Friends of the Tracks

By Moises Molina

Tommy Don Mueller, a proficient but unorthodox detective ends up
having to show gratitude towards a person that had saved him from the
consequences of the rough ways he had adopted to solve cases. He accepts
a missing person case that pushes him into a pit of government activities
and organizations that ultimately leaves him questioning his career in law
enforcement.
Always a loner as a detective for the Kansas City Police Department, he
has no choice but to partner with Sandra Puja, a government sanctioned
neutralizer. As they search for a missing U.S. candidate for a senate seat,
they are led to a forgotten community south of Kansas City. They are

welcomed by a quaint and yet mysterious community enjoying the inno-
cence of abandoned children mingling without the town's knowledge. The

search intensifies as they realize the possible whereabouts of the missing
candidate, and the determination of the abandoned children's desire for
justice.
With the help of a local deputy sheriff, Melanie "Bluejay" McCoy,
Tommy finds romance and an abandoned community prepared to protect
themselves at whatever cost.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Moises Molina
• Release date: Feb 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223073758

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

O kay, you have to look up when pushing. You can cause an accident. Casandra yelled at her friends. She wiped her hands on her pant leg. The mud from her hands spread out into a thick glob before sticking to her clothes. She looked up at her friends and grunted in distaste at them. The glob fell to the ground.

Tonya and Nina smiled at the dirty sight.

Why does she have to ride up on top? The monster is heavy enough! Catsy declared. She straightened up and placed her hands on her hips in defiance of the previous decisions to allow anyone the right to increase the weight of their catch. She stared at the source of the problem. She was being ignored.

Catsy was a big girl for being fourteen years old. She turned her gaze at Casandra. She shook her head in disbelief. Casandra was dusting herself off. ‘Did she not know the caves were dusty?’ Catsy wondered to herself. As drops of water grazed the tips of her eye lashes, it jerked her to swing her stare at Slugger. She sat straddled up on top of the catch. Focused. She kept rubbing the top of his head with the tip of her wooden club. Cassandra looked up with a prim expression. She kept fighting the dust clinging to her clothes. A never-ending battle from the depth of their safe haven. She looked at Catsy and then at her best friend, Slugger. She uttered angrily, Uuggg! I hate getting dirty.

Although trying to continue her distaste, Catsy couldn’t hide her amusement. She turned to a tug on her leg. A small statured boy said. I’ll help you. Catsy smiled and pulled the dead pool mask off his face.

She said, Thank you, my knight in shining armor. Come on. She ruffled his thick curly black hair and kissed the nose on the mask before putting it back on his face.

The children continued their laborious trek into the cave. Other children showed up and helped push through the menacing mud. The

wheels would slide and cause the cart to waver left and right. A couple of them concentrated on the mud caked wheels. Grunts and giggles were heard.

As they entered their control center, Stephanie approached them.

She said, Be careful with the planks. The water level is rising.

The catch was wheeled down the swaying wooden planks. They moved with precision, not bothered by the deep aqueduct beneath them. They bathed and played in it. Thoughts of it drying up would have caused real fear. The analogous given to the younger ones was that the aqueduct was milk from the breast of a mother, safe keeping them.

The clanking of metal and keys jingled a tune from a jailer awaiting the catch. Their dirty bodies and tired looks pleased him. Smiles and high fives were seen. Although not easy, the jailer knew that all the catches were satisfying.

Okay, let’s move him. The fifteen-year-old jailer barked his orders. Sonny ran a serious trap. Not knowing what would come of the catch’s future, he began to call the jail like structures, ‘The Trap’.

A half dozen girls and boys scrambled to relocate the catch. They worked methodically to strip the monster of his expensive suit. The catch was placed into a clean, white and loose attire. The nylon straps were secured around his body. His lethargic body only swayed from the children’s movement. As they continued to secure the catch, Sonny entered the cage. He gave the cage another inspection. They were all clean and escape proof. He looked at the catch settle comfortably on stacked mattresses with colorful flowery bed sheets.

