![]() He ran the flashlight beam along the fence line. He hated the graveyard shift almost as much as he hated winter. His boots crunched through snow as he made his way to the bar ditch, his breaths puffing out in front of him. It was so cold he could feel his nose hairs freezing. ![]() Yanking the zipper of his coat up to his chin, he slid his flashlight from its nest beside the seat and got out of the cruiser. ![]() "Let me know if you need backup." She snickered. "I'll set up some flares then go drag his Amish ass out of bed." He thought of all the paperwork an accident would entail and shook his head. ![]() If someone came around the curve too fast it could be bad. Livestock on the road at this hour was an accident waiting to happen. "Don't tempt me." Looking around, he sighed. "Well, I'm not going to stand out here in the frickin' cold and round up these stupid shits." "So what are you going to do? He ain't got no phone out there."Ī glance at the clock on the dash told him it was nearly two A.M. "What's up, T.J.?" asked Mona, the night dispatcher. Besides chickens, they had to be the dumbest animals on earth. Twenty yards away, six Jersey cows stood in the bar ditch, chewing their cud. ![]() Banks pulled the car onto the shoulder and flipped on the spotlight, running the beam along the edge of the field where corn stalks shivered in the cold. The cruiser's strobes cast red and blue light onto winter dead trees. ![]()
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