Page 15 of Stilettos & Whiskey
“You bet your ass I do. My head is bleeding,” Evans snarled.
The dispatcher calmly asked, “Where in the park are you?”
“Dunno. Why do you keep asking me stupid questions?”
Sergeant Bergman’s steely voice inquired, “Did you deliver the sandwiches to the work crew, Charlie-35?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“They were working on the Willow Campground. Where did you go from there?” Sergeant Bergman demanded.
“Down a dirt road.”
What kind of idiot mistook a hiking trail for a dirt road? Evans. I keyed my mic, “Charlie-24 to George-20, I think I know where he is.”
“Copy, Charlie-24. Respond to the park and find him.”
I winced. The sarge was beyond pissed. “Ten-four. Radio, show me en route to White Tank Park.”
“Copy, Charlie-24. I’m sending the paramedics your way.”
“Ten-four.” Evans was going to regret this day for the rest of his life.
“Charlie-26 to George-20, I’m five miles from the park,” Frank said.
Sergeant Bergman responded, “Radio, show me and Charlie-26 en route to White Tank Park.”
“Copy, George-20,” the dispatcher replied.
I flipped on my overhead lights and increased my speed. The park had 30,000 acres of cactus-strewn hills. Hikers went missing every year, and some were never found.
A scant minute later, Evans cried, “Where is my backup? I need help dammit. I’m hanging upside down.”
Did the idiot realize he sounded like a friggin’ baby?
“Take your boot knife and cut yourself free,” Sergeant Bergman instructed.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I slowed down at the entrance and zipped past the line of cars waiting to get into the park.
A fire truck blasted its horn and fell in behind me. I jumped about a foot. Where the hell had they come from? If the sneaky bastards want to play. Game on. Let’s see if they can keep up with me.
I loved this road. It was like a roller coaster ride of dips and curves. I grinned like a loon. The fire truck was keeping up with me. I flipped on my right turn signal, slowed, and pulled into the Willow Campground.
The fire truck’s horn blared.
Holy crap! The fire truck was right on my ass, and the driver had a big grin on his face. He was having a little too much fun. Damn! Sitting next to him was Captain Smith who was friends with my dad, and a big-time prankster.
I spotted the twelve-man chain gang and two deputies at the back of the campground. Driving over to them, I rolled my window down and hollered, “Hey Ben, did you see which trail Evans took?”
Ben strolled over to me with a shotgun in one hand. He had a big wad of chewing tobacco stuffed in his left cheek. “The moron wrecked his patrol car, didn’t he?”
“Yep.”
Ben spat on the ground. “Told him that last flash flood wiped out the Sonoran trail, but he wouldn’t listen. He said he knew what he was doing, and it was a shortcut back to the main highway. When I pointed out that the rocks would tear out the oil pan on his patrol car, he just laughed at me and took off.”
“He’s not laughing now. He flipped his vehicle.” I backed my patrol car to the fire truck and shouted, “He took the Sonoran trail, Captain Smith.”
“Not a smart move,” Captain Smith called.
