Caleb tried and failed to place the patrolman who exited the vehicle. He wasn’t young, thankfully, but he looked agitated enough under the circumstances.
“I’m Officer Barnes,” Caleb told him, turning the face of his cell phone outward so the man could not mistake it for a gun. “There are two civilians still in the room. One’s a female vic,” he said, indicating the open door behind him. “My badge number is—”
He caught sight of the door to the second car opening. A beefy figure stepped out, silhouetted against the noonday sun. Caleb could still make out the doughy shape, though, if not the details of the man’s appearance. He groaned.
“On second thought,” he told the first responder, “go ahead and shoot me.”
If the officer was confused by Caleb’s remark, he didn’t have time to decide whether or not to pull his gun. Sergeant Rawlins ambled toward them , managing to look somehow both gleeful and pissed off with just his one ugly face.
“Caleb Barnes,” the older man drawled.
“Rawlins,” Caleb grumbled in reply.
“Scoping out some new digs?” he asked, hitching his utility belt higher. “Gotta have a place to hang your hat after a long day in the unemployment line.”
Caleb pressed his lips together to keep from answering. Starting an argument with Rawlins was ill-advised because what Caleb really wanted to do was punch Rawlins… repeatedly. And though he knew that secretly there were quite a number of guys who would raise a glass to Caleb afterward, it certainly wouldn’t help shore up his unsteady future at RCPD.
Rawlins was scum, though, and no doubt deserved it. Worse than that , he was incompetent scum, which made him not only a disgrace to the badge but a serious detriment at times. Rawlins’ lack of ability to do anything even remotely resembling actual police work had nearly gotten Sarah Sullivan, Shooter’s vulnerable young wife, killed a few years ago. As far as Caleb was concerned, that was a sin that could never be forgiven.
Caleb had been forced to endure seeing Rawlins multiple times a week since then and had been unable to stop Rawlins from recently threatening Tildy, Hawk’s wife, as well as implying that she had been somehow at fault for her own sexual assault last year. There was so much bad blood between the two men that Caleb wasn’t sure even a well-deserved pummeling would be enough. He set his jaw and let the personal remarks slide.
“I’ve got a B and E,” he said, mostly to the other officer who was hovering awkwardly at his vehicle, unsure what to do now that someone more senior had arrived on scene. “He attacked a guest here.”
“A guest?” Rawlins drawled, barely interested. “So how does that involve you?” He glanced over Caleb’s shoulder, then said, “Oh,” with a wide grin suddenly spreading on his dimpled face. Caleb clenched his fists and vowed not to add even more dents to it. He half-turned and saw Izzy emerging from the motel room.
Relieved at having something to actually do, the other officer sprang forward and guided Izzy farther out into the lot, though she needed no help. After being assured that she needed no medical assistance, the officer peeked inside the room. He swung a worried gaze back over his shoulder.
“Um,” he said, in a cracked voice. “Sergeant?”
Rawlins grumbled a bit and made his way to the room. “What?” he snapped, almost pushing Izzy out of the way. She side-stepped him without a word. “You can’t secure one— Oh, Jesus,” he declared. But he didn’t sound alarmed, just irritated. “Well, don’t just stand there,” Rawlins barked. “Cuff him and call a bus.”
“Cuff him?” the officer repeated, glancing dubiously into the room.
Rawlins rolled his eyes. “He’s a suspect, right? So cuff him until the paramedics arrive.”
“Miranda,” Caleb reminded them.
“Oh, sure,” snapped Rawlins. “Let’s dot our ‘i’s… now that you’ve blackened his.”
“B and E and
“I’m Officer Barnes,” Caleb told him, turning the face of his cell phone outward so the man could not mistake it for a gun. “There are two civilians still in the room. One’s a female vic,” he said, indicating the open door behind him. “My badge number is—”
He caught sight of the door to the second car opening. A beefy figure stepped out, silhouetted against the noonday sun. Caleb could still make out the doughy shape, though, if not the details of the man’s appearance. He groaned.
“On second thought,” he told the first responder, “go ahead and shoot me.”
If the officer was confused by Caleb’s remark, he didn’t have time to decide whether or not to pull his gun. Sergeant Rawlins ambled toward them , managing to look somehow both gleeful and pissed off with just his one ugly face.
“Caleb Barnes,” the older man drawled.
“Rawlins,” Caleb grumbled in reply.
“Scoping out some new digs?” he asked, hitching his utility belt higher. “Gotta have a place to hang your hat after a long day in the unemployment line.”
Caleb pressed his lips together to keep from answering. Starting an argument with Rawlins was ill-advised because what Caleb really wanted to do was punch Rawlins… repeatedly. And though he knew that secretly there were quite a number of guys who would raise a glass to Caleb afterward, it certainly wouldn’t help shore up his unsteady future at RCPD.
Rawlins was scum, though, and no doubt deserved it. Worse than that , he was incompetent scum, which made him not only a disgrace to the badge but a serious detriment at times. Rawlins’ lack of ability to do anything even remotely resembling actual police work had nearly gotten Sarah Sullivan, Shooter’s vulnerable young wife, killed a few years ago. As far as Caleb was concerned, that was a sin that could never be forgiven.
Caleb had been forced to endure seeing Rawlins multiple times a week since then and had been unable to stop Rawlins from recently threatening Tildy, Hawk’s wife, as well as implying that she had been somehow at fault for her own sexual assault last year. There was so much bad blood between the two men that Caleb wasn’t sure even a well-deserved pummeling would be enough. He set his jaw and let the personal remarks slide.
“I’ve got a B and E,” he said, mostly to the other officer who was hovering awkwardly at his vehicle, unsure what to do now that someone more senior had arrived on scene. “He attacked a guest here.”
“A guest?” Rawlins drawled, barely interested. “So how does that involve you?” He glanced over Caleb’s shoulder, then said, “Oh,” with a wide grin suddenly spreading on his dimpled face. Caleb clenched his fists and vowed not to add even more dents to it. He half-turned and saw Izzy emerging from the motel room.
Relieved at having something to actually do, the other officer sprang forward and guided Izzy farther out into the lot, though she needed no help. After being assured that she needed no medical assistance, the officer peeked inside the room. He swung a worried gaze back over his shoulder.
“Um,” he said, in a cracked voice. “Sergeant?”
Rawlins grumbled a bit and made his way to the room. “What?” he snapped, almost pushing Izzy out of the way. She side-stepped him without a word. “You can’t secure one— Oh, Jesus,” he declared. But he didn’t sound alarmed, just irritated. “Well, don’t just stand there,” Rawlins barked. “Cuff him and call a bus.”
“Cuff him?” the officer repeated, glancing dubiously into the room.
Rawlins rolled his eyes. “He’s a suspect, right? So cuff him until the paramedics arrive.”
“Miranda,” Caleb reminded them.
“Oh, sure,” snapped Rawlins. “Let’s dot our ‘i’s… now that you’ve blackened his.”
“B and E and
Similar Books
