I felt the tears fall from my eyes and didn’t even try to wipe them away.
Chase gave her a little smile. “I’d do that.”
She bolted from her seat and threw her arms around Chase. “Ya know, for the fuzz, you ain’t half bad.”
I couldn’t agree more.
We dropped Regina off at the girls home, and Chase spoke to Arlene about Regina’s social worker. See if he couldn’t get the ball rolling. As we drove back to his house, I had to admit he’d surprised me today. While unyielding on some things—like pretend curfews—he still had a compassionate side that was admirable.
I turned in my seat to face him. “I’ve decided Regina is right. For the fuzz, you ain’t half bad.”
Chase smiled and my heart skipped. “For a career criminal, Martin, you ain’t half bad yourself.”
Chapter 12
“What’s on today’s agenda?” Chase asked as I shuffled into the kitchen the next morning.
“Trash pickup by the side of the road,” I said.
He frowned. “Are you sure you should be doing that with a crutch?”
I shrugged. “I don’t see what it would hurt. Just make sure I don’t fall over into the highway.”
I meant it as a joke, but Chase didn’t laugh.
“Maybe we should nix this one,” Chase said. “I can call Clifford and tell him you’ll need to do these four hours somewhere else.”
“No,” I said. “I’ll be careful. I promise. I love picking up trash along the roadway.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s something I do with my parents a lot,” I said. “Since they aren’t here, it will make me feel closer to them.”
“I’ve heard you say some strange things over the last few days,” he joked, “but that’s right up there.”
“Oh, ha ha.”
“You miss your folks a lot?” he asked.
“Yeah. They’re an important part of my life.”
“Maybe you’ll get to see them sooner than you think,” he said.
I shrugged. “I don’t want them to see me like this.”
“Breakfast?”
I opened the refrigerator. “I’ll grab a yogurt and granola. Is there hot water ready?”
“On the stove.”
“You’re all right, Chase Cryer.” I popped off the top of my yogurt, dumped a handful of granola inside, stirred, and smiled around a mouthful of goodness. “I mean, for a cop.”
He shook his head. “You know, you say that a lot.”
Grinning, I shoved another spoonful of yogurt in my mouth.
“I want to be on the road in fifteen,” he said, “and you still have to get dressed.”
