Bang Switch (Code 11-KPD SWAT 3)

We came up on a large rise with a small embankment on it, and I was surprised to find a large creek running like a small lazy river.

“Wow,” I said in surprise. “I didn’t realize you had a creek on your property.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. I think there must be a beaver or something up stream that stops it from flowing all that well. The last time I was here it was nothing more than a trickle. The water goes all the way down to the Sabine River, which is about six miles that way,” he pointed with his fingers to the horizon. “As the crow flies.”

“You should go searching to see if there really is a beaver dam. Then blow the fucker to smithereens,” I hesitated. “The dam…not the beaver.”

He tossed me a grin. “If I don’t off the beaver, there’ll just be another dam in a few weeks’ time.”

I shrugged. “I suppose you could do whatever you wanted to do. But just make sure I don’t see you kill the damn beaver.”

He chuckled and continued to walk, grabbing my hand as we went.

He helped me over numerous downed logs, trees, and generally rough ground. However not one time did we see any breaks in the fence, nor any tracks.

“Whose property is that?” I asked, indicating the fence that looked different from the rest.

“Prescott’s land. He’s surrounded his entire property with that frou-frou shit. It had to have cost him a fuckin’ fortune.” He shook his head.

I bet.

The whole thing was made of steel, and there was an intricate interwoven design at the top that spelled out the name ‘Prescott’ every three feet or so.

“The man obviously has too much money. How many acres does this span?” I asked in awe.

Seriously, this fence had to have cost a freakin’ fortune!

“He owns all the property from where the fence starts, all the way down my property line. His land butts up to the highway on the North side,” he explained.

As I envisioned this, I couldn’t hold back the awe. “Wow, that’s a lot of land.”

He nodded and we turned the final corner that led us along the fence that lined the highway.

“It is. I’m still unclear how this land got separated from the break up between my mother and Prescott. But, I guess, I should just be thankful that I have it,” Downy muttered darkly.

He sounded bitter, and I really didn’t blame him.

There had to be more to the story than what he was told, and I’m sure it was his pride that held him back from asking either his mom or Prescott himself.

Whatever the case, I didn’t bring it up again that day, and I’d be regretting not pressing the issue when I had the chance.

Especially since the night we got home from his place, he completely locked me out of not only his thoughts, but from his sight as well.

It’d be another three days before I heard from him again.Chapter 13You can suck it. Your fuckin’ mom can suck it, too.

-Memphis, to the officer that pulled a douche move and gave her a ticket for no freakin’ reason.

Memphis

“So you’re telling me that a police officer can pull me over for going a single mile an hour over the speed limit?” I asked. “Seems to me to be kind of a dickish move.”

Chief Rhodes’ eyes sparkled with mirth. “It’s up to the discretion of the police officer. However, most officers don’t give tickets for going one mile an hour over. It’s too hard to uphold in court. There are too many things that could go wrong. We have to have a certain leeway for our machine’s calibration, as well as your speedometer.”

I glared at him, waving the paper ticket in his face. “It clearly says thirty one miles an hour in a thirty. He didn’t say a word about any stinkin’ calibration of machines.”

Chief Rhodes grimaced. “It really is up to their discretion. You can take it to court, though, and get it knocked off.”

“I’m not taking shit to court. I’m just going to make that kid’s life a living hell,” I growled, glaring at the chief.

“What’s this officer’s name?” The chief, I could tell, was trying his best not laugh. He looked like he was appeasing me. Stalling or something.

I pulled out my phone and practically shoved it in his face. “And aren’t they supposed to have their hat on or something?”

“That’s a state trooper,” Downy’s amused voice came from behind me.

I whirled around and pinned him with a look that could strip paint. “And you…I’m not talking to you!”

I highlighted that point by taking three long steps toward him and poking him in the chest.

His brows rose.

“Why?” He asked in amusement.

I didn’t bother telling him why. If I had to tell him, then he wouldn’t understand.

It would also totally defeat the purpose of the silent treatment I was about to give him.

I walked away from them both, ignoring both of the men’s confused faces.

I was really, really mad.

On my way to school, I’d gone past the police station to see if Downy was there.

He had been, but as I’d been about to turn into the parking lot, I’d seen him walking someone into the back door.

The person he’d been escorting had been handcuffed at the time, so I was fairly sure he was busy unless that was just a new game he liked to play with his friends.

So I’d continued on, only to get pulled over a half mile from school, by an officer saying that I was ‘speeding,’ when I wasn’t. He said I’d been going one mile over, and I said that I wasn’t.

He gave me a ticket anyway, and I called him an asshole.

Then I’d had to come to class to, not only listen to a lecture about cop ethics, but also to see the very same fucker who’d given me the ticket talking about his job as a patrolman, and how his day had been ‘fun.’

And fuck me, but I’d had to leave. I couldn’t handle seeing his ugly, snotty face any longer.