Out in the garage, they could hear the muffled sounds of Boyd swearing loudly, followed by the heavy metallic screech of bolt cutters failing against hardened steel alloy. 10 minutes later, Boyd stormed back into the booking area, his face red with exertion and fury. The military padlocks had defeated his bolt cutters, and the Pelican cases remained sealed. Boyd stomped over to the holding cell, gripping the bars and glaring at Jackson. "Give me the combinations, now!"
"No," Jackson said simply. "I can hold you here for 72 hours without charging you, boy," Boyd threatened, his voice dropping to a menacing growl. "Accidents happen in local jails. People fall down the stairs. People get into fights.
Give me the damn cuffs. Ty stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with Jackson. Ty's smile was completely devoid of warmth. Deputy, you are a small man in a small pond. You are used to bullying people who don't know how to fight back, but I promise you, you do not want to see what happens when the people you locked in this cage decide they want to leave it.
Boyd instinctively took a half step back, suddenly terrified by the dead-eyed certainty in Ty's voice. To cover his fear, he slammed his baton against the bars. Tough guys, we'll see how tough you are when you stand in front of Judge Higgins tomorrow morning. She hates out-of-town drug runners. Jackson ignored the outburst.
He turned his attention toward the front desk. Sheriff Montgomery, Jackson called out. I have been in custody for 2 hours. I am exercising my constitutional right to a single telephone call. If you deny me this, you are adding civil rights violations to your growing list of federal offenses.
Montgomery, looking increasingly nervous, glanced at Boyd. Frankie, just let him make the damn call. If he calls a lawyer, at least we look like we're following procedure. Boyd sneered, but unlocked the cell door. Fine.
Come make your call, hot shot. Let's hear which cartel boss you cry to. Jackson was escorted to the front desk. A heavy, old rotary-style landline sat on the counter. His handcuffs were still securely fastened behind his back.
Can't dial with your hands tied, Boyd mocked. Who you calling? Your mama? Ty, Jackson said, ignoring the deputy. Ty, still in the cell, watched intently.
I need you to dial for me. He's not leaving the cell, Boyd snapped. Jackson slowly turned his head to look at Boyd. Then dial it for me, deputy. Area code 619 555 01908 Boyd laughed.
California number. Sure, I'll dial it. Let's put it on speaker so we can all hear. Boyd punched in the numbers and slammed the speaker button. The phone rang twice.