But unlearning the street smarts I’d been forced to adopt since I was a kid was harder than most people gave me credit for. Trying not to read into every call, forcing myself to keep from jumping the gun that every person who had a shifty demeanor had something to hide, was a long and tough process to work through. Even two years out of the academy.
No matter how many times I was brought into my captain’s office and reminded that Brenda from the hot yoga studio downon Elm Street didnot, in fact, have a coke problem and was trying to secretly sell her son’s ADHD meds out of their garage to finance her drug habit, and was really just that weird and normally twitchy after having one too many espressos in the morning.
One of these days, I was going to be right, though. And the satisfaction of rubbing it in all of their faces would make up for whatever docked points I’d be getting on my quarterly review.
“You want a snack or what, Bishop?”
Smiling a little, I responded. “I’m good. I am going to warm up in the car, though.”
This fucking chill was making my teeth close to chattering.
He tossed me the keys. “Don’t crank it. I hate when it gets stuffy in there.”
“Roger that.”
Parting ways from him, I headed over to the cruiser and tapped the key fob to unlock the doors. Once I was in the cab and with the door wretched close behind me, I shoved the key into the ignition to start it, blasting the air immediately. The cool burst pulled a sharp hiss out of me, thankfully bleeding into that delicious heat my body was dying for within a minute or two after the engine got going.
My utility belt dug into my hip as I leaned over to flick the temp up to the highest setting, steam fogging the front windshield damn near immediately.
Oops. Oh, well.
Pulling off my gloves, I pressed both hands against the vent to warm up my poor fingers and flex my stiff joints, cringing when the pain radiated up to my elbow. Normally, living snugly between a mountain range and a small lake was a thing most city-slickers envied, paying top dollar to bus out here for a weekend stay at the local bed and breakfast spots closer to the water’s edge.
This close to the changing seasons, coupled with the rainy weather from the lake effects sweeping over all three towns it touched, made it less ideal in my book. But I figured I was in the minority on that one, given how easily the people of this area seemed to adapt.
On the one hand, it was sort of my fault for letting my sister, Amelia, talk me into moving us all the way out here a few months back, freshly graduated from her GED program and her three year old still bouncing on her hip. She’d been all about how nice it would be to raise my niece, Ainsley, in a quiet suburb in some small town far away from the city streets both her and I had grown up on. A nice enough idea, given how unpredictable life could be at times.
Raising a child in a fast-paced world wasn’t for the weak-hearted, and even less so with a little girl who was as curious and extroverted as my niece was.
Ellington Heights was a fine place to settle down in and an even finer one to raise a family.
Well, outside of the clear difference in generational wealth we were surrounded by. But that was beside the point.
My radio let out a few tones, pulling me out of my thoughts, indicating an incoming call from dispatch.
“Unit 12, respond to possible domestic disturbance at 92 Bay Road in Edgewood. Suspect is reportedly armed. 10-4?”
Dragging my hand away from the vent, I cupped it around the receiver and pressed the button. “Unit 12, 10-4. Description of the weapon?”
There was a moment of pause. “Caller states a possible knife on suspect. No visual confirmation.”
Least it wasn’t a firearm. “10-4. Responding now.”
Leaning back over the console, I stabbed the defrost button with my finger right as the driver’s side door popped open, asoft curse tumbling past TJ’s lips. “Like a fucking sauna in here, Bishop.”
“Sorry.” I wasn’t. Not when I finally could move my fingers away. “Got a call.”
“I heard.” Swinging one leg inside the cab, he tossed the plastic bag of goodies at me, landing it right in my lap. “Got you a damn water since you insist on dehydrating yourself to death with caffeine.”
“Taurine, actually.” Peeling back the plastic knot holding the bag together, a 20 ounce water bottle sat on top of the handful of snacks he’d gotten, two of them my favorite. A bit excessive, but then he wouldn’t be the precinct’s unofficial ‘mother hen’ if he was simply handing out 12 ounce-ers.
“Whatever. You need to quit drinking that battery acid before I have to resuscitate you in the middle of a goddamn shift because you’re too busy having a heart attack to hold a gun properly.”
Smirking, I uncapped the bottle. “Good practice to maintain your CPR certification, wouldn’t you say?”
The judgmental look thrown at me was only half acknowledged as I tipped the bottle back and downed half of it in one go. The cold water stung as it raced down my throat, cooling me from the inside and hitting my empty stomach in an unpleasant way.
The cruiser peeled out of the parking lot, lights flaring once we were on the main drag heading to Edgewood.
