Page 4 of Stilettos & Whiskey (Deputy Gemma Stone)

My cellphone beeped. Huh? Frank had sent me a text. I brought it up. Evans still hasn’t delivered the egg sandwiches to the chain gang. The guards are pissed.

I typed back. Did he get a call?

No. He’s making traffic stops. Three in a row.

OMG! The sarge is gonna be pissed.

He had Evan go to channel four for a chat.

Whoa!

“Charlie-35 show me en route to the White Tank Mountains.” Evans’ voice was an ill-tempered growl.

Laughing emojis scrolled across my screen. The bet is still on.

Okay.

About thirty minutes later, Evans shrieked over the radio, “Mayday, mayday, mayday.”

I groaned. Not only was that not a proper radio code, but it looked like I owed Frank twenty bucks.

“State the nature of your emergency and your location Charlie-35,” the dispatcher responded.

Ugh. Evans hadn’t used his call sign either, and it was a good thing our dispatchers were the best in the state, or we’d be doing a roll call to see who was in trouble.

“I’m at the White Tank Mountain Park and my vehicle is upside down in a gully.”

“Do you require the paramedics?”

“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.

To my dismay, instead of waiting for me to check it out, the huge fire truck lumbered down the rocky trail, sending up a cloud of dust. I quickly rolled up my window. I caught a brief glimpse of the grinning firefighters in the side mirror. Paybacks are a bitch, boys.

A mile down the trail, the fire truck stopped abruptly, and the horn blasted. Captain Smith and his crew bailed out with their emergency gear.

I keyed my mic, “Radio we have located Charlie-35 a mile south of the Willow Campground on the Sonoran trail.

“Copy, Charlie-24,” the dispatcher responded.

“George-20 copies.”

“Charlie-26 my eta is two minutes.”

“Ten-four.” I got out of my patrol car and hurried after them.

Bleeding from a small cut on his forehead, Evans got to his feet and snapped, “About fucking time you got here. I could have bled to death.”

Captain Smith and his crew exchanged glances.

My temper flared to life. Talk about ungrateful. “You didn’t know where you were. The park is 30,000 acres. You’re lucky we found you as fast as we did.”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” Evans snarled and cocked his fist back.

Captain Smith stepped in front of me. “Enough! Sit on that boulder and let my paramedics check you over.”

“I’m tired of your incompetence, Garza, and I’m reporting you to Sergeant Bergman.” With a huff, Evans sat on the boulder.

Ignoring him, I walked over to the gully and whistled. Evans’ patrol car was a mangled mess. How fast had he been going when he tried to drive down the thirty-foot incline?

I was abruptly spun around. “You got something to say to me, bitch? Say it,” Evans growled.

“Let go of my arm and back the hell up.”

“Okay.” Evans dropped my arm like I had the cooties and shoved me viciously.

The next thing I knew I was tumbling down the side of the gully. I slammed into a rock and lay there for a moment, waiting for everything to stop spinning. Once I got my breath back, I was going to kick his ass.

A gentle hand touched my face. “Anything feel broken?”

I opened my eyes. Two cute firemen were staring down at me. “Where is that bastard?” I gasped.

“Captain Smith and your deputy took him down,” the blond paramedic said, placing a cervical collar around my neck.

“Good.” I frowned. A skull was grinning at me. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

The blond paramedic placed a hand on my shoulder when I tried to sit up. “Take it easy. You had a nasty fall.”

I blinked when the Hispanic medic shined a penlight in my eyes. “Excellent. Your pupils are responsive.”

The skull leered at me.

“Okay, but do you see that?”

“See what?” The blond medic tilted my head up and examined my throbbing forehead.

I winced as he probed the wound. “Ouch.”

“Got a headache?” The Hispanic medic asked.

“Yeah, I do. I whacked my head on that boulder.”

The blond medic cleaned the wound on my forehead. “You’re going to need a stitch or two.”

“Seriously? Slap a bandage on it and I’m good. I don’t want to go to the hospital again.”

“Why not?” The Hispanic medic wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my left arm and pumped it.

“Let’s just say bad things happen at the hospital.”

The blond medic grinned. “You’re that deputy who is always on the news.”

“No, that’s Gemma. I’m just her sidekick.”

The Hispanic medic removed the blood pressure cuff. “Your blood pressure is a little elevated, but that’s to be expected.”

