The bedrock of the town itself felt the deep vibrations of so many exhaustless performance V8 engines starting and accelerating out of town all at once. O'Connor heard the cacophony of Yahtzee vehicles, but he didn't really listen until the first of the banshee screaming sirens announced the pursuit of live prey. As more sirens joined the hunt, their dysphonic call spoke to the sergeant on a primal level. He glanced up hopefully at the chief.

  Martinez didn't even look up from his old laptop, wired through Paulson's briefcase for a power supply. He pointed at the Tahoe's gold top 12v deep cell, and brand-new jumper cables, sitting abandoned in the corner. The siren song continued for what seemed like a long time, a few stragglers joining from the north and screaming through downtown Arroyo Grande. For lack of a working radio, there was no way to hear the patter of the local law enforcement, either.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  O'Connor watched as the chief stopped scrolling through his document. As the last of the sirens wailed mournfully out of town, Martinez hung his head and reached up to massage the bridge of his nose.

  “I should probably get that back in the unit, huh?” O'Connor offered.

  The chief removed his glasses and nodded without a word.

  Paulson chuckled.

  O'Connor glared at him.

  Still half lashed to a hotel chair in his underwear Mr. Paulson decided that it wasn't really that funny after all.