“Great. What’s your portable there, Detective?” The dispatcher was downright conversational as she asked for the item number of the hand-held radio she expected Mike would have.
“I don’t have one, Dispatch. I’ll give you a call on my cell once I get up to the apartment if anything changes.”
“Please stand by until the other unit arrives, Detective,” the dispatcher advised. Her cautionary tone reminded Mike of Rose, one of the best dispatchers he had ever known. She always looked out for her officers, on and off the air. He often wondered what happened to her. He hadn’t heard her voice since that day. The day of Sal’s funeral.
He had to admit that most of the dispatchers were pretty good. It was the poor ones who really stood out. They could cause a world of difficulty for the road sergea
