Carlos put down his radio, left his car, and hiked back down to the border checkpoint. He saw Bowdre, alone now, standing beside the guard booth.
"What happened to the pooch?" Carlos wanted to know.
"He's in the kennel." Bowdre replied. "His shift's over. And by the way, he's my partner, not just a pooch."
She removed a package of JuicyFruit gum from the pocket on her windbreaker, unwrapped a stick, and popped it in her mouth.
Carlos's eyes lit up when he saw the package. He loved JuicyFruit. He held out a hand. "Can I have a piece, please?"
Bowdre gave him a stick, then shifted her quid of gum to her other cheek. "Let's wait in the breakroom." she suggested. "At least it's air-conditioned."
"Sure," Carlos agreed. He thought hopefully that maybe the ice had been broken and they could chat while their bosses sorted out the jurisdictional mess.
The breakroom wasn't much: a battered sofa, a small refrigerator, a microwave, coffee maker, a couple of tables, and a few hard plastic chairs. Bowdre sat on one and placed another on the opposite side of the table so she could prop up her legs. Carlos placed his chair a few feet from hers before he too sat down. He got up about five minutes later to spit out his gum in the trash.
After another half hour or so, Carlos's hopes of conversation were dashed. Bowdre hadn't said a word to him. She just sat with her arms crossed, still chewing hard on her gum, which Carlos was sure had lost its flavor by now. He wondered why she wouldn't talk to him. Was she shy or just plain antisocial? He cast around for something to say, just to break the silence.
"I wonder how much overtime we're getting paid for this." he mused aloud.
Bowdre chuckled darkly. "You think I get overtime?"
GGGGWWWWRRRRRRRRLLLLL!
Carlos, suddenly realizing how hungry he was, asked, "Is there a vending machine around here somewhere?"
"Yeah, just outside the door," said Bowdre.
"Thank God," sighed Carlos, getting to his feet.
He pulled some change out of his pocket and went into the hall. He scanned the vending machine's offerings carefully and soon spotted his favorite kind of chips: Lay's Sour Cream and Onion. Carlos fed the coins into the slot, then punched in "J4." Nothing happened. Carlos pressed the buttons again. Still, the machine did not release a bag of chips. Carlos smacked the side of the machine with his hand, but the chips stayed where they were. He checked over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming before he took his baton from his belt. Sure, it was a little extreme, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Carlos landed a solid blow to the side of the vending machine, which rattled it, but did not cause the chips to fall.
From behind him, there was a smothered snort of laughter. Carlos whipped around, baton still in hand, to find Bowdre leaning against the doorjamb of the breakroom. She shook her head, grinning.
"I may have to report you to your captain for police brutality," said Bowdre.
"The damn machine took my money!" Carlos said indignantly.
"That friggin' thing's been broken for over a year. Didn't you see the sign?"
Carlos examined the glass front of the machine more closely. Sure enough, on a sheet of printer paper, was a hand-lettered notice reading: OUT OF SERVICE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.
"Oh," he said, now feeling rather stupid. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "Guess this isn't my day, huh?"
"If it is your day, I'd hate to see a bad one," Bowdre replied.
Carlos stuck his baton back in his belt and returned to the breakroom.
Gggwwwwwrrrrrrrrllllll!
His stomach started to complain again. He leaned back and did his best to ignore it, even as the growling increased in volume and frequency.
GGGGWWWWWRRRRL! RRRRRWWWWWLLLLLLL! GRRrrrWWWWLLLLLL!
By now, Carlos was sorely tempted to grab his stomach and scream "Shut up!" at it like the people in the Burger King commercials. Of course, that wouldn't do any good, but that was about the only option he had at this point, other than perhaps sampling the sofa cushions or his clothing.
Across from him, Bowdre was impatiently drumming her fingers against the tabletop. "What could possibly be taking this long?" she asked. "I'd really like to go home sometime tonight."
"Trust me, so would I," said Carlos.
"It's a very simple matter: Fed trumps local, case closed. Not to mention that my shift is technically over, and I'm starving."
"Me too," Carlos agreed.
The appearance of a stern-looking man in his late forties put an abrupt end to their discussion. Bowdre leapt out of her chair and stood up very straight.
"Lieutenant Burns," she acknowledged.
"Bowdre, it'll be a while before Captain Donaldson and I can come to an agreement about this prisoner." Burns began.
"I understand, sir," she said.
"You and Officer Sandoval are free to go out and grab a bite to eat, but I expect to see you two back here in 90 minutes. Do you understand?"
Bowdre nodded. "Yes, sir. And speaking for both Officer Sandoval and myself, I appreciate this gesture."
Lieutenant Burns tossed a set of keys their way. Carlos tried to catch them, but Bowdre was quick to snatch them out of his reach.
"Sorry, Sandy," she teased, "but this is a federal vehicle. You're not insured to drive it."
Honestly, Carlos wouldn't have cared if he had to walk behind the car as long as he got to a restaurant. He obediently climbed into the passenger seat of the Border Patrol SUV. Bowdre turned the key in the ignition and they were off.