Let’s get those costumes off and get washed up, Catsy ordered her crew.

Stephanie watched as the kids scurried off to their sleeping quarters. The costumes were an important part of the mission’s success. They represented a personal expression in the moment. Catsy wore Shena, the warrior princess. A couple of Iron Men and Slugger as Wolverine. Slugger had made special metal spikes. She loved entertaining her crew with acrobatic moves. She would strike objects and growled like a wolverine.

Friends of the Tracks

Stephanie turned to Sonny, securing the cage. The drugs were administered by a small statured boy. Sonny said, Ten more and we’ll have a room problem. Maybe up to twelve.

Plenty of room, Stephanie said as she stared at their latest catch.

3

CHAPTER 2

The small elevator was an enclosure adding to his concerns. Homicide detective, Tommy Don Mueller was bothered by the suspect’s quiet demeanor. The suspect was known to assault police officers. His hatred for law enforcement was not a secret with the department. Tommy cut his eyes to the suspect. He was trying to keep him from any act that would cause him to become angry.

The six-foot White Supremacist increased his head movement. His breathing rapid and loud, Tommy could hear a low growling sound. His chest heaved heavily. His back arching, Tommy would have preferred some alien ripping through his skin so as to justify what the new policy stressed, should be a police officer’s last resort with a problematic suspect. He knew the suspect was trying to shake off a mean substance. The suspect’s movements increased. With every whip of the suspect’s head came a tense twitch that Tommy felt as he held onto the suspect’s arm.

Tommy looked up at the numbers above the entrance. How he wanted the elevator door to ding and let in pure law enforcement air. He knew he couldn’t afford another violent confrontation. The last one won him the displeasure of the politicians and their constituents. As innocent as some tried to portray the last suspect. Tommy would have crossed the line of no return; he would have killed him if his young daughter didn’t make him think and realize what he was about to do.

Tommy moved a foot defensively away from the suspect. The suspect’s chest continued to reach out into the vast space of their confinement. Expanding for air or maybe to stretch in a display of strength and dominance, Tommy said, Hey, we’ll get this cleared up. It’s probably a simple mistake of misidentification. It happens all the time. We don’t have a perfect system.

The suspect’s scream pierced the air and caused Tommy to slide his hand in a palm push position on the suspect’s arm. The suspect jerked his body opposite of Tommy and violently lunged his shoulder at

Tommy. The suspect was quick and strong. Tommy felt the force of the assault as the shoulder demanded to be driven into Tommy’s chest. He continued to growl as he plowed with full force.

Not giving much thought to the threat, Tommy wiggled his body towards the door. His left palm caught the suspect on his chin as he continued his movement. He twisted to position, his back on the door. He felt the suspect’s head scrape the wall as he continued the circular motion. The suspect snapped at Tommy with his mouth in an attempt to bite him. Tommy increased pressure, digging the heel of his palm into the suspect’s cheek bone and hooking his thumb in the suspect’s ear.

Tommy struck him on the back of his neck and drove his knee into the crook of the back of the suspect’s leg. Tommy changed his circular motion and drove the suspect to the floor. Tommy’s complete control deceived the suspect into thinking his fall was violent. The suspect landed in front of the door. Tommy used his lower leg and drove him into the corner. He drove his thumb behind the suspect’s ear. The pain caused a different sound. The elevator door dinged as he drove a forearm into the suspect’s lower jaw.

Put the belt into his mouth, Detective Connory yelled.

Tommy released pressure as more detectives joined in the restraint of the suspect. The screams momentarily resumed, loud and animalistic!

Got another meth head. Secure him, Connory ordered. He turned his head to a calmed Tommy. You didn’t bash his head! Strange. In control, huh? Connory looked at Tommy for a moment, he said, Go get cleaned up. We got him.

