When it rains, it pours, Junior thought, tucking the last pistol into the holder in the Beetle. He pressed the panel closed with a light click, the dashboard looking pretty well untouched with the compartment closed. It was the fifth of its kind he had hollowed out and camouflaged in the little vehicle. He had been planning these for awhile, both in the little VW and the Wagoneer, but he was sure going to need them with the charges he was facing. Can’t be caught cartin around this much firepower with that hangin over his head.
It hadn’t been a great month so far.
Another missed weekend, due to a jail stay this time. Beth was gonna fight to take em away at this point. It had been an uphill battle to begin with, what with the alcohol and all. She even moved states a year ago hoping he wouldn’t follow. Junior’d be damned if he wasn’t going to see Aiden whenever he could. He picked up and moved, found work. Now work was makin it worse.
The charge. Manslaughter. Well, he was defending his life, he knew that. Guy had already killed one girl, attacked others. Everyone saw how unnatural that was. But he was a cop, and Junior still didn’t know what possessed him to go after the damn beast without the full team. At least he hadn’t actually done the actual killing shot… But how was he gonna explain chewin on the dude? Lawyers gotta handle that part, he guessed.
Came home to a letter after that. Uncle Jeremy had passed. Junior had kept in touch when he could, but the man didn’t really have any other kin, what with his wife already passed, Junior’s dad dead, and no kids. Fell to Junior to take care of the funeral. He did always have a soft spot for the man. Jer’d taught him to shoot, told him stories, been a big part of his upbringin. Still, Junior’d gotten a big surprise when he showed up to the Lexington County Morgue to claim the body. He met his uncle’s lawyer.
‘Fuck You’ money. That’s what Junior thought of it like. Land. His uncle hadn’t been up to much the past decade or so, just sittin on his couple acres, livin easy. The simple life. Somethin he never told Junior or his pops was he had money. Stocks, bonds, pension. Junior’d done well for himself lately with some hard work and a few lucky antique car flip sales, but this was a windfall he’d never seen coming.
Junior’d held a quaint little ceremony, like what was in the will. Couple folks what were important to his uncle, then made a hike up far as he could the Maudlin mount nearby and scattered the ashes. Two weeks he spent down that way, gettin things in order, but also plannin, orderin, makin some calls.
See, Junior got to understandin, after the initial shock. He didn’t wanna take the money and do dumb things, or worse, nothin at all. He had a life, and he was findin, he had things he wanted to do.
Aiden was his priority, first, o’course. But that meant he had some things to wrangle, some legal fights coming. And damnsite, he was gonna try an make the world a safer place for his kid.
Junior pushed the door shut to the Beetle, comin out of the little thinkin he was doing. He checked the trunk compartment on the Wagoneer, where he was storin the long guns. Everything was sittin pretty, he thought, snapping it shut and throwin some clothes duffels into the back on top. Slammin the tailgate shut, swiping a hand across his forehead, he was thinkin he had more than a few hurdles comin up.
Tossin a rag into the bin, headin for the door into HQ proper, he was thinkin he just might be able to keep jumping.