Bounty Divided, BBQ Planned
Bluebonnet Truck Stop diner.
Including me, the four of us truckers had gathered again. Me, Road King, Big Tom, and Sandman.
"Alright, now that we're all here, let's get into it."
Road King said, taking a sip of his coffee.
"You probably heard from Winch, but the total bounty is 50,000 dollars."
"Whew, 50 grand?"
Big Tom whistled. None of us could hide our grins.
"Damn, that's huge. Didn't expect it to be this big."
Sandman muttered in disbelief. I nodded and chimed in with more details.
"It's the combined bounties from all over—FBI, state, whoever. Being a serial killer jacked it up along the way."
"Haha, who cares how much? Free money! We're splitting it, right?"
Big Tom asked with a beaming smile.
"Yeah. The cops said all our names were on the list when they called."
Road King glanced at me.
"Winch, honestly, this whole thing is thanks to you."
His sudden words caught me off guard, and I waved them off.
"What're you talking about? We all did it together."
"Nah, Jake. Road King's right."
Big Tom grinned at me.
"You got the intel on that truck, and all we did was report a suspicious rig. But you tracked it down and followed it yourself."
"Spot on. Looked half-crazy doing it."
Sandman agreed.
"Honestly, I'd have just called it in and called it a day. But you went right up to the trailer door, checked it out, chased the killer's car... Hell, I still sleep with all the lights on sometimes."
The bear of a man grumbled dramatically. I couldn't help but chuckle, thinking of Marcus who teased him daily on Messenger.
Road King laughed and playfully smacked my shoulder.
"Hey, Winch. No need to be humble. You were brave that day. And your judgment was spot-on."
"Haha, got it. But really, I couldn't have done it alone—you know that."
"We know, we know."
He nodded, then looked around at the others.
"Reason I brought it up? Even with the bounty, Winch deserves the lion's share. What do you think, guys?"
His unexpected proposal hung in the air. But before I could respond, the others jumped in like they'd rehearsed it.
"Hell yeah!"
"I barely lifted a finger, so no complaints here."
Big Tom and Sandman too. It was like they'd coordinated behind my back.
We hadn't done it for the cash... but damn, it warmed the heart anyway.
"Aw, guys... thanks."
They all looked tough as nails on the outside, these truckers.
But deep down, they were honest, good-hearted folks.
"...But isn't the split up to the cops anyway?"
"Yeah, but..."
Road King scratched his chin at Sandman's question.
"Usually they rank tipsters—first informant, second, like that."
"So Winch is first, right?"
"Obviously."
Big Tom said, taking a swig of his beer.
"Cops'll figure the math. We just cash in."
"Taxes?"
Sandman asked worriedly.
"Taxes?"
"Yeah. Bounties are taxable, right?"
Road King waved it off.
"Leave the headaches to a tax guy. I know one—I'll hook you up."
"Me too. Holler if you need."
I thought of the accountant who'd helped with my taxes before—sharp, quick work. I jumped in.
"No point stressing. Hand off the complicated stuff like taxes to pros."
"Amen."
Big Tom and Sandman nodded. Road King raised his glass.
"Screw taxes—let's toast first. We nailed it!"
"Cheers!"
Our glasses clinked.
"So, what're y'all doing with the dough?"
Big Tom asked after downing his beer in one go. Road King answered first with a grin.
"College fund for the kids. Oldest is heading off next year."
"Good dad."
Sandman pointed toward his truck.
"Engine overhaul. She's past a million miles."
"Smart move."
Big Tom nodded.
"Gonna spoil the wife a bit. Always too busy for her."
"Aw, romantic."
We all burst out laughing at the unexpected answer from the big guy. His face flushed red as he turned to me.
"What about you, Jake?"
"Pay down debt, save up. Wanna buy a house someday."
"Solid goal."
Road King clapped my back.
"Save young—that's the play."
The waitress came by for orders.
"What can I get you?"
"Basket of hot wings. Extra spicy."
Big Tom ordered quick. Fast when food's involved.
"And another beer."
"Got it."
While waiting, we chatted future plans.
"Gotta hit the station next week, right?"
"Yeah. Paperwork and ID check."
"Easy peasy."
"Checks, they said?"
"Deposit at the bank."
"Piece of cake."
Road King laughed.
"Don't overthink it. We did good, we're getting paid. Done."
Next week, Houston police station.
