Dawn Patrol

51

“My God,” she says, “what happened?”

Blood drips from the corner of his mouth and from his nose, and he looks like he's been rolled in the dirt.

“You're supposed to be watching the motel,” he says.

“I was concerned about you,” she replies. “Apparently for good reason. Where did you get a shotgun?”

“Someone gave it to me.”

“Voluntarily?”

“Sort of.”

He walks back up the road to the motel.

Teddy's car is still there.

“Did you find Teddy?” Petra asks.

“No,” he says.

“We should get you to a hospital.”

“Not necessary.”

He opens the side door of the van and digs around until he finds a small first-aid kit. He gets into the front seat, twists the rearview mirror, and looks into it as he cleans the cuts and scratches on his face, swabbing them with pads and then rubbing in antiseptic. Then he places a Band-Aid on the cut over his left eye.

“Can I help?” Petra says.

“I asked you for help,” Boone says. “You were supposed to be watching the motel.”

“I already apologized for that.”

He finishes applying the Band-Aid, then grabs a vial of pills, shakes one out, and swallows it.

“What-”

“Vicodin,” he says. “Karate candy. I didn't find Teddy or Tammy. All I found was a mojado camp.”

“A…”

“Mojados,”Boone repeats. “‘Wetbacks.’ Illegals. They work the fields; some of them live in camps. Usually, the camps are tucked up in the canyons; this one was in the reeds along the river. I wasn't exactly welcome.”

But it's weird, he thinks, that the mojados were so aggressive. Usually, they'll do anything to avoid attention. The last thing in the world they want is trouble, and beating up a white guy is definitely trouble.

Boone leans forward and rubs the back of his neck, annoyed at the ache but grateful that the shotgun hadn't snapped a vertebra.

And what was Teddy doing in there? Boone asks himself. There aren't a lot of cosmetic surgery candidates in the mojado camps, not any that could afford Teddy anyway. And why did Teddy apparently get a pass while I got a shotgun butt to the neck? Or maybe Teddy didn't get a free ticket; maybe he's lying in a heap somewhere. Maybe worse. But what the hell was Teddy doing there in the first place?

Well, the only thing to do is wait and ask him. Boone grabs a beanie from the back and pulls it over his head. Then he slides down in his seat, rests his neck against the back of it, and closes his eyes.

“What are you doing?” Petra asks.

“Grabbing a few z's,” he says, “until Teddy gets back from doing whatever he's doing.”

“But what if you fall asleep?”

“I am going to fall asleep,” Boone says. “That's the idea.”

Besides, it's Rule number four.

These are Boone's four basic rules about stakeouts: