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It Dawned on Me. Kellse T. Then she began yelling into her phone. The shrieks followed us as we fell back, or retreated. We were completely turned around. I felt an overwhelming fear of annihilation; of being wiped gone by some natural and inevitable correction, like fever. I almost walked away right there, on principle, and was saved from good intentions by the sight of my truck in the distance. I managed to shut the cab door before completely losing it. Fuck your hat, Dodson. Fuck you, Que.
I was alone. I wrenched off the gear and threw it wherever. I was done chasing our skip. He could stay free for all I cared. Fuck all this shit. I burned through three or four cigarettes and drove off with a holstered firearm digging into my gut. There's no Employee Orientation Seminar in bounty hunting.
Just get a license and figure out the rest. That's how I started my very first day on the job.
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His name was Dave. Poor folks and minorities were hard to read but always knew what was up. Often, middle-class white men over 40 were creepily deferential and uncomfortably chummy but rarely provided any useful information. Low-wage employees, however, they were reliably helpful. I could always see the gears working. Is this graveyard shift about to get weird? They responded well to professionalism.
But Que kept getting tips from his CIs, reported sightings. One night we converged on a motel where the clerk had made a positive ID. None of the names on the guest list matched, but we were given permission to go room-to-room. It was well past 11 p.