Rico: A Short Story

In late September after Rico, a low level crack dealer in North Las Vegas, was picked up on charges, he was asked why he was now dealing on the street. He said someone was renovating the old homeless shelter and the tweekers who normally ruled the place were all gone.

* * *

The sheriff looked at the picture attached to the missing person’s report.

Carmel was a beauty queen. Her homecoming picture showed the blonde was tall and shapely, with a youthful innocence despite the fact that the man next to her in the picture – clearly a boyfriend - was more than twenty years older. He looked like he should be her pedophilic father, not her boyfriend.

For the past two months, the man insisted the last time he’d seen her was in her bedroom at her mother’s
The old homeless shelter was the largest crack house in the valley, so when it cleared out, his income plummeted worse than a bungee jumper with a cord that is too long. And then it sat empty for almost a year before they started work on it again.

* * *

Carmel and Anderson heard footsteps on the cover they were under. They shielded their eyes for the light that never came.

They heard construction equipment start. Not long after, they both fell asleep.

* * *

In a brightly lit warehouse, a generator ran, its exhaust stack connected to a hose that that was connected to a large steel road plate.

* * *

Rico saw a panel van leave the worksite at the old shelter. Nothing special, old fading white, with ladders strapped to a rack on top, no windows. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a sore reminder much longer.

* * *

Officer Curtis drove past the old homeless shelter at the end of his shift. Deserted as usual. But in the glow of street lights, he thought he saw smoke.

Without any warning other than the light smoke, the roof suddenly caved in and flames shot skyward.

Curtis calmly called it in.

* * *

Rico strolled over to Curtis’ cruiser, “Fuuuuck. That a big ol’