Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set (8 page)

“
How’s it feel being cut loose?” he asks. “Think you can handle the job?”

I blink at his unexpected question, then nod wordlessly. I finished third in my class at the police academy and I sailed through my 90-day training period once I was hired. And I just helped diffuse a tense situation on a family trouble call a couple of days ago. I kept my head and talked down a kid with a gun aimed at his brother’s chest. Yeah, I think maybe I can handle the job. I hope so anyway. “Yeah,” I respond a little shyly to Parson’s question, “I think I can.”

He nods slowly at me. “We think you can too, Guy. Some of us were a little surprised when you hired on, and I don’t mean that in a bad way, kid. Although we did wonder what the hell possessed you to pursue this line of work. But we’ve been watching you, and we’re impressed with what we’ve seen.”

I don’t know what to say. I stare back at him in silence and disbelief and I’m not sure why exactly, but his words mean a lot to me.

“
We wanted you to come tonight because it’s important to us that you understand that the past is the past.” He speaks to me in that same levelheaded tone that he always used with me as a kid and his eyes are burning with sincerity. I get the feeling he’s waiting on a response from me so I nod at him.

“
Yes, sir,” I say quietly.

He chuckles. “Don’t start calling me sir; you’ll make me feel ancient.” Then he falls serious again and says, “Just remember what I’ve said.”

I nod again and take a deep breath as I glance around the yard. And as I do, I notice that most of the guys are looking over at us. Some of them smile at me, others raise their beers to me. I return the gesture and take a swig. Yeah … I guess they do remember me after all.

“
So, you still into cars, Guy?” Marcos asks with a smile.

I turn back to him and smile. We talk then about much less intense matters for a while, and by the time I’m ready to leave a couple of hours later, I feel much more at ease. I feel accepted. And I feel relieved to know that these guys all remember the gory details of my shitty past but they don’t care. And suddenly I know why their acceptance means so much to me. Before I get up to leave, I look at Parson and Marcos.

