Fields of Wrath (Luis Chavez Book 1) Read Online Free Page A

out of trouble. When he graduated community college with a degree in criminal justice, he didn’t wait before applying to the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Department. He flew through twenty weeks of departmental training and a few weeks later was a Los Angeles County sheriff.
    Now with his own squad car, he never put on shades, never treated anyone with condescension, and introduced himself to residents and business owners, addressing them as “sir” and “ma’am.”
    You want respect? Treat others with respect.
    At six foot four, he was an imposing presence. He was fair but by the book. The one law enforcement officer in the city who didn’t talk on his cell while driving. His stony gaze alone ended arguments and turned liars into truth tellers.
    “Sir?” the pharmacist said. “There’s a problem.”
    The pharmacist eyed Ernesto as if fearing this news might lead to trouble.
    “What’s that?” Ernesto asked, putting his hands on the counter.
    “Your father’s insurance covers three refills, but he needs to go back to the doctor to re-up.”
    “Can’t they call it in? It’s hard for him to leave the house.”
    “No, it’s a requirement of his provider.”
    Ernesto scanned the man’s face for signs he was looking to fuck with a cop. Not seeing any, he paid for the other prescriptions and left.
    Traffic was light out to Downey. He parked in front of his old man’s apartment complex and headed in.
    “Dad?” he asked, hauling the bags to the kitchen.
    “Be right out, Nesto!” came a voice from the bedroom.
    Ernesto unpacked the groceries, kicking himself for once again forgetting to bring over the most recent school photos of his boys. The ones on his dad’s fridge were over a year old.
    Next time.
    Moises Quintanilla, a bent old man in his midseventies, emerged from the hall, an outsized smile on his face.
    “How are you, mijo ?”
    “Good, papi . I picked up your prescriptions.”
    Moises limped over to check the pill bottles. He’d been as tall as his son once but had dropped inches as his spine weakened and bowed. When he’d had hip replacement surgery a few years back, he lost another couple of inches, as well as a step or two. Then came the incontinence, followed by the heart trouble, and finally the rheumatoid arthritis. At this point, getting from room to room in his apartment was about all Moises could manage.
    There was a noise from the hallway. Ernesto glanced to his father, who waved the third party into the doorway.
    “You remember Father Chavez,” Moises said. “He dropped by to see if I needed anything.”
    Ernesto met Luis’s gaze. He’d liked the priest when he met him. The priest was personable and genuinely cared about his parishioners. It was Luis who’d contacted Ernesto about home visits once Moises could no longer attend services, and from the first day Moises had raved about the priest.
    It was when Ernesto found out Luis was from Los Angeles that things went south. As he did with everyone who entered his family circle, he’d typed Luis’s name into the police criminal records database. He didn’t like what came back. The city was rife with Chicanos trying to put a heavy street background behind them, but those guys weren’t visiting his father for Bible study and prayer. Luis Chavez had run with some serious criminals.
    To his surprise, when he’d confronted Luis about it, the priest copped to everything and even said he’d discussed it with Moises. Regardless, it had given Ernesto pause. If there was one truism in law enforcement, it was that those who broke the law were likely to do so again. Even those who joined the priesthood.
    “I was telling Luis it’s a shame you can’t get to services anymore,” Moises said. “One of the boys always has sports. When you were a kid, nobody scheduled anything on the Sabbath.”
    “Times change, Pop.”
    Ernesto turned to Luis, bracing himself for further chastisement.
    “The Bible only tells us to keep the Sabbath