Tom Turner was the next reserve officer to be ‘trained’ by me. We rode together peaceably until right after dark when Bobby Scruggs called to tell us about a report of a strange couple doing strange things on the northern edge of “T” Street Bridge beach. The call wasn’t uncommon, as people saw and reported weird stuff happening on the beach all the time. It was Tom’s handling of the radio traffic that set things off.

“Yellow,” Tom said into the handset he’d grabbed from the dash.

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