“
You guys wondered what possessed me to become a cop,” I say quietly. I glance around the yard again and then back at them. “It’s a real simple answer,” I shrug. “You guys were my heroes back then. You still are.” Then I stand and leave.

~~~~~~~~

I smile to myself at the memory now. The nickname, Guy, just sort of stuck. All the old timers took to calling me that around the station and before I knew it, everyone else had joined in. I don’t really care though. It’s just a name. As long as it’s only me and the old timers who know where it came from, it makes me no difference.

And I’ve been coming to these things ever since. Whenever the old timers get together, I always get an invite. There are a handful of other younger guys who are invited now too, a few of the ones I hired on with, but not many. The old guys say it’s because most of the younger generation of cops don’t really adhere to the age-old belief that your fellow cops are your family and instead they just see it as a nine-to-five job. I guess I agree with them to a point. The days of everyone knowing each other’s spouse and the names of all your kids is quickly fading. Although some of us younger guys do get together every now and then. We go to a bar and have a couple of drinks, usually after a particularly bad or intense day. But it’s nothing like the choir practice of old.

I’m finishing up a plate of ribs and potato salad when Parson brings his plate over and sits across from me. “You look deep in thought,” he says before digging into his ribs.

I smile at him. “I was just thinking about the first time I came to one of these things.”

He nods with a smile and takes a moment to swallow his mouthful. “I think about that night often,” he says.

“You do?” I look at him with a puzzled expression.

He nods slowly and then looks me in the eye. “It’s not every day you find out that you been some kid’s hero all his life,” he says quietly, a hint of pride in his voice. I’m taken aback by his words and I say nothing as he takes another bite of his ribs. I smile slightly and drink my beer.

“You know,” he says, chewing his barbeque, “there’s a Sergeant’s exam coming up soon, kid. You should really think about taking it.”

I frown at him. “What the hell for?”

He gives me his serious, fatherly expression, looking me in the eye. “Because you’d make a great supervisor, son. And you’d be a damn fine example and mentor to all of these young snots coming up that don’t know their own asses from a hole in the wall. That’s ‘what the hell for.’ Not to mention the fact that it’s a slightly higher pay grade. Don’t dismiss the idea without thinking about it.”

I blink at his words, still frowning slightly. Sergeant Pierce? Yeah, right, I’ll think about it.
Not!

“So,” he says, changing the subject, “when are you gonna find a nice girl and settle down, Guy?”

Jeez, what am I wearing a fucking neon sign today that says
“Hassle me about women”?
First Conner and now Parson. “Uh … that would be never,” I reply wiping the sauce from my hands with a paper towel.

“Never,” he responds with a surprised look on his face. “Well, I know you don’t play for the other team. Your ability to pick up the best looking girl in any bar in under a minute is all but legendary,” he says with a chuckle. “So what’s with the reluctance?”

“Did Conner put you up to this?” I say with an annoyed scowl.

“Put me up to what?” he answers. And now he’s looking at me suspiciously.

I roll my eyes and give him a look that says I don’t want to have this conversation but, I know that I can’t shake him. Detective Lee Parson has been like a mentor to me my entire career, the closest thing I’ve had to a father figure since…

I halt that unwelcome thought in its tracks and sigh as I glance around to make sure no one else is in earshot. Then I look at Parson and say, “Come on, Lee. You know all the shit that went down in my house growing up. You, of all people, should understand that I don’t want to repeat that shit. You guys were at our fucking house nearly every night!”

He looks at me as if he’s surprised by my words. “Is that what you think, Guy?” His voice is low and I can tell that he’s shocked by what I’ve just said. “That if you fall in love, you’ll automatically become your old man?”

His words make me immediately angry and I can feel my jaw tighten and my hands fist on either side of my empty plate. “It’s not exactly a secret that I’ve got his temper,” I say through clenched teeth.

It’s something I’ve been actively working on all of my adult life. There were some flare ups during the early days of my career, a few rows in the locker room with other cops. Not something I’m proud of. Not like the scrapes on the street when I was still in uniform and we’d go on a call where some dirtbag was roughing up his wife or his girlfriend. I fucking hate that shit. So, I’d give him a small taste of his own medicine. Those run-ins, I am kinda proud of.

“Yeah, maybe so,” Lee responds with a nod. “But you’ve also got your mother’s sensibility and all those years’ worth of memories that you’re so haunted by. Not to mention ten stellar years on the job to help guide your way.”

I say nothing as I stare at him, unseeing, and slowly shake my head. “I can’t risk it, Lee.”

He looks at me long and hard, and when he speaks again, his voice is full of sadness. “Then I feel sorry for you, son.” I gasp quietly. I’m shocked at his words and he continues. “I thought, after all this time, that you had really put the past and what happened to your old man behind you but, I guess I was wrong.”

“How can I ever put it behind me, Lee?” I ask incredulously. “Do you honestly think a day goes by that I don’t remember what happened? What I did?”

“You did what you had to do, kid!”

I say nothing and take a long swig of my beer. I know he’s right, but the memories suddenly bombarding my mind make me sick. I am fighting them back when he says to me, “That son of a bitch made your life a living hell when you were a kid, Guy. Don’t let him have that same power over your future too. You. Are. Not. Him.”

