When I sawherfor the first time, all the dirt and piled up garbage bags ceased to exist. Early morning sunlight shone like a halo around her as she got ready for her day, and I simply ignored the piece of trash lying on the other side of her bed.
I watched her every move, mesmerized by how she did the simplest task. Seeing her pick up mail became the highlight of my day, and I only slept once she got in the car and drove off to work. I offered to take over the night watch, just so that the others could get some rest and definitely not because I wanted to stare at her for another hour or two. No one addressed it, which made me think I was being subtle.
“She knows about the shit her husband’s doing. Can feel it in my gut.”
“That’s the protein bar you stole from Sam. Does she really look like a criminal to you?”
“We’re solving cases based on looks now, sunshine? Grew a pair of all-knowing eyes? We should call the Supreme Court, maybe they’ll even build you a pretty throne. Max, just imagine, you could be the Helios of our time.”
“I’m surprised you even know who that is,” I snap back. Logan drives over a pothole instead of around it, forcing a groan out of me. “You don’t have to mock everything I say.”
“You hear the stuff that leaves your mouth, right?”
He laughs and reaches behind his seat to squeeze my thigh. How am I supposed to be mad at him for more than thirty seconds? I suppress a grin and Rockwell’s voice comes through the radio for our periodic check-in, demanding Logan’s attention.
Just three more hours and then we’re finally back at base. I can’t wait to have a long, steaming hot shower, or drop by a decontamination chamber.
Now matter how hard I think about it, I don’t get why they sent us for this job. Thinning out the front lines of a local gang isn’t what we usually do, and I have a suspicionLieutenant General Sanders had a say in this matter. As if Logan needed more reasons to pull out his nails and make him eat them.
I spend the remaining drive either dozing off or staring at the girl in my lap, and soon, Logan greets the guy at the base entrance before driving into the compound.
Our quarters are still a few minutes away, located somewhat remote from the other buildings. Back when I joined the task force, we were the only ones living there, until one of the main buildings had to undergo renovations. After the incident, the rookies learned to avoid our house. So now it’s just us and another task force that moved in shortly after Sanders’ arrival on base, but since they are located overseas most of the time, we don’t run into each other often.
“This,” Logan points at the girl in my lap while we wait for the garage door to open, “ends right here. Put her in a cell.”
He parks the car, throws me the keys and walks over to Sam and Rockwell, who are already busy bringing Mr. Holton to his new, temporary home. I bet Logan’s happy I’m not arguing about it with him, but the truth is, Iwantedto take care of her. Taking care of putting her in a cell, I mean.
I open the reinforced door to the cell block, carrying Mrs. Holton bridal style. Logan exhales deeply and when Rockwell and Sam come out of Mr. Holton’s cell, they just shake their heads at me before resuming their conversation.
I hate how fragile she looks as I put her down on a metallic detention bed, and when I think about getting a blanket for her, Logan calls my name. As if he can smell that I’m beingtoo niceagain.
“Ass over here, Vaughn,” he barks when I don’t react.
Sighing, I close the door to Mrs. Holton’s cell and join the others in the hallway.
“Cleanup crew’s already at the house,” Rockwell says, looking up from his phone. “I talked to Governor Emerson onthe drive back here. He asked me to keep Mr. Holton in detainment for a while, to see if we can find out how much he knows about the 203. Guess they’ve been crossing a few lines lately.”
“Oh, so we’re the police now?” Logan asks, searching his pockets for cigarettes.
“Governor Emerson would be grateful if we handle the issue for him,” Rockwell states dryly, knowing how to avoid discussions with Logan by now.
“If this means I have to go back to the hell-house, I’m out.” Sam swats a non-existent bug off of his shoulder, lowering his brows. “You know I don’t have to do this. My wife is rich. I could resign right-fucking-now.”
“This isn’t a summer job, Lieutenant Ryves, and I’d like to remind you that your six-year contract is still running. Got really prissy since you married her,” Rockwell adds under his breath.
“You are calling me prissy?” Sam snaps back. “Who had to take care of the fucking racoons, Arthur? Who?”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, punching Sam’s arm. “I could have lured them out. Rodents love me.”
He digs his index finger into my shoulder, towering over me as he speaks. “You stay the hell away from anything that’s not a cat or dog. I’m not going to repeat what happened in Belarus.”
Logan taps his foot, his lack of nicotine becoming more and more obvious.
“How are we gonna do it? Can I go in? Ten minutes and you’ll have your confession.”
We haven’t had a captive in a while, and Logan needs them to decompress. Usually, Rockwell and Sam go in first for interrogations. Rockwell talks, and Sam looms in the background. If that doesn’t work, they call Logan. When Logan doesn’t getany good intel, it turns into a job for someone with a pressure washer and a strong stomach.
“We need reliable information, not something he said because you made him shit his pants.”
