(Although they are not used everywhere in American law enforcement, the 10 code system is the most widely used police shorthand. When an officer announces "10-8, 10-41", he is announcing he is in service and beginning his patrol shift. He may call 10-7, out of service, for administrative reasons and will call 10-8, back in service when he's again available for assignment. The final call of the shift is 10-7, 10-42. This signifies the officer is out of service and has ended his patrol shift. In other words, "Don't call me, I'm going home." This combination announcement is also made at one other police function... )
Inspector Pat Gibson, Jackson County Sheriff's Department, Retired, curled her feet under her and rested her head on her husband's chest. She sighed comfortably.
"What is it sweetheart?" asked Inspector Mike Gibson, Retired. He carefully placed his arm around his wife of 50 years. She felt so brittle and so light, her body wasting away from her long struggle with cancer. He kissed the top of her head, disturbing her snow white hair.
"Just thinking," she answered, She slid one arm under him, the other around him and laced her fingers. She listened to the steady rhythm of the pacemaker he had been given after his second heart attack. His chest was no longer the six pack of muscles and his arm was thin now, but his closeness still thrilled her.
"About all this," Pat indicated with a movement of her head.
Mike looked around and smiled. "It is quite a gathering isn't it?" The broad back yard of their house was covered in people of all ages. Two grills smoked with hamburgers and hotdogs. Metal washtubs full of ice and sodas were being constantly restocked. Kids played games, adults talked and a radio carried the music appropriate to their annual 4th of July party throughout the gathering.
"Children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Something that at one time I never even dreamed of having. And a husband who's as handsome today as he was that day I first met him so many years ago." Pat tipped her head and accepted a kiss from Mike. "Thank goodness Bob DuPree was running radar on Highway 143 that day.
Pat felt more than heard the sigh from Mike. "Honey, for forty years we've been over this. I know he was your best friend. But we got up those stairs as fast as we could." She looked at him and then continued. "Only one thing could have changed that day. But he wouldn't have been the man he was if he hadn't gone out in that parking lot that day."...
... Gunfire echoed through the area. Screams and cries were not confined to the open air. Captain Mike Gibson tried to make sense of the noise and conflicting reports coming over the radio mounted in their big SUV. He cursed, something he didn't often do and looked at his wife, who was sitting in the passenger's seat, talking on the cell phone. "What the hell is going on?" He demanded.
"Sniper in the city hall tower," Lieutenant Pat Gibson answered. "We have at least five people down. Bob Dupree and his partner are arriving now. More backup is on the way, but its going to be 10 minutes at least."
Mike looked in the mirrors and spun the big vehicle to the left. "We can be there in three."
"Take Lavoir Street, it'll bring us up to the back and the rear set of the building should shield us," Pat advised.
They roared to a stop behind the target building. They both leaped from the vehicle. Mike pulled off his coat and tie. As Pat raced to the back of the Ford, Mike looked in the back two seats at the rest of the family. "Carol, when we go in, back up into that parking garage. You'll be safe there. Stephanie, you and Mikie look after the twins."
"Yes sir," came the chorus from their children.
Mike sprinted to the rear of the vehicle. Pat already had the back opened and the gear they kept at hand pulled out. She tightened her vest, strapped her equipment belt around her waist and chambered a round in her Glock. As Mike pulled his gear on she loaded his Smith and Wesson and handed it carefully to him. They turned their radios on and donned the brown jackets marked "Sheriff". Mike ran for the building's back door, fishing a key out.
Pat started to close the door. She stopped, pulled off her shoes and threw them in before slamming the door. She chased Mike towards the building, running in her stocking feet. "I swear I am never going to wear heels again in my life, whether we're going to church and dinner out after or not. And I look ridiculous in this getup over a dress."
The two of them stormed up the service stairs to the main floor. Pat pointed right and they rushed up towards the fourth floor and the ladder to the tower. Mike was on the radio, demanding silence from everyone except the officers on the scene. "Talk to me Bob, tell me what's going on. Can you pinpoint his location in the tower?"
