“Thank you, dear, much appreciated. We having ham steak tonight?”
“Nothing but.”
“I’ll be ten-two for a while. I got a feeling Dobie’s about to get himself into trouble again.”
“Roger that, eight-forty. Over.”
“Over and out.” He hung up the receiver. The guy on his knees was not only too tall, he’d looked older than his thirties; forties easily. And his bag had been off-white.
Dang it, Dobie… He hadn’t wanted to go out of service, but Dobie was family, and that meant dealing with whatever he was up to on the down low.
He took the phone off his belt and speed-dialed the officer.
“Well… hey there, boss!” Buckwalter said. “I was just thinking about you and saying to Ricky Nettles what—”
“How come you ain’t rolling already?”
“I got a few things to take care of. But don’t you fret, boss; thief’s cooling his heels cuffed to the backseat of the Challenger. Won’t be but ten, fifteen minutes.”
“Did you happen to check the description before—”
“BOSS! YOU STILL THERE? Can’t hear you no more.”
Parnell gritted his teeth. Is he pulling my leg? “Now, Dobie, don’t you go doing nothing stupid...”
“Can’t hear a thing,” Dobie voice came back softly through his handset.
The call dropped.
Ah, hell. Parnell took a deep breath to keep the stress at bay, then started the cruiser’s engine again. He reminded himself he had to call his witless cousin one day and thank her for sending her no-good idiot of a son to work for the department.
But you can’t fire family, unfortunately.
Bob watched Buckwalter end the call.
“Parnell’s so square, he’ll up and believe that call actually dropped.” The officer snickered.
His friend Ricky grinned broadly, removing the cigarette to quickly agree. “Probably apologize to you for the department’s use of such a lousy service. ‘I do most humbly apologize that you was so egregiously inconvenienced’,” he mocked.
In Bob’s bag, a phone began to vibrate.
Damn it. Only one phone in there set to vibrate. And we just talked.
If she’s calling now, it’s important.
Parnell heard it, too. “Well now… seems someone wants to yammer at ya. But they’ll just have to wait.”
But it couldn’t wait, Bob knew. If Dawn was in trouble… “Okay… take these things off me and I’ll sign whatever you need,” he said, holding up his shackled wrists.
“Uh huh… I don’t think so,” Buckwalter said. He leaned in close and lowered his voice until it was soft and gentle. “Now… what’s going to happen is, Ricky’s going to go get a copy of the department’s rules and regulations out of my car. It’s a big sucker, about three inches thick. It’s a funny thing, though, that when you hold it up against a man and hit him through the book, it don’t leave no bruises but he sure as heck still feels the punch. Now… what you think about that, big man?”
Ricky took his cue, heading off toward the yellow Challenger at the end of the lot. “So… once he gets back here, you guys are planning on beating the crap out of me, then?” Bob asked.
Zeke snapped his gum. “He ain’t too stupid.”
“So… there’s really no percentage on me being helpful, then?”
The officer sounded confused. “What?”
Bob pivoted on his left knee, putting all his weight on it, feeling the sting of the dirt and gravel as he turned twenty degrees counterclockwise. He leaned forward, using his cuffed hands flat on the ground to brace his weight as his right leg shot out, snapping a kick that caught Buckwalter in the knee joint, slamming it sideways.
The cop went down hard, shrieking from the pain of a torn tendon.
His friend Zeke turned to react, but Bob was already rolling sideways to his left, coming up on the balls of both feet and swinging his left leg in a circle at the hip, the ‘coffee grinder’ sweep taking the man’s feet from under him.
Zeke crashed to the ground, a pistol popping out of his waistband and clattering on the hard-packed dirt and gravel.
Bob could hear Ricky running back towards them. He leaped to his feet and retrieved the pistol, momentarily thankful Buckwalter had cuffed his hands in front of him. The Team had taught him to ‘hop’ wrists cuffed behind by partially dislocating his shoulders, but it was painful and would’ve taken more time than he’d had.
Buckwalter was struggling to rise on a twisted knee, Zeke rolling over after landing flat on his back. Ricky reached for his belt as he sprinted towards them.
Bob turned the pistol his way. “Uh-uh,” he cautioned. “I don’t need a whole lot of free movement to shoot you.”
Ricky stopped running.
“Hands up,” Bob said, “where I can see them.” He quarter-turned again so that he could watch Ricky and the other men. Buckwalter’s hand drifted towards his holster. Bob shook his head slowly. “Not a good idea.” He gestured towards himself. “Keys. Now.”
Buckwalter raised a palm in protest. “Now come on, here, son… you’re being real foolish! I am an officer of the law! You just give yourself up. Let’s talk, sensible like.”
