Chapter 2
Tim Larken and his rookie trainee approached the apartment they’d been directed to for a possible domestic disturbance. Loud voices could be heard from inside. Tim nodded at Kevin, silently asking if he was ready, and knocked sharply on the door. The voices inside ceased.
A man in his mid- to late-twenties opened the door. He took one look at Tim and his partner and turned to the woman visible in the kitchen. “Seriously? You called the cops? I’m so fucking done with you.”
The woman burst into loud sobs and covered her face.
“Sir, can I have you step outside please?” Tim posed it as a question, but it was more of an order. He stepped back, hand resting on his belt, close to his taser.
The guy shook his head and sighed. “Fuck this shit.”
“Sir.”
“Yeah, sure.” He held his hands away from his body, palms opened.
Tim had a feeling this wasn’t the guy’s first run-in with the police, but the hair on the back of his neck told him something about the situation was off.
Another Haven Springs police cruiser pulled in front of the building and Chuck Martinez joined them in the front of the apartment.
“Officer Larken. Officer Moore.”
“Officer Martinez,” Tim said. Kevin nodded.
“Great. Now it’s a party.”
Tim gave his attention back to the guy they’d pulled from the apartment. “Do you have any ID on you?”
“In my back pocket.”
“Go ahead,” Tim said.
The guy sighed, pulled his wallet out, and handed over his driver’s license.
Tim tilted the ID to see the print under the hologram. “Martin? This is expired.”
Martin held out a military ID card. “Tennessee resident. They have a military exemption.”
“Do you go by Martin?”
“Marty.”
“All right, Marty. Why don’t you tell us what the argument is about.”
“I broke up with her. I’m trying to get my shit so I can leave. She wasn’t supposed to be home, but called in sick just to fuck with me.”
“Why would she do that?” Kevin asked.
He looked at Tim after he asked the question. Not sure what limits his previous field training officer had given him, Tim nodded shortly. Chuck tilted his head toward the apartment and left them to question the woman inside.
“Because she’s crazy,” Marty said. “I’m not talking the normal level of crazy you’d expect from a hot chick—she’s certifiable.”
He pulled down the collar of his shirt, exposing three red scratch marks. “She did this because I was messaging one of my buddies and making plans. She crawled into my lap and I thought cool, she’s horny. No. Bitch dug her claws into my chest and told me when I was with her I needed to pay attention to only her.”
He lifted the hem of his shirt to display a long bruise on his ribs. “This? Fucking metal vacuum tube because I didn’t get the right kind of ice cream. She set my favorite boots on fire because my co-worker, who’s a happily married grandmother by the way, answered my phone while I was with a client.”
Chuck exited the apartment and joined them. “Your girl’s got some pretty red marks on her face.”
Marty held out his hands. “Not my girl anymore and I don’t hit women.”