“I gotta go,” I say quietly and he just looks at me. “Tell Turner I said thanks for the ribs.”

“You think about what I said, Guy.” His voice is stern. Like a father’s would be.

I nod silently, looking down at my empty plate once again. “I will,” I promise. Then I get up and walk through the house, breathing a silent sigh of relief the moment I step outside. I have never been so happy to get away from choir practice before. I slide behind the wheel of my Charger and slowly pull into traffic, my head swimming with the dueling images of my parents fighting and Samantha Colby’s smile.

Chapter Five

Samantha

I have never been so happy to see my brother before! Heck, I’ve never been so happy to see anything before. My short stint with blindness seems to have affected me profoundly and, as Lucas and I drive over to the police impound lot to retrieve my car, I am looking out the window in wonder. It is unusually warm for September in Seattle. Much warmer than the typical high sixties that we normally see. And there is still plenty of sun and the trees are still lush and full and green. Everything feels vibrant and alive and I feel a small frisson of zeal run through me, as if part of me is expecting something exciting to happen. Who knew that getting released from the hospital could inspire such joy? I smile to myself as I continue to look out the window, grooving to Corinne Bailey Rae as she sings on the radio, and watch a small group of children playing in a park. They look as if they haven’t a care in the world and I envy them. They don’t have to worry about things like muggings and stolen cars and black, swollen eyes.

“Are you listening to me, Sam?” Lucas’ voice cuts through my groove and my idle thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m listening,” I lie. He glances over at me with a smirk and then back at the road. “Sorry,” I mumble. “What were you saying?”

“Oh, nothing important,” he responds sarcastically, rolling his pale green eyes at me. “Just giving you details about the locksmith and your new keys and such. But watching the kids on the playground is much more important.”

I roll my eyes at him. And then I marvel at how good it feels to be able to roll my eyes at him and I smile. I am such a dork! “I’m sorry, Lucas. It just feels really good to be able to see everything,” I offer apologetically and he smiles at me. “But thank you for taking care of the locksmith and driving me to the DMV to get my new ID and everything. I really appreciate it. You didn’t have to give up your Saturday just to take care of me; I could have done this on my own.”

“It’s not a problem, Sam,” he says with a small smile. “I just want to know that you’re settled and okay. Besides, you would’ve had fun fighting your way through that small throng of paparazzi outside the hospital on your own.”

I groan at his words because I know that he’s right. I can’t believe there were sleazy photographers trying to get pictures of me leaving the hospital. How did they even know I was being discharged this morning and why does anyone care? It’s not like I’m some famous actress or anything, I’m the daughter of a much beloved dead billionaire. That doesn’t make me front page news.

“And Mom would have a fit if I told her I was letting you handle all this on your own,” Lucas is saying. “Anyway, I was saying that the locksmith gave me three copies of the new key. There’s the one I just gave you, and I kept one. Just for emergencies.”

He looks at me as if he expects me to protest but I just nod at him. I like the idea of him having an extra key to my place. Just in case I lock myself out or something, which has been known to happen in the past. “Okay.”

“I left the third key on your kitchen counter. You might want to keep it someplace handy, where it’s always with you. Just in case you lock yourself out again,” he says with another roll of his eyes, and I smile.

“It happened one time,” I say indignantly.

As we pull into the police impound lot I get a wave of butterflies at the errant thought that I might see Detective Pierce, but I know that’s unlikely. I’m certain he has much better things to do than sit around an impound lot waiting for me to show up to collect my car.

Freeing my car from police custody is a surprisingly hassle-free affair, and when I slip behind the wheel I am comforted by the sense of familiarity. I take a moment to look around, checking the glove box and the console. I don’t know what I’m looking for. Just reassuring myself that all is right with the world, I guess. Only I know, in the back of my mind, that all is not right. I know that somewhere out there, someone has my ID and my keys, and what he’s planning to do with them, I have no idea. I try not to think about it. I tell myself that it’s all a moot point now because my locks have been changed and he can’t get to me anymore. The police checked out my apartment a couple of days ago and Lucas was there just yesterday to supervise the locksmith so, everything is just fine.

I pull out of the impound lot and drive directly to the market. The same market where I was assaulted on Tuesday night. Lucas tried to talk me out of it but, I just feel like it’s something I have to do. I don’t want to be one of those people who becomes the victim of a violent crime and then allows that incident to paralyze their entire life. I want to move past this and get on with it. I don’t want to give this creep, whoever he is, the power to ruin my life. I refuse to be a victim.

As I pull into a parking spot and turn off the car, I can feel my breathing quicken. My heart is pounding and my palms are sweating. And I slowly become aware that I am gripping the steering wheel fiercely. I look down at my hands and see that my knuckles are white. And I jump as least a foot when someone taps on my driver’s door window. Rolling down the window with an irate frown, I grumble, “What are you doing, Lucas? You scared me half to death!”