Off the Grid

Betty Farqa was the surveillance officer tasked with following Neil into the woods. Neil had stunned the team when he sped out of the parking lot after leaving his work. He wasn’t expected to leave until four in the afternoon when his dayshift was over. The team had settled in, with one member covering the lot, another two covering east and west of the employee parking lot and the last officer covering the exit to call out to the team which way Neil went when he did leave work. Which was supposed to be after four. When he was scheduled to be done work.

They were teasing each other over the radio on their own encrypted frequency, exaggerating each other’s shortcomings and generally entertaining each other knowing much of surveillance was actually sitting there, doing nothing for hours, waiting and being ready for when something did happen. Betty was covering the east side, reading a book about ultra-marathons thinking how crazy those people were while at the same time wondering if she could do it when she heard Ayed say, “He’s out. He’s moving. He’s getting in his car.” Ayed was in the lot, keeping an eye on the door and Neil’s car. He was the junior guy so he got the most uncomfortable assignment. Sprawled out in the back seat of his car, he had his eyes just high enough to see Neil’s car and the door without creating a shadow through the tinted windows of his car.

Betty was behind Neil when he slowed and pulled off the road to park in an area meant for trail riders and hikers to get ready for whatever activity they were doing that day. She called it out and kept going, driving past Neil. She scooted onto a side road and making sure to be out of sight of the main road, she pulled over and listened.

Betty sighed. This was a junior guy assignment but Cheryl was right. She did have her gear here. It was in the backseat because when the assignment was done, she wanted to hike the trails around here and Cheryl knew that because she had mentioned it to her, hoping she’d want to come along.

Betty parked her ride a car space away from Neil’s. She tossed her portable radio into her backpack and making sure her firearm was secured in the lockbox under her seat, she stepped out of the car and shrugged on her backpack. She opened the back door and kicked off her boots and put on her Hoka One trail runners. She put on a ball cap and shades. She closed and locked her car and after moving hanging branches aside, found herself on a well-worn trail. Tree roots, thicker than her forearm, were like wooden snakes along the trail. Sunlight filtering through the trees wasn’t as bright and she noticed a temperature change once underneath the canopy of trees. It was much cooler. Nice. Moving forward on the trail, she saw no sign of Neil. Not that she was a tracker of any kind. She was a city girl who liked long hikes or runs through nature. She wouldn’t want to live in or near nature though. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to sleep without hearing cars honking and people chatting outside her window late at night. No Neil though and, no hope of finding him out here. Not in a place he was familiar with and grew up in. She called Cheryl, the team leader. Bryce, the other team leader, was busy trying to find Ray. He hadn’t advertised he had lost Ray from when he had left the police station after his interview so no one knew that Ray was out there and on the loose.

So she waited. In the car. In the heat. Like a damn rookie. She heard from the team on her radio that shots had been fired at the detective who had been shot at last night.

Stunned, she blurted, “Again?” Most cops went their whole careers without being shot at or having to shoot at anyone. Getting shot at twice in less than twenty-four hours was a big deal. They were discussing the incredibility of it when Betty heard the distant whine of a motorcycle. It wasn’t the deep rumbling of a Harley or a Honda large engine cruising bike. She thought she heard the high pitched whine of a racing bike. It wasn’t so unusual to hear but it did draw her attention to the roadway. She saw a Toyota Camry zip by with two occupants in the front. The windows were open and a flash of blonde hair fluttered around the window frame. Behind it came a motorbike. A dirt bike actually. It was making that high pitched whine, making Betty think it was going faster than it should be going. An older man rode it, with no helmet, looking really, really pissed. What surprised the shit out of Betty, because it wasn’t something anyone would normally see any day, was the shotgun strapped across the back of the angry, dirt-bike driving man.