For a moment he debated calling the emergency number—this was an emergency, damn it. His Matty was out there suffering. But the average citizen didn’t call 911 and ask to speak to a particular officer. He dialed the number listed in the phone book for the dispatch, and almost dropped the phone when it was answered halfway through the first ring. Despite that efficiency, the bored female voice on the other end sounded anything but. “Richmond City Police.”
Vic switched the phone to his other ear. “Officer Jones,” he said. Then, realizing they probably had quite a roster of officers with that last name, he added, “Kendra Jones.”
If the dispatcher heard the anxiety in Vic’s voice, she didn’t pick up on it. Instead her lazy Southern drawl made him want to scream in frustration when she told
