Page 88 of The Mistletoe Mix-up

“You hit my dog, and you’re getting tased.” The guy dropped the branch, and she called Duke off. He ran back to her, his tongue lolling out of his mouth happily.

The guy started to scramble upright, and Wren hollered, “Take one step, and you’re going to know what being struck by lightning feels like.”

He froze, glancing back to see the Taser in her hand.

“Get on the ground.”

He did so without hesitation, and Wren kneeled to put the cuffs on him.

Duke stood next to the guy’s head, and any time he twitched, Duke would let out a deep snarl.

“You have the right to remain silent,” she said, snapping the cuffs in place before she put the Taser away. Wren lifted him to his feet, reciting his Miranda rights as she led him back to the car.

Duke panted beside them, and when they broke through the trees at the edge of the woods, Wren pulled out her flashlight and shined it in the perp’s face. The kid winced, probably no more than fourteen, and fury rushed through her like a lightning bolt.

“What the hell were you thinking, taking off like that? You could have been hurt.”

The little snot had the audacity to smirk at her. “Worked at the Festival of Trees. Figured I could outrun you again.”

Wren shook her head, continuing their march toward the cruiser. “Catching charges for stealing a bunch of Christmas decorations is pretty random. What were you doing with them anyway?”

“People pay a buttload for that stuff, and I needed money,” the kid said.

“Ever heard of a job?”

“Nooo,” the kid drawled sarcastically. “What’s that?”

Wren pressed the button on her radio and contacted dispatch, ignoring his question. “Hi, this is Officer Wren Little. I just chased a suspect on the high school property who was pushing a wheelbarrow full of Christmas lights. I’ve got the suspect in custody. Heading back to the station with him and the evidence.”

“You caught the Grinch, Little?” Becker, her brother Luke’s buddy, tsked. “Did you set a trap like the Scooby gang, or did you suddenly gain wings on your shoes?”

“I bet she used crazy glue and a net. She looks like the type to have a secret crafting dungeon,” one of the other guys quipped.

Wren released the radio, muttering under her breath, “Jackass.”

“I don’t know,” the kid said, dragging his feet. “I kind of like them.”

“Shut up,” she said through gritted teeth.

She could still hear their laughter and teasing, choosing to tune them out rather than engage. Being the new officer on the force, and a woman, some of them had taken to giving her a ration of shit. Wren wasn’t sure if they wanted her to quit or if this was their awful way of welcoming her to the squad. Either way, she was getting tired of their antics.

Not that she didn’t expect it in a male-dominated field, but the razzing seemed to be more prominent here than in the bigger cities. As she headed back to the cruiser with Duke by her side, she thought for the hundredth time since coming back that maybe she was done being a police officer. The politics and boys’ club were bad enough, but after being shot, she had been thinking of hanging up her holster. The only issue was figuring out what to do next. With her degree, she could look into teaching maybe a self-defense class or a criminology course through an online high school, but it felt a bit like giving up.

The peanut gallery was still talking, but she ignored the chatter as she returned to where the wheelbarrow was tipped over, ordering Duke to watch the suspect while she righted it. Wren wasn’t sure where this latest stash had come from, but if the kid didn’t want to answer questions, once they put out a bulletin of what had been found and what was still missing, people could come look.

Wren picked up all the items and shoved them back into the top of the wheelbarrow, nodding her head at the kid. “Let’s go.”

The kid stumbled forward with Duke hot on his heels, and Wren pushed the full wheelbarrow along the bumpy terrain until sweat poured down her neck. She glanced down at Duke, who happily walked beside her, and grumbled, “You are so lucky you don’t have opposable thumbs.”

Once she hit asphalt, the final walk back to where the cruiser was parked didn’t make her arm muscles scream in protest. As she drew closer, Wren saw a figure standing by her car, and Duke barked twice, dancing in place. She dropped the wheelbarrow handles and removed her flashlight, her other hand on her gun.

“Who are you?” she hollered. “Show me your hands!”

“Birdy?”

Sam’s voice was strained and hoarse, but Wren took her hand off her gun, sucking in a deep, relieved breath.

“You scared me,” she said, taking the kid’s arm, heading for the back seat. “I got this guy with a wheelbarrow full of lights.” The minute she got the kid inside, Sam rounded the car, eating up the ground as he barreled toward her, and for a second, she thought he was going to tackle her. Wren took a step back, bracing for impact, but instead he jerked her into his arms and squeezed her tight.