Chapter 23

My turn at the duty desk was, as usual, absolute torture. It was a rotating schedule, thank God, so we were only assigned twice a month. But the longer I sat at my desk sifting through the burglary file, the more pissed off I got. The car that Cap had talked about had seemingly vanished into thin air. The one possible lead with the license plate came back altered, so there was no help there either.

Thankfully, no one had reported any other burglaries over the last couple of days, but people had started to ask why our department couldn't get this thing solved. A few posts on the community website suggested that Chief wasn't the right person to run the department and new blood was needed. The chief shrugged it off, but with every surly encounter, we could all tell that every day it went unsolved, angered him a little more.

"Beckett, I gotta cut out early."

"Cameron, I don't give a shit. I'm not your boss. Tell Chief, not me." Cameron lounged around the station and wasn't actually helping me anyway. I hated to share files with him, and he knew it. Unless he was trying to piss me off, which he did with regularity, I preferred to look at it by myself so I could sort through things without being distracted.

Cameron was a good cop, and we worked well together. When you needed fast talking and a bulldozer approach, he was your guy. When you needed research and concentration, not so much.

"He's in his office, and he already yelled at me for interrupting him."

"What was he doing?"

"Staring at his phone."

"I still don't give a shit."

"Okay, well, I'm telling you I'm leaving early in case anyone is looking for me."

I sighed. Cameron wouldn't leave me the fuck alone until I asked him where he was going. "Where are you going?"

"Jonas and I are gonna go to Mr. Mac's and work on his gutters. They were a hot fucking mess the last time I was out there."

"You still checking on him?"

"Yeah, since I heard about Laken's time slot bullshit."

"What's up with that?" I didn't understand why Laken put up with that shit, but it wasn't my circus.

"Fuck if I know. He and Fuckwit have been together since college. If he were happy, I guess I'd accept it. But I know Laken better than I know myself, and no fucking way is he happy." Cameron paused before he continued, "Is this what Will is doing to you?"

"What?" I growled.

"Talking about feelings and shit."

"Fuck off. I don't give a shit about Fuckwit, but I've always liked Laken."

"Yeah, he always liked you too. I don't get it. Your parents think you're a pain in the ass."

"Yeah, they do." And with that, I turned back to my file.

I knew Cameron said it just to mess with me, but the arrow hit too close to the target. My parents had always seen something in me that was unlikable and maybe even unlovable. Will hadn't seen it yet, but he would. If he thought he was doing a decent job of hiding those heart eyes from me, he was sorely mistaken. Will would find the thing my parents knew the moment I was born. It was only a matter of time, but Will would end it soon.

No one stayed for me.

As if he could read my thoughts, my phone pinged with an incoming text. It was, of course, from Will. A link to a recipe he wanted to try. I would ride this domestic wave as far as it would take me.

After the recipe, he sent me a series of dumb GIFs. Will knew how much I hated the damn phone for anything besides reading books, so he never expected me to reciprocate with my own.

It never stopped him from sending them though. Sometimes, they were links to news articles related to the subjects I was currently reading about. Other times, like today, it was recipes for things he thought sounded good, or it was silliness I couldn't bring myself to admit I liked.

The next few hours ticked by in slow motion. With Cameron gone, there wasn't even chatter in the background to occupy my brain. I just turned Will's intentions over and over in my mind until they were all jumbled up with my own. What I wanted and what I expected was a tangled rat's nest I didn't pretend to understand.

"Hey, Hagen, can you go check a tripped alarm?" Holly, the daytime dispatcher on duty, asked when she poked up from her cubicle. "All my road officers are tied up on calls right now."

"Yeah, I'll go." The address she gave was one I'd been to before. A family of raccoons had taken up residence in the garage, and they regularly tripped the alarm. The family kept paying for traps, but trash pandas were a persistent bunch and kept coming back. I hated when it was my turn to sit at the station, so any reason to get out of there, even if it did mean I'd be chasing animals out of the garage, was a good one.

The address was on the north end of the island, where the houses were farther apart. Almost all of them were summer homes, with very few year-round residences.

This particular place had a switchback driveway, which allowed the house to be hidden behind layers of trees. Unfortunately, it also prevented driving at any speed but slow with the series of hairpin turns. I was surprised to see a car in the driveway when I pulled up since, according to the alarm company notes, the place should be empty until next week.

When I pulled into the yard, two men ran from the open front doors of the house. They raced to their vehicle, gunned the engine, and sped around me.

I whipped my own car around to follow them. My lights and sirens were activated, but with the turns, neither of us could move especially fast. They weren't pulling over though, so my hopes this would end quickly dwindled. I did my best to keep my breathing even and my attention focused on the vehicle in front of me.

When we reached the main road, the driver floored the accelerator and took off down the road that encircled the island.

"Dispatch, this is Unit Charlie Five, requesting backup."

"Unit Charlie Five, go ahead."

"Dispatch, in pursuit of possible burglary suspects. Headed south on State Route 1348. Suspects in a black SUV with unknown plates, approaching fifty miles per hour. Will be near town shortly. Requesting backup."

"Unit Charlie Five, backup is en route. Be advised. Chief says to keep distance. Do not engage."

"10-4, Dispatch. Maintaining distance. One mile from town."

Shit. This fucker was headed for town, and there was no damn way I could chase him down Main Street in the middle of the afternoon. There'd be bodies flying through the air if that happened. I'd bet money that fucker knew it too. Since I'd spotted the car, if they were smart, they'd ditch it and either steal another one to get back across or abandon it and cross as pedestrians.

Goddammit.

I slammed my fist against the steering wheel, killed my lights, and drove sedately through town. The radio chatter was kept to a minimum as all available units, admittedly not many on our island, kept an eye out for the battered car.

