Delorez oscillated between a dream world and reality. Was she in the stake-out car, eating crappy snack foods, or was she harassing her new partner at the drug store with her gun stuck in his back? No, that had been a fantasy, because here she was in the car with balled up candy wrappers all over her lap. The over 100 degree temperature was giving her a migraine, so besides heat waves creating mirages and motion in front of her, a left-eye dead-spot aura spread , radiating spiky circles. Wow-inducing if she hadn’t minded the pain. Maybe she should take an ice-pick and do her right eye so they’d be even.
To hell with the stake-out and that lazy ass, wherever-the-hell-he-was partner, Miss D was going home. The police radio had been quiet for over an hour. She tried use it, but just got buzzing static. Enough. Playing the one-eye game, her left eye shut against the desert glare and her right eye squinting down the highway, she reversed out of the parking lot and veered down the highway. Her right hand steered while she pressed her left thumb onto the eyebrow of the pulsating eye and tried to massage the pain. The car hit a dip and her thumb slipped. Her red-lacquered nail slipped deeply into the socket. An ice pick hadn't been needed after all. The car fish-tailed and drove off into the desert sand as she fainted against the steering wheel and accidentally activated the siren.
Lavelle, exhausted from cooking spaghetti noodles while his wife talked and the kids grabbed at his legs (and his body itched and twitched for Isabel), walked out in the desert evening to get some air. Away in the distance, he heard the wail of a police siren. Maybe Delorez was coming after all! She always did like to make a dramatic entrance.
by CR
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