*****
Henry Anderson watched through a pair of binoculars as the so-called ‘Fed’ un-cuffed his prisoner and let him out of the car. A few seconds later, a large Native American man joined them.
“Son of a bitch.” Henry muttered to himself. “Federal agent my ass.” He watched them converse for twenty minutes before nods and pats on the backs started. Then Bishop and Morris loaded up in the Sedan. The Native American popped a tire back on his truck and within five minutes, they were on the road headed back to Midland.
The Native American exited off the interstate right before getting back into town, so Henry decided to stick to the Sedan. Staying far enough behind not to be noticed but close enough to keep an eye on them, Henry followed them to a small dusty looking pawn shop on the east side of town.
Back on the hunt, are we? Henry thought to himself as he waited for a cup of coffee at the shop across the street. And who are you Mr. Morris? Who are you really?
Coffee in hand, Henry stepped outside. Making sure to stay well out of sight, he walked to a pay phone on the corner. Setting his coffee on top of the phone booth, he picked up the phone and put a quarter in. After a few rings their came an answer on the other end. “Hey Susie. It’s Henry.”
“Hey sugar!” She said, in her deep Texas accent. “You know Captain Holt is looking for you? You were supposed to check in earlier this afternoon.”
“Yeah Susie I know. Listen, I’m on a lead here but I need you to do me a favor. I need you to run a name for me.”
“You got it baby. What’s the name?”
“Ben Morris, possibly Benjamin. See if there’s any record of him working for the FBI.”
“Benjamin Morris . . .” she said, slowly as she scribbled it down. “F . . . B . . . I . . . Alright hon I’ve got it. Where can I send it?”
“I’ll call you here in a few hours Susie. Not sure where I’ll be.”
“What do you want me to tell Captain Holt?”
Tell him to kiss my ass! I’m doing real police work for a change. Henry wanted to yell into the phone. He took a deep breath then let it out slowly. “Tell him I’m on a lead and I’ll call him first thing in the morning.”
“Henry, you know he’s not going to like that. This isn’t Captain Barnes we’re talking about.”
“Yeah I know.” Henry sipped from his coffee. He’s not half the man that Barnes was. “Good ole Barnes. God rest his soul.” He glanced across the street to see Morris and Bishop loading two duffels and four rifle cases in the back seat of the sedan. “Listen Susie I’ve got to go. I’ll call you tonight.”
“You stay safe out there Henry Anderson.” Susie said, before hanging up.
I’ll try Susie girl. But I’ve got a feeling the shit is about to hit the fan and for some crazy reason I’m jumping right into its flight pattern. Henry grabbed up his cup of coffee and rushed back to his car.
Chronicles of the Vampire Hunters: Creation Page 8