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kind who prided himself on being able to handle things without getting Red involved. |
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The heavyset deputy with his open, preposterously round face, stood in front of him, furrowing the toe of his boot back and forth in the sand. It was one of the few things Red Gleason didn't like about his long-time deputy; he had to pry the problem out of him. The alternative was simple enough; wait until Merle decided to talk about it. Then it was often too late. Carlos, on the other hand, was just the opposite of the hard-working Chesterton. Though gregarious to a fault and a big hit with the tourists, Gleason usually had to prod the youngster to do the bare essentials of his job. |
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Carlos slipped into what little shade Gleason's cruiser afforded the trio, took off his hat and mopped his forehead. Gleason knew the men were exhausted. All of them had been on duty around the clock since the waters had receded enough to allow the first search teams to begin the salvage operations. As soon as Bart Miller showed up, Red was planning to begin a rotation that would give his men some much needed relief. |
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"You been out to this part of the island?" Carlos asked lazily. |
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Gleason shook his head. "Naw, haven't had the chance. Didn't figure I'd have to. The Gull House always seems to make it through these |
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