Not for the first time am I amazed at the composure of my officers. They are knowingly charging into an active shooter situation. I can’t even think about that, or I’ll dry heave right here at my desk. I shove the thought into a box at the back of my brain.
“I see flashing lights,” Jackie says.
My stomach tumbles yet again, but I keep my voice calm. “Those are our officers arriving on the scene. I want you to stay away from doors and windows, alright.”
“I can do that. Am I in danger?”
“The officers on the scene will take care of everything.” I say a silent prayer. “They’re going to want to get your statement when this is all said and done, so stay available.”
“I can do that.”
“You’ve done really well, Jackie. You can hang up now, but call us back if you need anything.”
We end the call, and I turn my full attention to the radio. That is, until another call comes in.
I blow out a breath and accept it. “911 of Cashmere County, what’s the address of your emergency?”
And this is one of the hardest parts of my job. I’m the first to hear about a crisis and the last to know how it ends, because I’m onto the next one, and I can only hope my fake husband—whom I now have very real feelings for—comes home to me tonight.
35
Brave Work
Collin
“Son, are you even listening to me?”
I blink against the harsh headlights that are coming at me as I navigate the rain-soaked streets of Cashmere Cove. I’m on my way home from work—four hours later than I was scheduled to be. That’s what happens when you get called to a domestic disturbance with shots fired.
I blink again against the memory. All things considered, we could have walked into a lot worse. No casualties. A suspect in custody. But it still will take me a while to process the events.
“Yeah, I’m here, Dad. Sorry. Long day.” If anyone should understand, it’s him. But somehow, he never seems to. Especially not now with the election less than two months away.
“You should be used to long days by now. Why don’t you come over? We’ve got details to discuss. We’re in the homestretch, and we don’t want to lose momentum.”
I hit my blinker, turning onto my street. The lights are on at my house, and the thought of Noli being there sends an immediate trickle of warmth down my spine. I feel my shoulders settle and relax for the first time in the past six hours.
“I’m busy tonight,” I say.
“Busy?” My dad snorts. “With what? What could be more important than making sure your ducks are in a row for the election?”
“Noli made dinner, and I want to hang out with her.” And then, because old habits die hard, I try to compromise. “I can come over tomorrow to talk through things.”
My dad is quiet before clearing his throat. “Fine. Fine. If that’s the way it’s going to be. But don’t say I didn’t tell you this would happen.”
I sigh. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve turned into a whipped puppy where that woman is concerned. It’s not going to end well.”
I didn’t think it was possible to feel any more exhausted coming off my shift, but this conversation is pushing me right over the edge. Thank goodness I’m home.
“I don’t know about a whipped puppy, but I am a happy one.” I lace my voice with as much cheer as I can muster after my day. “Look. I’ve got to go. I’ll text you tomorrow, and you can get the guys over, and we’ll all get on the same page for the final push, yeah?”
“Suit yourself.”
Okay, then.At least I tried.
“Bye, Dad.”
