“Did Owens put you up to this?” I ask, hand gravitating to my hips.
“Who?” he asks, his brows dropping as the jaws almost slip from Davies grip.
Crap on a cracker.
“You take care, you hear.” I stride for the jaws before the tool that’s worth thousands of dollars is reduced to mangled metal. Ironically.
“Davies! Other side of the engine!”
His eyes widen. How the hell did this guy graduate from the academy?
“S-sorry, sir. My . . .” he clears his throat, scrunching up his face. “My grandma . . . the bus, s-sir . . .”
“Fuck, why didn’t you say so?”
I remove the jaws from his grip before he drops them.
“No. I mean, I thought she might have been?—”
“She is a resident at the home?”
“No, we live together, but she volunteers.”
“Right. Well, be back in five, okay? We still have more passengers to disembark.”
“Yes sir.” He nods, swallowing.
Damn, this job has more tension than a tightrope with these two probies. Rite of passage of the new recruits, but still, it’s a mental toll.
I make a note to talk with Tennison about it later.
“Cap!”
Speak of the devil.
“Coming, Tennison.”
As I pass the group of old folks sitting with the medics, the old guy from before smiles at me.
I shake off the sentiment and step up into the bus.
We arm carry out the remaining passengers, and my grip around her hands tightens with every step we take on the last person. Like I know I have to let her hands go soon.
A current of warmth and something else travels from my palms upward as I step back out of the bus. I scan the area for fumes.
That must be it.
Fumes are fucking with my senses, sending my head aloft.
It’s not the touch of the probie who hates me.
It’s not the rare smile she gifted me.
It’s simply the tension of the situation that has every officer in their feels. This could be anyone of our grandparents. It hits close to home.
That’s exactly what this buzzing feeling in my chest is.
Period.