"Mike, he's on the north side. Be careful, when you come through that door he'll be right on your left hand." There was a woman's scream on the radio. "What's that lady?" they heard. "Oh My God. Danny, hold her here. Oh Shit, there's a little girl out there, Mike. I'm going after her."
"No," Mike called on the radio. "Hold your position."
The two officers heard the fatal moments over their radios as they charged up the stairway. Bob's twisting and turning made the first shot miss. Danny's covering gunfire caused the gunman to duck for a moment. When Danny reloaded, the man popped back up just as Bob caught the little girl up and ran for cover. Bob managed to shield the girl with his own body. Two high powered rifle bullets tore through him, penetrating the vest they were never intended to stop. In one last heave Bob managed to throw the child to cover before he fell lifeless to the pavement.
Screaming with rage Mike hit the wooden door at the top of the steps. Barricaded or not, the door offered little resistance to the infuriated former marine. He shook his head to clear it from the impact and swung his weapon to cover the man he saw.
Pat took an extra moment to come through the door, avoiding the wood splinters with her bare feet. She came in low since Mike had come in high. She called an order to the gunman. "Drop your weapon, NOW!" The man snarled and spun, the rifle barrel swinging towards them. Each officer fired twice, the classic "double tap" of their training. Hit four times, the gunman collapsed.
When the cleanup was finished, there were two dead civilians, three wounded ones and a badge to be retired. Bob Dupree received the highest award the department had to bestow, and Mike had lost his best friend...
... Behind his glasses Mike's eyes wandered over the extended family. He smiled, remembering their friend, when his gaze landed on Lt Colonel (Retired) Bob Gibson, USMC. He felt Pat smiling. "I know who you're looking at," she teased him.
"Yes, well, when our youngest is old enough to be retired, I begin to think we're not as young as we think we are. And I bet, since we're looking at our children, I know whom you're looking at."
"Just Carol," Pat nodded towards Deputy Inspector Carol Gibson Wilson. "If I look too hard at Stephanie she thinks I need a pill or an exam."
"She's a good doctor, honey." Mike paused and admitted, "If a little over protective now that her parents are her only patients. And Carol, my gosh. All she wanted from the time we married was to be a law enforcement officer, like her mother."
Pat smiled. "Everyone has those special moments in their lives. I have been blessed with so many. The day I realized you were in love with me, the day we married. The days each of our children was born. And by no means the least, the day Carol and Stephanie called me 'Mother'." She laughed. "But having both parents as white shirt officers on the department didn't always make things easy for her...
... The man and the woman had the car rocking. He was stretched out as best he could along the front seat, his head propped on the door's arm rest. His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing his chest and his jeans were open. The woman was crouched over him, her smaller body in the 69 position. She was nude from the waist down. Her blouse was open and her bra pushed up to expose her breasts.
Because of the tight fit the woman's knees were bent and her toes pressed along the glass of the driver's side door. The man's head was tipped up between her spread legs. His tongue was rapidly flicking over and between her puffy lips. His hands grasped her hips, his fingers curled onto the swelling of her ass. He pulled her down onto his stabbing tongue as it dipped inside her and she groaned.
Her head bobbed up and down as she slid her lips over his erect cock. She paused at the top of each stroke to swirl her tongue over the mushroom head like she was licking an ice cream cone. Then she plunged back down over the shaft until her chin mashed against his groin. Both of them uttered wordless moans, encouraging each to further pleasure their partner.
The black and white cruised slowly down the road. The two officers in it peered out at the passing bushes. The area was one of new residential construction and there had been a number of complaints about theft and vandalism. The night's briefing had reminded them to be sure to make frequent checks and run off any trespassers.
"There's a car over there in that little access road," Deputy Carol Gibson said.
"I see it," Deputy Roger Wilson commented. He reached for the radio. "Do you want me to call it in?"
"I can't see the tag." She shifted the cruiser into park and reached for her flashlight.
.... There is more of this story ...