Buzz.Wyatt appeared in the doorway. He caught Morgan’s eye and waved her over.
“I guess I should have called to give you a heads-up we were on our way. Is now a good time for a tour?”
“Absolutely.” Wyatt patted Tristan’s shoulder. “Have you ever been inside a police station?”
“No.” Tristan tapped his foot. “It’s kinda ugly.”
“It certainly won’t win any décor awards.” Wyatt motioned for them to follow him down a long hall, leading Morgan and her nephew past several offices, the walls sporting the same dull, drab shades. “Our police captain and part-time investigator work here.”
“Awesome,” Tristan said. “Do you have a jail to lock the bad guys up?”
“We do. It’s more of a holding cell. Depending on the offense, some are transferred to a larger facility on the mainland while others pay money to bond out.” Wyatt gave a simple explanation of how the process worked. He showed them the booking room and the interrogation room.
“Where do you work?”
“I spend most of my time patrolling the island. My office is back here.” He showed them a large room filled with desks and wall dividers. “My desk is over there.”
Morgan tiptoed over to take a closer look. Clustered on one side was a family photo of Wyatt’s parents and siblings. Another photo, an action shot of Wyatt zip lining, sat next to it, whilethe third was of Morgan, Wyatt and Chester chilling on Looking Glass Cottage’s beach with the sun setting behind them, the skies vibrant shades of pink and orange.
“Do you use ink to take fingerprints like in the movies?”
“Sometimes. For the most part, we use LiveScan. It’s basically a glass plate that digitally scans fingerprints. Would you like to try it?”
“Sure.” Tristan did a happy dance. “I’ve never been fingerprinted before.”
“Which is a good thing. It means you’ve never been in trouble with the law.”
Backtracking, the trio returned to a room near the front. Off to the side was what appeared to be a small printer.
Wyatt turned the machine on. A green screen popped up. “Press your thumb down on this glass plate.”
Tristan did as Wyatt instructed. An image of a fingerprint appeared on the laptop screen sitting next to the device. “This is your fingerprint. After taking prints of all of your fingers, we would go next door where the mugshots, or arrest photos, are taken.”
“I wish I had a fingerprint machine,” the boy marveled. “Can we go see the holding cell?”
“Unfortunately, someone is in there right now.”
Tristan’s excitement was short-lived. “Bummer.”
“I can, however, show you the inside of my patrol car.”
“Okay.” Tristan ran to the door, almost as if he was afraid if they took too long, Wyatt would change his mind.
Morgan caught her boyfriend’s eye and winked. Wyatt’s patience with the inquisitive boy, who was firing off questions ata rapid rate, made her love him even more. She had no doubt her boyfriend would one day be a wonderful father and husband for some lucky woman…maybe even her.
Exiting through the back door, the trio crossed the parking lot, where a handful of patrol cars sat parked. Wyatt unlocked the door of the car at the end, the one closest to the station.
“Can I sit up front?” Tristan clapped his hands, a look of pure joy on his face.
“If Morgan doesn’t mind sitting behind the cage.”
“Not at all.” She climbed in the back.
“What does this do?” Tristan tapped a knob on the dashboard.
“It’s my police monitor’s volume button.”
Morgan sat quietly listening while he explained the gadgets and gizmos. He let Tristan turn the sirens and lights on and even handcuffed him for a moment.
