. Nineteen-eighties construction, brick with big mirrored windows, landscaping dead from lack of water.
    It was dark when I got there. Commercial buildings dominated the area. They housed low-end businesses—personal-injury attorneys, one-man ad agencies, mortgage companies. Most were dark as well, parking lots empty.
    A “For Sale” sign was in front of the address Tommy Joe had given me. Both buildings appeared to be vacant, like they’d been that way for a long while.
    I parked in front of the correct address and got out, a flashlight in one hand.
    The front door was locked, as was the rear. No signs of forced entry.
    I shone the light in a window.
    The building was empty. I could see the other end. No walls or other interior finish. And no crate marked “Property of US Government.”
    On a hunch, I went to the sister building, thirty feet away.
    This structure had a loading area at the rear, a metal roll-up door wide enough to drive a truck through.
    All the entrances were locked as well, no signs of entry.
    At the rear, by the loading door, I flicked on the light and peered through a dusty window.
    The building still had interior walls, but not many.
    At night, without the sunlight streaming through the empty structure, the crate was hard to see, sitting in a corner of the utility area by the cargo door.
    A big ten-by-twenty box.
    Stenciling on one side marked it: “Border Patrol—Forward Operating Base. Do Not Open Unless Authorized.”
    That’ll keep the bad guys out of it.
    I checked again, made sure the doors were secure.
    Tommy Joe must’ve been planning a move. I remembered the packing boxes at his office this morning. He’d probably recently bought these buildings and was using the one next door as the mailing and delivery address. When the crate arrived, he stuck it in the building with the loading door.
    The shipment was secure for the moment. I’d call Theo in the morning and arrange a pickup. For now, I was tired.
    I got back in the Lincoln and, after a moment’s hesitation, headed back to the judge’s house.

    Judge Clark was ready for bed when I arrived. He asked me if everything was okay, the wording such that it was clear he didn’t want details.
    I nodded. We visited for a while and then he wheeled himself to his ground-floor room.
    I went upstairs.
    A king-sized bed and a top-of-the-line air conditioner. The second-floor guest room had all that I could want.
    There was also a sitting area with a TV, common space in the middle of the bedrooms.
    About midnight, I was watching Letterman when Clark’s nurse wandered out of her room.
    She wore a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt that barely covered her ass. I had on a pair of boxers and a Jerry Jeff Walker concert shirt that had seen better days, part of the stash of clothing I kept in the Lincoln along with various toiletries.
    I nodded hello, and she sat next to me, a few inches separating us.
    “He’s a nice guy, isn’t he?” She pointed downstairs.
    I nodded again, turned up the volume a little.
    “He thinks the world of you, you know?”
    I shrugged.
    She yawned and stretched, her leg touching mine.
    “So . . . are you involved with anybody?” she said.
    Kids today. So much more forward than when I’d been in my twenties.
    “Look, it’s not that I don’t think you’re attractive.” I lowered the volume. “But I’m old enough to be your, well, significantly older brother.”
    “I like men of a certain age.” She ran a finger down my thigh.
    “I’m not that old.”
    I stood. Her hand fell away from my leg.
    We were silent for a few moments.
    “There is somebody else, isn’t there?” she said. “Must be something special.”
    She was indeed special, in ways I couldn’t articulate. I wondered where Piper was at that very