The Bus II: Routine Calls
The trouble with loops is noticing you’re in one.
(👉Missed the bus the first time? Read part 1 of The Bus https://rowanmercer.substack.com/p/the-bus )
Sherry threw her bag on the desk and slumped into her chair. It was a desk-work kind of day, and that was fine with her. Five hours of sleep, four cups of coffee, and she still felt like mud.
“I’m dragging,” she mumbled, setting her sidearm in the drawer and locking it with a quick click of the key.
She glanced over the top of her monitor. Cole was already hard at work.
“And good morning to you, too, Detective,” he said without looking up. “Late night?”
Sherry shook her head. “Nope. Hot flashes.”
Cole grimaced, swiveling to face her. “My mom talked about that stuff a lot. She took some kind of herb pill to make it stop.”
“Fantastic.” She opened her email, then waved a notebook in his direction. “Did you call any of these people back?”
“Not yet.”
“You want me to ask my mom what she took?”
Sherry squinted at him. “For what?”
“The hot spells- whatever kept you up last night?”
“No, but thank you for the offer.” She sighed. “It won’t make a difference. I’m past the point of no return.”
Cole grinned, turning back in his chair toward his computer screen. He was told when he started there that Sherry could be difficult. But he admired her, tremendously.
“Well, everyone knows that!”
The deep, booming voice of their Lieutenant entered the room before he did, as was always the case.
“Mornin’ Ellis,” Sherry said. Shuffling a stack of papers, she tossed one hand over the back of her head and gave a quick wave.
“Good morning, Lieutenant March,” Cole said, standing quickly from his chair-force of habit. The Marines could do that to you.
March waved his newspaper dismissively at Cole. “That’s fine, Baird. Good morning- you can sit back down.”
Cole flashed a sheepish grin, returning to his chair. “Thanks,” he mumbled.
“So,” March began, settling into his space. “What have you two got going on today?”
“Calls,” Sherry responded, still staring at her screen. “Lots of calls. Which we will get to once we’ve- ” She paused. “Oh, come on!”
Cole sat up, peering over his computer screen. “Are you hot again?”
March shot a confused look at Cole, then back to Sherry. “You ok, Detective?”
Sherry rolled her eyes. “Yes, sorry. I sent- well, I thought I sent an email to Dennis in HR, but apparently not.”
March nodded. “What’s this business that Cole just asked about you being- hot?”
Cole cringed, his face flushed. “Sorry, sir- um, and ma’am. Dumb joke. Disregard.”
March looked over at Sherry, then back to Cole. “Ok, well, let’s start with who is calling who, about what.”
“Yessir,” Cole said, giving March a quick nod. “So far, I have three calls from the lady, um, Mrs. Clark, who would like us to investigate the tax assessor, one about a car parking in front of a driveway, and several about kids using the stairs at the courthouse as a skate park.”
“That sounds like a good couple of hours,” March said. “I’ll take the Clark call. And Sherry?”
“Right,” Sherry replied, spinning to face March. “I have one call from a woman who thinks her neighbor has cameras pointed at her house, and several calls from different people about a school bus.”
“That’ll be interesting,” March added. “Don’t forget to add these calls to our call log.”
“Always do,” Cole said.
Sherry nodded in response.
“Sherry.” March’s face worked into something like a father calling out a child for not washing the dishes. “I mean the one we keep on the computer.”
“Heard,” Sherry said, sighing. “It’s just, the paper log is so much more- ”
“Sherry.” March used that father tone again.
“Yep- yes, I understand.” She replied, her own tone reluctant. In these moments, seniority was on her side. No rookie would have gotten away with flat-out insubordination, and she knew Cole was watching, keeping tabs, striving to meet the job where it was. March had reminded her of that, of her responsibility to model the right thing for the new officers. Hell, Cole had reminded her of that every time he blinked those big, brown, doe eyes at her, waiting and watching for her next move.
She shifted her seat back to the computer, grabbed her headset from the desk, and opened the computer call log, dialing the first person on the list.
By the time she’d gotten the first call out of the way and logged each tiny piece of pertinent info, she opted for more coffee. Topping off her cup in the kitchenette, she checked her cell phone. No calls. Amen to that.
When she came back, Cole was loading body-cam clips into the database. It was Sherry’s least favorite task, but as a new cop, Cole loved it, like he was watching an episode of some reality show, starring them.
“Armchair quarterback?” Sherry said, wandering over to Cole’s side of the station.
Cole paused the video he’d been watching. Traffic stop. Nothing exciting so far.
“What?” He looked up at her, confused.
“It’s a phrase,” she said, her own confusion showing on her face. “You use it when someone is watching something happen and has other ideas.”
