Joy and Tiers Read Free

I already own. There's your crime-fighting dollars at work, America.”
    “Hey now!” I protest. “That was a low blow. I don’t tell you how to do your job, please don’t tell me how to do mine.”
    “Well, Cowboy, it just so happens, I don’t like big strong men telling me what to do, and I don’t like being treated like I’m an idiot,” Heather argues.
    “For the record, I wasn’t treating you like you’re an idiot. Nothing could be further from the truth,” I reply, my voice rough with emotion. This conversation is hitting more hot buttons than she could ever imagine. However, I can’t take the time to explain them to her right now. Right now, she needs to get the hell out of here. For all I know, there is still a shooter at large. She needs to get her pretty little butt out of the picture. “I’m sorry I don’t have time for a long, drawn-out debate over this, but I’ll say it once again. Heather, please—for your safety—get into my car so that I don’t have to worry about you. If I have to worry about you, I’m not watching my own back, and it makes it more dangerous for me.”
    “Why didn’t you just tell me that in the beginning?” Heather replies. “I don’t want to do anything to put you at risk.” She silently picks up her purse, and her keys. She regally walks over to my squad car and gracefully climbs inside as if it’s something she does every day.
    I shake my head in disbelief. That's classic Heather. She’ll balk at anything designed for her well-being, but if it’s to benefit someone else, she’s on it faster than ticks on a wet dog. I radio the call into headquarters and go to the trunk of my car to get my thermos.
    “You want some coffee? It’s cold out here,” I offer, handing her the metal lid of the thermos.
    She nods as she says, “Thank you, that’s sweet of you.”
    She takes a tentative sip and wrinkles her nose at the bitter taste. “I take it back. What is this? A new interrogation technique? Who taught you to make coffee? Just a small chef’s secret...you shouldn’t be able to chew your coffee. The next time we’re together, I’ll teach you to make a decent cup.”
    “Wow! Way to be grateful—” I tease, but then I take a sip of my coffee, and I have to admit that she’s got a point. It’s beyond terrible. “I’ll have you know, Uncle Sam taught me to make coffee. You can blame it all on him. The swill doesn’t have to be good; it just has to keep you awake and alert. I guess I just never got out of the habit of making it that way. You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to.”
    “No,” Heather replies after she takes another sip. “It’s not so bad after you know what to expect. I’ll need the extra caffeine anyway. It’s going to be a long night for me. I have a hunch I’m going to be making flowers—lots and lots of flowers. After drinking this ... um ... coffee, I’ll be up for three days straight. It’s a win-win for everybody.” Heather shoots me her trademark smile, complete with dimples.
    Before I can say anything else, the evidence van pulls up into the driveway. I’m relieved when I see who the technicians are. Javier is one of the best guys we’ve got on latent fingerprints and ballistics, and he takes some of the clearest pictures in the business. If this ever goes to court, the evidence will be rock solid.
    As the forensic team starts to walk up to the house, I hear Javier call out to Heather, “Hey Miss H. How are things in your world?”
    For some reason, his casual familiarity with Heather raises my hackles. He’s already got the perfect family at home. What more does he want? But then I remember back to the day that we all met. It was an unforgettable day to be sure. There was a big verbal dust-up with Jeff’s soon-to-be stepfather.
    No one got hurt, but I did assist in the arrest that would ultimately lead to the unraveling of Jeff’s family life, as he knew it. Surprisingly, Jeff seems totally okay with