The Grey Man- Partners by Curtis JL

Author:Curtis, JL [Curtis, JL]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: JLC&A
Published: 2016-08-30T16:00:00+00:00

Bad Day at the Office

“How was your lunch Captain?” Miguel asked as he dropped another taco in Yogi’s bowl.

The old man groaned, “Miguel, I don’t see how you make any money out of this place. Your portions will feed a family of four, with leftovers! It was excellent as always, and I appreciate your taking care of Yogi too.”

Yogi perked up at hearing his name, and leaned against Miguel with his head in his lap. Miguel laughed as he ruffled the fur on Yogi’s back, “We take care of those who take care of us. And Yogi is a good dog.”

The old man’s laugh was cut off by his radio going off with an alert tone, “All units, all units, BOLO white two thousand eight Ford panel truck, license unknown. Possible bullet holes in right side due to gunfire. Last seen heading west on two-seventy-seven near Jimenez at time one one three three local. Three Los Zetas shooters believed to be in vehicle with unknown number of others. Consider armed and dangerous.”

The old man shook his head, “Well, I guess I better go to work,” pulling out a twenty he handed it to Miguel, “This should cover our lunch.” Miguel tried to wave it off, but the old man said, “Dammit Miguel, take the money.”

Miguel replied, “Captain, you do so much for us, the least…”

“The least I can do is pay for my lunch. Gotta run. C’mon Yogi.” Yogi jumped up and followed the old man to the car as he keyed his mic, “Car four, I’ll take the county line at two-eighty-five.”

Dispatch replied, “Roger Car four. Be advised no backup available, unless Terrell can provide something.”

“Car four. I’ll be up on interagency.”

“Roger Car four.”

***

Thirty minutes later, the interagency channel crackled to life, “Dispatch, one-sixty-one. Have a late model white Ford van abandoned, Edwards Road Loop, Terrell County. West of sixteen-sixty-four, bullet holes right rear quarter.”

The old man finally remembered where that was, the little town of Quemado. He was sure when he heard Burt Day, the Terrell County sheriff come on the radio giving directions to his people. The old man took Yogi out quickly, then loaded him back up. He started the car, cleared off the interagency channel since he wasn’t needed in Terrell County, and headed back to town. Half way there, he heard, “Two-fourteen to Car four. Request you meet me at the hospital.”

Recognizing Deputy Ortiz’ voice, and the tone, the old man keyed his mic, “Four. My ETA is ten minutes Two-fourteen. Where do you want me to meet you?”

“ER,” Ortiz replied in a dead voice.

The old man flipped on the lights and picked up the pace, whatever was going on wasn’t going to be good, if Ortiz’ tone of voice was a precursor. Thinking back, he hadn’t heard any tone out, or any other calls to or from two-fourteen all day. Ten minutes later, the old man walked through the ER entrance to see Deputy Ortiz slumped in one of the waiting room chairs, his head in his hands.

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