“Ya, think?

The blond medic placed a bandage on my cut. “Your lower lip will need to be stitched too.”

That explained the blood running down my chin. I glanced down. Damn. I had ruined another uniform shirt.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” the blond medic said as he carefully cleaned the blood off my face. “You’re gonna get a black eye too.”

“Julie!” Frank scrambled down the side of the gully. “How badly are you hurt?”

“I’ll live, but we’ve got a problem.” I pointed at the skull. “Tell me you see that.”

“What the hell?” Frank carefully brushed the dirt, and rocks away from the skull. “That’s a bullet hole in the cranium.”

The Hispanic medic nodded. “Yep, definitely a homicide.”

“Look,” the blond medic pointed. “There’s a femur and a rib under the car.”

“Sergeant Bergman’s not gonna be happy,” I sighed.

Frank keyed his radio mic. “George-20 we possibly have a 451 victim at our location.”

“Copy. I’m pulling up now. Radio start a homicide detective our way,” Sergeant Bergman instructed.

“Copy, George-20,” the dispatcher replied.

I frowned. “What did you do with Evans?”

“He’s hogtied in the back of my patrol car and Captain Smith is pressing charges too.”

My jaw dropped. “The idiot hit Captain Smith?”

“Broke his nose,” the blonde medic said.

I shook my head. “I still don’t understand why he attacked me.”

“He said you were an uppity female who didn’t know how to do her job, and you needed to be put down like a rabid dog,” the Hispanic medic stated.

“Shit! He was trying to kill me.”

Frank nodded. “Yep, and he drew his gun too.”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“That’s when Captain Smith knocked it out of his hand and Evans punched him in the face,” the blond medic added.

Was Evans having a mental breakdown? It sure sounded like it.

Captain Smith and Sergeant Bergman appeared at the top of the gully and grimly surveyed the crash site.

Yikes, Captain Smith’s uniform looked as bad as mine and he had a big bandage across his nose.

“Bring her up; the ambulance is here,” Captain Smith instructed.

“Really, I don’t need to go to the hospital,” I interjected.

Frank whispered, “Take a good look at the sarge’s face. Go to the hospital and get checked out.”

I glanced up. Shit! I had never seen Sergeant Bergman that angry before. “Okay, but I’m keeping my gun belt.”

“Evans isn’t in any position to hurt you again,” the Hispanic medic said.

I snorted. “Hospitals are dangerous places.”

“It’s okay.” Frank patted my shoulder. “You can keep your gun.”

The medics put me in a wire rescue basket and carried me up the incline. I felt like such a fraud. I could have walked. I had been hurt worse. Okay, I was still a little dizzy.

“Your family will meet you at the hospital.” Sergeant Bergman held out his hand. “I need your body camera.”

I disconnected it and gave it to him. “I bet Mom wasn’t happy. This is the second time in three weeks.”

A faint smile touched Sergeant Bergman’s mouth. “I assumed with Gemma gone, I would have some peace and quiet.”

Evans screamed, “You are all dead men. Do you hear me? Dead!”

“I don’t think any of us saw this coming, sir.” The paramedics moved me onto a gurney. “I’m pretty sure those remains belong to that woman who went missing a year ago. I think her name was Sarah West.”

“We’ll see.”

The medics wheeled me past Frank’s patrol car. “Let me out! I’ve done nothing wrong. My father is going to make you wish you had never been born.”

I shivered. He was truly mad.

“How did he ever pass his psych evaluations?” The blond medic muttered as he climbed into the ambulance with me.

“That is the million-dollar question.”

The medic’s mouth curved in an appealing smile. “Do you like Mexican food?”

“I do.”

“Once you’re released from the hospital, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

I stared at him in surprise. I was a bloody mess, and he wanted to date me? Why the hell not? Lucas had made his feelings quite clear. “I would like that, but I don’t even know your name.”

“Samuel Bradford, paramedic extraordinaire.”

“Julie Garza, slightly battered sheriff’s deputy.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Keep it PG, kids.” He shut the door, and the ambulance drove off with lights flashing and siren wailing.

“Are the sirens necessary? We’re out in the boonies and I’m not dying,”

“It’s the rules,” Samuel replied.

“We’ve got a bunch of those too.” I closed my eyes. Everything kept spinning.