Southern Cross
“Steam billowed from the Fort James Paper Company, and the river was soft music played with fingers of wind and bright notes of sun.
The portable radio on Brazil’s belt was a staccato of dispatchers and cops cutting in and out in spurts and codes. Nothing was going on. A handicap van was abandoned on a roadside, traffic was tied up because a light wouldn’t flash, a driver had been stopped at a Kmart.
Unit numbers and military time peppered the air, but Passman and Rhoad were strangely si...lent. Passman dispatched no calls. Rhoad answered no one. Brazil was furious. He was certain the cops were messing with him.
“Eleven,” Brazil tried again.
“Go ahead, 11,” answered a communications officer whose name Brazil did not know.
“Radio, I’m still at the cemetery,” Brazil said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “Need someone to 10-25 me right away.”MoreLess
The portable radio on Brazil’s belt was a staccato of dispatchers and cops cutting in and out in spurts and codes. Nothing was going on. A handicap van was abandoned on a roadside, traffic was tied up because a light wouldn’t flash, a driver had been stopped at a Kmart.
Unit numbers and military time peppered the air, but Passman and Rhoad were strangely si...lent. Passman dispatched no calls. Rhoad answered no one. Brazil was furious. He was certain the cops were messing with him.
“Eleven,” Brazil tried again.
“Go ahead, 11,” answered a communications officer whose name Brazil did not know.
“Radio, I’m still at the cemetery,” Brazil said, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “Need someone to 10-25 me right away.”MoreLess
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