Tuesday word count starting: 108, 273.
Tuesday word count ending: 107, 142.
Progress. Sadly Sgt. Munoz had to go. I really liked him, too.
I wanted to address the censorship brigade that decided to complain about sex in the books. Not sure what possessed you to show your good china in public, but your comments are now moderated, which means they will be read by us before they are allowed to appear on the blog. If you don’t understand why you’ve been put into the queue, read the blog rules page.
Now then, we promised you that we will post deleted scenes. Here it is. Sorry, it’s Munoz again but if we posted the rest of our deleted words, it would go something like this: is is will that will something know will is which that that that is.
Sergeant Munoz gave me his hard cop stare. Middle-aged, light-skinned, and world-weary, he looked like a cop who had always been a cop. It was impossible to imagine him as young or naïve. Instead he must have come into this world just like this, wrapped in authority, jaded, and empowered by the city of Houston to take on all of its chaotic craziness.
He was standing by the broken window that the killer had jumped out of. He had also viewed the two burned bodies and the corpse, which had turned black and fuzzy. None of it fazed him, and right now he was wasting my time in a methodical thorough fashion. I had to grit my teeth to keep from sprinting down the hallway and to my car. Every second counted.
“And then what happened?”
“The man jumped out of the window.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Sergeant Munoz, I am not a telepath. I do not have the capacity to answer that question. I can only express what I believe his motivation might have been.”
“And that is?”
Ask a stupid question… “I believe he was trying to escape. Which he did.”
Munoz peered at me. “And you’ve never seen him before?”
“No.” I lied.
“Describe him again?”
“A Caucasian or light-skinned Hispanic male with dark hair between twenty and thirty.”
And I had just given him the description of a quarter of Houston’s male population. Have fun with that.
“As I’ve pointed out four times now, this entire incident has been recorded by security cameras. The footage will show that Ms. Etterson and I were attacked without provocation and we defended ourselves as is our right under Article 3 paragraph 1 through 4 of the House Protection Act.”
“Is that so?” Sgt. Munoz’s eyebrows crept up a quarter of an inch.
“You have no cause to detain either me or Runa Etterson. We have cooperated, and we have given our statements.”
“Ms. Baylor.” He frowned. “You wouldn’t happen to have an older sister, would you?”
That was just too much. “When Nevada encountered you, she was under a great deal of stress trying to keep us alive and save Houston. She didn’t have a chance to note that every time there was an incident requiring law enforcement response, you mysteriously appeared on the scene. But I did.”
He watched me, impassive. I kept going.
“You are attached to the House Response Unit of Houston PD, tasked specifically with handling incidents involving Houses. Every member of this unit is assigned a number of families, in which he becomes expert. So, you know perfectly well that I have an older sister and that she is currently out of the country. You know the names of every person in our family, their birth dates, and their magic. You probably know the exact nature of my powers, despite the fact that my records are sealed. You are here because my last name popped up in your system. So please don’t insult my intelligence.”
Sgt. Munoz sighed. “Your sister had a lot more respect for law enforcement.”
“I have great respect for law enforcement, which is why I patiently answered your questions three times. Since the cover up failed, I have every reason to believe that my client has a target pinned to her back. We are out here in an environment I can’t control, and if an attempt on her life is made, your officers will become collateral damage. I see at least three locations from which one could line up a long-range shot. I need to take her to a secure location, because we are sitting ducks here. Are we being detained? If not, are we free to go? How much longer are you going to put a twenty-two-year-old girl in danger by asking me questions you know the answers to?”
The world-weary expression slipped off his face, and the real Sgt. Munoz looked back at me with sharp alert eyes. “You’re not telling me everything.”
“Our family is represented by Sabrian Turner.” Which he also already knew. “I’ll be happy to continue this discussion at a later date with my attorney present.”
“You are free to go. Take care, Ms. Baylor. You’ve just frustrated some dangerous people. They’re not going to stop.”
And that’s exactly why we needed to get out of here. “Thank you for the advice.
And now it’s back to editing. Kudoes to those of you who identified Henry V in the last post. Here is today’s quote: “We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice: ‘We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on! We’re going to survive!”