Detective Ambrey Schuman stared at Tommy as he stared at the suspect. She noticed his breathing slow down to a new tune everyone would have to get used to. She admired his proficiency as a detective. Never handing in a cold file, but his unorthodox tactics concerned many.

Tommy...Tommy, Schumen called to him.

He slowly turned to her. A devious smile faced a serious Schumen.

He said, I did good, huh!

She turned to the suspect being secured on the floor. Growls and sporadic movements increased as he tried to break free from his captor. She knew no broken jaws or life-threatening injuries were caused by Tommy. There was barely any blood or apparent bruises to be attributed to Tommy. She faced Tommy with a smile and said, Damn right. The cameras show it. You did really good.

TOMMY LEANED HEAVILY against the restroom’s tiled countertop. He watched as the cold water struck the drain perfectly, like tight tassels through a silver ring. The running water echoed him into lingering in a hidden moment deep in his mind. He lowered his head as he slipped into suppressed thoughts. Memories deceived him into questioning his decision to embrace the reason that molded him into the detective he was. He hoped she was here and there—everywhere he had stomped his boots in the name of justice. He wondered if she was an angel or maybe lying in the dirt waiting to be raised. Damn! Not now, he muttered softly. He shook his head like a fighter in a bout.

He cupped his hands under the running water. The coolness refreshed and played him against the need for warm water and soap. He splashed his face and ran his wet fingers through his military cut hair. He repeated the ritual, not caring for the mess he was making. He paused. Droplets of water caressed his face as they rolled down to his shirt. He stared at his reflection in the mirror.

You did good, old boy, he congratulated his reflection. He reached for a paper towel; the noise of dragging feet brought him back to the moment.

Well... well, if it isn’t ‘Gun Ho Don’. Hell of a day for you. Did you kick his ass? Break something on his body? The bottom of your boots must have a healthy amount of skin tissues - or maybe fibers from the person under your custody. Come on, you can tell me. We are on the same side, Detective Cumplash jeered. With his back to the mirror, he leaned into a sitting position next to Tommy. He clasped his hands on his protruding belly. His sarcasm was a jardinière for his disdain of Tommy. A bad taste in his mouth.

Tommy continued to dry his face and hands. He suppressed a smile

when he noticed Cumplash’s pants soaking up the watery mess. His cotton slacks took in the liquid. Cumplash was part of the department’s public relations office. Tommy turned to him and said, For your information, and please feel at liberty to quote me, the suspect was in good health after the confrontation. My people will attest to that.

Your people, huh! Cumplash said, and shook his head, in disbelief. You mean the detectives that cover your ass when you should have been in prison garbs a long time ago. In fact... Cumplash stopped at the voice behind him.

Captain Nukten’s voice was like a pair of nose plyers with a pair of jokers. It dug deep without a clue towards his next words. You had to sit tight for the clarity in his words as they led to a decision. He said, I.A.D. is waiting, Tommy.

Captain Nukten, it is good to see you, sir, Cumplash said. He quickly stood at attention.

Tommy smiled at Cumplash’s wet pants.

The Captain stared Cumplash down. He said, Bring me the new posters for the public. The other ones fail to reflect our integrity to serve the public. Be sure they cover our imperfections. A criminal can be excused. We will not be excused.

Yes, sir, Cumplash said. His behavior seemed niggling to many in the department. Cumplash excused himself and walked past the Captain.

Tommy followed and was stopped by the Captain’s big hands. He was a towering man. He said, Good work, Don.

Thank you, sir, Tommy said and continued past the captain.

IT WASN’T TOMMY’S FIRST encounter with the Internal Affairs division. His past was riddled with questionable tactics in his detective career. ‘Believe me sweetie, I only get rough with the crazy ones,’ he once told his preteen daughter. His last encounter created an intense regret towards his no-nonsense attitude when confronting a criminal. Seeing

his daughter shocked at how he handled a perv’ jerked him to a calmness he had never felt when dealing with a perv’. She winced at the sound of cracking