We arrived right on time. Led to a conference room, where Daniel was already waiting in uniform—looking sharper than usual.
"Come on in, folks."
Daniel stood, shaking hands all around. His big hand radiated warmth and resolve.
"Thanks again. We got the bastard because of you."
"Honor to help, Daniel."
As we sat, a middle-aged woman entered with a stack of papers.
"I'll explain the bounty payout."
She adjusted her black horn-rimmed glasses and launched into a businesslike rundown.
"Total: 50,000 dollars. FBI: 30,000; Texas state: 15,000; Crime Stoppers: 5,000."
"Complicated mess."
Road King muttered.
"Multi-agency cases like this often are."
She flipped through pages, continuing.
"Payouts based on contribution. We used Officer Daniel Johnson's report. It states..."
Just as expected.
Daniel leaned toward us.
"Jake Winch played the key role. Any objections?"
Road King, Sandman, and Big Tom all shook their heads. Daniel nodded along.
"You three were crucial too—locating the truck, aiding the pursuit on scene. Thanks again."
He looked me dead in the eye.
"But Jake Winch stood out. Gathered intel from fellow truckers, checked the suspect trailer himself, tracked the perp to the end, shared precise location. We caught him and saved the survivor thanks to your courage and quick thinking."
My chest tightened with pride.
The officer unfolded a document.
"Payout as follows:"
She read them off one by one.
"Jake Winch: 30,000 dollars."
"'Big Tom' Thomas Langford: 10,000 dollars."
"'Road King' Michael Thompson: 6,000 dollars."
"'Sandman' David Lee: 4,000 dollars."
The three nodded at me, flashing thumbs-up with smirks. Road King laughed and thumped my back.
"You got what you earned, Winch! Congrats!"
"But..."
"No buts."
Big Tom and Sandman piled on.
"We're just happy to get anything. It's fair—no sweat."
"Four grand's a fortune to me. Totally good."
The officer asked:
"Any objections?"
They waved it off in unison.
"None!"
"Not a bit."
"Fair as can be."
She smiled.
"Good. Sign here."
We signed in turn.
"Bounties are miscellaneous income—taxable. You'll get Form 1099-MISC by mail. Expect 22-24% taxes."
"Got it."
"Checks in two weeks, mailed. Address changes?"
We confirmed ours. Procedures wrapped, she stood and offered her hand.
"That's it. Congrats—and thanks again. You saved a life."
Handshakes done, we filed out. In the hall, Big Tom nudged my shoulder.
"Jake, 30k? House down payment in no time."
"Haha, still a ways off. Houses ain't cheap..."
"Hey, good start."
Road King chuckled beside us. Then Daniel called from down the hall.
"Hold up, guys."
"Yeah?"
"Wanted to thank you personally. Free next week?"
Road King and Sandman exchanged looks.
"I'm good."
"Me too."
Big Tom shrugged. Daniel checked them, then grinned at me.
"Jake?"
"All set."
"Great. My treat—dinner?"
"No way. We struck it rich; we treat the officer."
Big Tom laughed. Daniel waved it off.
"Haha, nah. You guys got me big props internally. Got good news to share too."
"Good news?"
"Yeah. Next week. You'll like it."
Daniel beamed proudly. We headed to the parking lot.
Big Tom muttered curiously.
"What good news?"
"Promotion? Case blew up."
Road King guessed.
"Could be. Huge deal—news covered it tons."
"Yeah, we cashed in big; hope he does too."
Sandman hummed happily. We split to our trucks. Before parting, Road King said:
"So, what we eating next week?"
"Johnson picks."
"Still, good to think ahead."
Sandman scratched his chin.
"Steak?"
"Steak's basic. Something special..."
An idea hit me. Texas BBQ every celebration was getting old anyway...
"I'll make Korean BBQ. Sound good, guys?"
"Korean?"
"Different from Texas style, but tasty. Trust me."
Big Tom's eyes lit up.
"Korean food? Hell yeah! Love it—seen it on TV."
"Me too. Kimchi, bulgogi?"
Sandman looked intrigued. Korean culture's boom meant everyone knew a dish or two.
"That and more. I'll check with Daniel."
"Perfect! Saturday?"
"Yeah. 6 PM at our trailer park."
Road King grinned and punched my arm.
"Sweet—no pressure. Text the address."
"You got it. See you then."