I hadn't been able to get close enough for a plate, but there couldn't be that many matching the description on the roads. I traveled over a few side streets without much luck. The chief had already sent a unit to the house to get a head start on processing the scene, securing the house, and notifying the owners.

Since I wasn't needed at the house, I decided to head closer to the ferry. The next run was in about twenty minutes. Chief, of course, already had someone over there in case they were stupid enough to try and cross in their original vehicle.

There were some nearby coves with significant overgrowth, which could be a decent place to ditch a car and then walk onto the ferry. After I radioed dispatch where I was headed, I turned the car around and headed south.

Just as I turned onto Briar Cliff Road, I saw a white work truck in the underbrush. It looked like it had lost control and skidded off the road and into the ditch.

"Dispatch, this is Unit Charlie Five, over."

"Go ahead, Unit Charlie Five."

"Initiating stop at the top of Briarcliff. Single MVA, white work truck license plate Bravo Victor Hotel two niner five two. Request backup."

"Copy. En-route. ETA seven minutes."

When I pulled over to the accident, it was difficult to see into the interior. From the looks of it, at least part of the cab was submerged in the murky water.

Fuck. I wouldn't be able to wait for backup. The driver's door was a mangled mess. The passenger side looked marginally better, so I headed in that way. The door frame was still pretty banged up, and as I worked to get the door open, I scraped my arm on a protruding piece of metal.

Shit. That was a tetanus shot. The cut was along the top of my forearm, so I just kept going. The floorboards and half the bench seat were covered by the brackish water of the high tide spillover. I felt my way through, and thankfully, no one was still in there.

The salt water in the cut hurt like a bitch though. When I backed out of the cab, I looked around the water for any hints on where the driver might have ended up. Nothing noticeable was in the water, so I started back up the bank.

When I pulled myself out of the ditch, two men emerged from the tree line. Their jeans were wet and muddy. The older-looking of the two appeared more shaky than the younger one, but neither had visible injuries. They weren't openly carrying weapons, and their hands were visible. It could be a coincidence, but it seemed unlikely.

"Hey, gentlemen, I'm guessing that's your truck in there."

"Yeah, it is." The taller, seemingly older one struggled to maintain eye contact. He was fiddling with his jacket and looking anywhere but me. "We took that curve too fast."

"That curve has been known to take a few people out. You okay? Need an ambulance?"

"Nah, we are waiting for the tow truck," the younger one interjected.

The words hadn't even left his mouth when the two glanced at each other and both rushed me. The impact of their bodies hitting me caused me to stagger back against my car.

"Guess you didn't learn the first time," said one of them as he swung wide for a solid punch and the other tried to grab my arms. I deflected most of the impact, but I caught a little on the tail end. They pushed back when it was clear they weren't getting a decent angle on me. I had at least six inches and fifty pounds before my gear.

"You're on a fucking island. Knock your shit off, and we'll get it sorted," I grunted.

"Fuck you. I whooped your ass once, and I don't mind doing it again. Fucking cops think they are so badass. You went down like a bitch. The old man put up more of a fight."

"Sir, this isn't gonna end well if you want to fight it out," I said as the younger guy made his move.

He darted forward and tried to plow into me. I didn't know what the hell he thought he was going to do. I grabbed his arms to keep him away from my gun, but he was a squirrelly thing. He managed to get an arm free and his fist connected with my jaw. He packed a wallop and my head flew back. That fucker was stronger than he looked. I tried to keep my eye on the other suspect, but he'd headed back toward the truck in the water.

The younger one came at me again, and I laid an uppercut to his face. I got his nose, and the blood gushed over his face and splashed onto me. He tried again to swing back, but I gave one final punch to his solar plexus, and he was laid out on the ground.

Since he wasn't able to move, I dragged him over to the patrol vehicle and threaded my cuffs through the front grill. I put him in the cuffs and locked them into place. It wasn't ideal, but at least he wouldn't be able to grab anything that might be hidden on him.

"Dispatch, Unit Charlie Five. I need backup at the end of Briar Cliff Road. Two suspects. One cuffed. One at large. Over.

"Officers en route. Stay back."

"In pursuit, over.

"Hagen, don't be stupid. Do you copy?"

"In pursuit."

The older suspect hadn't waited around to help his buddy. I ran into the bush like a rookie but damned if this fucker was going to get away. After he'd jumped me, he'd laid out an old man, and that was too much. He'd been fucking with my island long enough. There was no way I'd let him leave this clearing in anything but handcuffs.

When I cleared the tree break, the dumb sonofabitch was just standing there on the levee. I ran straight for him and tackled him to the ground. Like his accomplice, his wiry frame camouflaged muscles. We scuffled back and forth as we each tried to gain the upper hand. We fought for purchase on the wet leaves and underbrush, but it was a challenge for either of us to take control of the fight.

In the distance, I heard the faint sounds of approaching sirens. The suspect heard them too because he redoubled his efforts to take me down. I couldn't safely pull out my taser, so we had to solve it the old-fashioned way.

After a few body blows, I was able to get him to the ground and get his arm trapped behind his back. At this point, if he continued to struggle, he risked a broken arm. I was fine with it, but the paperwork would be a pain in the ass. After a few attempts to buck me off, he settled down, except for running his mouth on the lawsuit he'd be filing for police brutality.

"No worries, sir. I'll let my boss know you want to discuss it with him. In the meantime, we're going to head on over to the hospital to get you checked out before you get booked into jail."

"You can't prove shit."

That one earned a laugh from everyone who had arrived at the scene during our fight. I wasn't too worried about him filing against me, and I'd bet money the truck in the water was probably stolen too.

There'd be plenty of criminal charges to come against him, including assaulting a peace officer and the assault on Mr. Mac. These assholes were going to get some serious time, and I didn't give a single fuck.