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In the bright sunlight, Casey slipped on dark sunglasses and
stopped beside the faded blue trailer. A large spider web glistened
in the sun stretching from the bottom of the trailer to sun-rotted
tires. Someone had fastened a television antenna to the awning rail
of the trailer using duct tape. Casey could hear The Jerry Springer
Show inside, as the audience chanted "Jerry...Jerry." Casey rapped
on the door once. "Snake needs ya."
A man's soft voice called from inside. "Oh, dear. What does he need?"
"Ain't no mind reader." Casey pressed his back against the trailer,
keeping an eye on the back door of the bar.
When the trailer door opened a crack, Casey reached inside,
grabbed the man's neck and pulled him forward. A beer bottle
shattered against the trailer steps as a skinny man in a tattered
muscle shirt screamed and somersaulted out the door, landing on
his butt.
Casey pressed his Nike against the man's throat. "You're late for
your court appointment, Ritchie."
"Oh, no!" Ritchie's eyes blinked wide. He grabbed Casey's ankle
and struggled to remove the shoe from his neck. Tears rolled
down his cheeks. "You're hurting me," he managed.
Reaching into his jacket pocket, Casey pulled out a pair of
handcuffs. He rolled Ritchie onto his stomach. "About a month
late... for your trial."
Trying to twist free, Ritchie wheezed, "Snake, get this animal
off me. Please!"
Looking up, Casey saw the bartender lumbering toward him
with a scowl creasing his angry face. Squeezing the handle of a
baseball bat, he charged with a loud roar and raised the bat
over his head.
Casey dropped the handcuffs and pulled a Taser from his
pocket, and pointed the weapon at the charging man. "Don't
do it!"
The bartender stopped ten feet away, still holding the bat
over his head. A snarl curled his lip. "You ain't takin' Ritchie."
"It's okay, Snake. They allow conjugal visits in prison."