One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 18, page 5

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Lawperson Séara Nulıpésha simmered as she drove back to the precinct headquarters. She wanted to do the best job she could to help catch the murderer, but Vomıvé refused her assistance. The constabulary radio overflowed with information of the search, how they were looking under every boulder and inside every cluster of bushes for any sign of the suspects, but nobody had found a Ahísıhíta-damned thing so far. The desert was just too big and the search party was just too small.

She pulled into the precinct parking lot, slowing just enough to let a pair of scavenging reporters get out of her way. It wasn’t until after she passed through the gate into the back lot that she realized that Tamé had disappeared.

Séara parked her cruiser and got out, slamming the door. She couldn’t call him; he didn’t have a radio in his truck. “He was right behind me,” she muttered. “What could’ve happened to him?”

Crossing her arms, she stared at the chainlink gate.

She should have been paying better attention to the tow-truck driver. Vomıvé had been explicit in directing Séara to keep an eye on Tamé, and she’d blown it. How was that for doing the best job she could?

The seconds stretched into minutes.

Séara grimaced. She’d have to go looking for him.

She threw open the cruiser door, plopped inside, and yanked the door shut. Just as she started the engine, the front end of Tamé’s tow truck appeared on the other side of the gate.

Séara took a relaxing deep breath and turned off the auto’s engine. She’d have to chew out Tamé, but at least no one would be chewing her out.

As Tamé guided the suspects’ brown sedan into a parking stall, Séara marched to the building entrance.

A thought crossed her mind. Since she was here, perhaps she could go check on Emperor Bhanar, to see how he was doing. Pí‘oro’s death had hit him hard, too, she could tell. Maybe she could talk to him for a bit, get him to let his feelings out. Being stuck in a cell all night by himself with no one to talk to must have been torture for the young man.

At the building doors, Séara paused and turned back. Tamé was out of his truck, lowering the automobile to the pavement.

Séara called out to him, in her most authoritative voice, “You’d better come inside, Tamé.”

The middle-aged man waved a hand at her, glancing over his shoulder.

Séara spun on her heel and went in. Behind the desk across the small lobby, Lawman Laparıpasamé glanced up and said, “Hi, Séara. How’s it going out there?”

She could hear the same staticky voices of the constabulary radio as she’d been listening to in the auto. Tépíto had it on, at the desk.

“You know as much as I do, from the radio.” Séara crossed the lobby and leaned on the chest-high desk. She meant to ask about the status of Bhanar, but a different question crossed her lips first. “What are you doing manning the back desk?”

The dark-haired lawman shrugged. “Zhulızho has his hands full with the reporters at the front, so he asked me to cover for him.”

While Tépíto spoke, the tone of the radio reports grew more urgent. The two lawpersons stopped to listen.

“. . . taking ‘no’ for an answer. Should I apprehend?”

“Negative, lawman. Control her by other means.”

“--get some help here?”

“Group five, going to assist--”

“--three, going to assist home base.”

Tamé burst into the lobby, the metal door rebounding off the doorstop. “I’ve delivered the Sonla and still have to go back for the other two.” He removed his green ball cap and scratched his scalp, glaring at Séara. “What do--”

“Shhh!” Séara waved her hand for him to shut up.

On the radio, a lawman was saying, “--down, Irézí, just calm down. You’ll get your story--”

“Oh,” said Tépíto, straightening up.

Séara turned her thoughts away from the radio, as well. It was just that stupid television reporter, Irézí what’s-her-name, causing trouble.

Séara stuck out her chin at Tamé. “What happened? Did you stop at the pub for another drink? You were supposed to stay right behind me.”

The tow-truck driver scowled, shaking his head. “What in Pétíso’s hells are you talking about? You ditched me back there! How am I supposed to keep up with you when I’m towing a fifteen-hundred-kilogram automobile and you’ve got the pedal floored on your souped-up cruiser?” Tamé huffed and rolled his eyes.

Séara didn’t think she’d been going that fast, but she had to admit she hadn’t been paying attention to her speed.

“Fine, whatever.” She took a step back and gestured at the desk. “Just fill out your paperwork and keep working.”

Tamé shot her a dirty look as he approached the desk.

Tépíto started digging around for the appropriate forms. “Um. . . Hold on a second.”

Séara couldn’t help him any, since she’d never worked the desk--too much responsibility to give to little Séara--which meant this was her chance to check on Bhanar.

“Can you buzz me through, Tépíto?” she asked, jabbing a thumb at the locked door to the rest of the building.

“Sure,” the lawman replied and absentmindedly pushed the door-release button.

The lock buzzed and Séara pulled it open, heading in search of the only other person around who had cared about her old friend’s death.

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