Cole blinked.
“You really don’t know that phrase?” Sherry smirked.
Cole shrugged. “Guess not. But it’s close to backseat driving, right?”
Sherry shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Who raised you? Is this a Gen Z thing?”
Cole smiled. “Yeah, just about as much as phrases from fifty years ago are a Gen X thing.”
Sherry narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together in displeasure. “Whatever.”
Heading back to her own desk, she grabbed the notebook and slid her finger down to the number that she got for one of the people who had concerns about a school bus. Once again, she pressed the headset down around her ears and adjusted the microphone so that she wouldn’t sound like a heavy-breathing creep.
Plunking down an open line, she dialed. It rang three times and she started to rehearse the message she would leave when someone picked up.
“Hello?” A man’s voice streamed through the headset.
“Yes, hi, this is Officer Hale. I’m returning your call about a school bus. It says here you have some concerns?”
“Well, yes, but…” the man on the other end paused. “I’m not really sure if it’s necessarily something you can address.”
“Try me,” Sherry said. “You’d be shocked with our success rate.”
Sherry looked over at Cole and winked.
“Ok, I called because the bus route is always the same, you know? Same kids get on at the stop near my house every day. Unless they are sick, of course.”
“Of course,” Sherry echoed, still looking at Cole. This time, she crossed her eyes.
Cole stifled a laugh.
Sherry knew where this was going. It was the same place all of these calls go at the beginning of the school year- a stranger lurking near the bus stop, or children making too much noise.
“Yeah,” the man said after a pause. “I know it sounds strange, but I keep seeing the same bus. Same driver, same kids. It stops at Birch Street at 7:42, just like always, then two minutes later it’s passing my house again, full. It’s not possible for it to get there that fast. Not unless…” He trailed off. “I don’t know.”
Sherry scribbled the words same bus twice in her notebook and underlined them.
“Mhm,” she said. “That does seem odd. But we’ll definitely look into it. And we may need to give you a call back if we have any follow-up questions, Mr- ” Sherry flipped her notebook over. “Russo.”
After they disconnected, Sherry entered the call into the log as directed and dialed the next number.
It rang once and was answered by a spirited man with an upbeat tone. Sherry introduced herself and the man obliged.
“Hello,” he started, pausing to clear his throat. “Tom Ritchie, over on Aspen Street. Look, I’m not a crazy person, but… something’s off with that school bus.”
Sherry braced her elbow on the desk. “Go ahead.”
“It’s been stopping twice. Same place, same time. But here’s the weird part- ” he exhaled sharply, lowering his voice. “There’s this kid at the window. Blond hair, paper in his hands. Looks like he’s holding it up. Like a sign. I can’t read it from my porch, but it’s the same kid, same seat, every time.”
Sherry’s pen paused mid-word.
“You think maybe it’s just a new route or something?” she asked.
“No, ma’am. It’s the same bus number. Same driver. It’s not possible.”
Sherry jotted same bus, same driver in her notebook, then wrote child with sign and underlined it twice.
“Look, Officer Hale, something isn’t right, that’s all I know,” Tom said.
“Okay, thank you, Mr. Ritchie,” Sherry said, sliding her chair toward Cole and snapping her fingers wildly at him.
Cole looked up and she pointed to the phone, then shrugged. Cole shrugged back.
“Tom,” the caller cut in. “Call me Tom.”
“Okay, then, Tom. I may need to call you back.” Sherry’s eyes stayed locked with Cole’s.
“Please do,” Tom said.
They hung up and Sherry sighed an exasperated breath.
“Aliens?” Cole teased.
“No. Worse- humans,” Sherry said. “Thinking dumb human shit with their dumb human brains.”
“Now I’m curious,” Cole replied.
Sherry slid back to her computer and began a log entry.
“Basically,” she said, her fingers clicking and clacking quickly on the keyboard, “two men on different streets have reported that the school bus passes by twice each morning.”
She stopped typing and looked up at Cole. “One guy said there’s a kid on the bus with a sign he can’t read.”
“Was?” Cole asked. “There was a kid on the bus?”
“No,” Sherry said, shaking her head. “Is. There is a kid, each time the bus goes by. Same kid, same paper.”
Cole raised his eyebrows. “Whoa.” Then, wrinkling his forehead, “But that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sherry said. “None. And I have one more call to make to someone else with a bus issue.”
She was halfway through typing same bus, same driver when her monitor flickered- just once, a tiny pulse of static. The cursor blinked, then steadied.
•••
Across town, Rowan stared out her window, watching the same yellow bus roll past for the second time in as many minutes.
