" Despatch to all units in vicinity of the Desert Fox Ranch , please respond to a reported 11-7 . 10-4"
Deputy Ray Thomson was busy finishing off his 10-100 and looking for some paper. Deputy Bobby McNally took the call and jogged into the rest room.
" Tommy. Quit Jerkin' off and haul ass. We gotta 11-7 up at the Ho House" McNally shouted through the door
" Prowler? Someone who likes ta watch just like you , ya hump! " growled Thomson.
" Bite me " responded McNally.
The cops slammed the door of the gas station on the way out. The Clerk , Harry Toscada , looked up and sneered " Nye County's finest prefer pussy to donuts shocker. Film at 11". He then returned his full attention to his well thumbed jazz mag.
The valley was bathed in blue/white light from a full moon.The Victoria shimmed a little on the approach to the Desert Fox and scrunched to a halt.
The building almost looked industral . It was low –rise and spread out into the surrounding desert. The shabby neon sign spelled " D-sert F-x".Out front was a short , balding man in a shiny jacket. The Deputies introduced themselves.
" Thank you for your rapid response . I'm Trey Manning . I manage this establishment . One of the girls saw a man outside of her window. Some kinda pervert wants it fer free. He took off when she screamed at him " the manager said ,in a high nasal tone.
" Thank you , Sir. Can you show me the window that the incident occurred at? " McNally was keen to bag this call. The lonely john was likely parked further up the valley and haulin ass for his car right about now.
The officers asked Mr Manning to wait for them in reception and swept the area outside the window. As if on cue a light breeze caused a Sage to whisk past.
" Just like the movies " said Thomson .
" Well , this one doesn't have a happy ending. At least not for mister lonely here " McNally was all business now. Thomson followed his flash to a well worn F150 Pickup. The Driver wasn't going anywhere. Ever.
" Oh Shit! " said Thomson " You know who that is? "
