Page 1 of Finding You
Chapter One
Zion Priestly tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he bobbed his head to the music that was playing through the speakers of his police cruiser. For the most part, his twelve-hour shift had been an ordinary day on the streets of Chicago.
There’d only been one domestic violence call he’d had to respond to earlier in the day. Eight moving violations, and then there was the hit-and-run incident he’d assisted with a short while ago. He might actually end his shift on time for a change.
He glanced out at the semi-cloudy sky where he could see a hint of the sun as it began its descent. With it being the end of March, it was starting to stay light a little longer, and hopefully, they’d start getting some warmer days.
“Oh, sh… Dude, what are you doing?” Zion grumbled.
Car horns blared and more than one person flipped the driver in the blue Dodge Charger off as he weaved from one lane to the other. Good thing traffic wasn’t as bad as it had been a half hour ago. Otherwise, Zion would be responding to a car accident versus a possible DUI traffic stop.
He watched from a short distance behind the driver, thinking the swerve into the other lane was a one-time mishap.Hopefully, the guy would straighten up, but as soon as the thought entered his mind, the driver weaved in and out of his lane.
Zion glanced at the time on the dashboard, grumbling more as he noted it was almost seven in the evening. There were twenty minutes left on his shift, and he’d hoped the previous traffic stop would be the last one for the day.
Apparently not.
“Son of a…” On reflex, Zion gripped his steering wheel and gritted his teeth when the driver barely missed ramming into the back of the vehicle in front of him. “So much for getting off work on time.”
He turned on his lights and siren and got right on the driver’s bumper. It took a minute for the guy to notice him in his rear-view mirror, and Zion knew the moment he had. The man jerked and tapped on his brakes before slowing and putting on his turn signal. Instead of pulling over to the side of the road, he made a right onto a residential street before parking in front of a duplex.
“Just once, it would be nice to get off work on time.”
Running the license plate, Zion found the vehicle registration to be up to date. Assuming this was indeed a DUI, he called for backup in case things went sideways, which happened often. He already knew a few officers were in the area, including his best friend, Lynix Mathews. He and Lynix first met in the police academy and had been tight ever since.
By the time Zion climbed out of his cruiser, Lynix was there. His friend gave a head nod, and while Zion approached the driver’s door, Lynix moved to the vehicle’s passenger side, stopping near the rear bumper.
When Zion reached the driver’s side door, he only asked for the man’s driver’s license, which the guy already had out.
“Mr. Ryan, do you know why I pulled you over?” Zion asked after skimming the license. The overpowering smell of alcoholdrifted from the driver’s window and permeated the air. The scent was so strong that it was as if the guy had taken a swim in a pool of liquor.
The man shook his head, then peered at Zion with red-rimmed eyes. “Na—nah, man, I don’t know why you’re bothering me. Go chase some real criminals.”
Though the answer was as clear as crystal, Zion asked, “Sir, have you been drinking?”
“I had a beer or two,” he said, his words slurred despite trying to hide that fact by speaking slowly.
“You sure you didn’t have more? Because I can smell the alcohol on you.” The guy said something unintelligible, and Zion moved back. “Sir, please turn off the car and remove the keys from the ignition. Then I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
After a couple of minutes of arguing, mainly with himself, the tall, lanky man in his mid-fifties finally conceded and exited the vehicle. The moment his feet touched the ground, he staggered before righting himself.
There was no need to do a field sobriety test. The guy could barely stand up straight, and he had already admitted to drinking.
Zion pocketed the man’s keys.
“Sir, please turn and face your car. Do you have any weapons or needles on you?” Zion asked, preparing to pat him down while Lynix peered through the windows of the vehicle. His friend gave a slight shake of his head, letting Zion know there wasn’t any liquor, drugs, or weapons visible.
“Come on,Pig, you ain—ain’t gotta take me in. I’ll just walk home,” Mr. Ryan insisted, his fair skin pale while he looked as if he’d pass out at any moment.
“You should’ve done that in the first place. Now turn around.”
“I—I think I’m—I’mma be sick,” the man said seconds before he vomited in the street, a couple of chunks hitting Zion’s shoe in the process.
Ahh, hell.Zion jumped away as if being burned when the guy threw up more, barely missing him. The man slumped against the car and the disgusting, sour smell of beer and something else almost took Zion’s breath away. He’d smelled and seen worse, but he still struggled not to gag.
“Turn your ass around,” he ground between gritted teeth while jerking the man around to face the vehicle. He carefully patted him down, then read him his rights as he slapped handcuffs on him.
Zion’s attitude soured as much as the horrific smell of the vomit, even more as he walked the guy to his police cruiser. Knowing he’d have to endure the rank smell for the twenty-minute drive back to the station only pissed him off more. It didn’t help that Lynix was chuckling as he climbed into his own clean, probably fresh-smelling cruiser.
