Maybe Swearing Will Help

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  -Ashe’s secret thoughts

  Ashe

  The very next day I went and applied to the Kilgore Police Department.

  Before I could so much as leave with my application, though, the front desk attendant stopped me from leaving.

  “Wait, is your name Ashe?” she asked.

  I frowned. “Yes.”

  “Oh, great.” The woman smiled beautifully. “This is perfect. Ford said you might come by. Chief told me that Ford had someone coming in. You’re a popular girl today. Chief said if you did, to take you straight to him.”

  I blinked. “I’m sorry, but what?”

  “Luke.” She stood up and pressed a button as she did. “Go ahead and follow the hall back. I’ll meet you at the first door and show you to his office.”

  I did as she said, feeling kind of numb.

  I didn’t want this to be this way.

  I wanted to do this all on my own merits. I wanted to apply. I wanted to not have anything to do with the chief of police—who just happened to be my uncle.

  I followed the woman with a feeling of dread rising up in my throat.

  Flashes of everything I ever did wrong in my life followed directly behind me like a loaded train.

  That time that Ford made me steal a piece of bubblegum from a store when I was twelve.

  The time that he made me break into a house with him when we were fourteen because his buddy had all the good snacks, and he wanted some.

  Oh, and the time that I accidentally stole a brisket from a store because it was on the bottom of the cart and the cart boy had loaded it up without me paying attention.

  My dad had cooked it and told me thank you all before I’d even realized that I’d stolen it.

  Needless to say, by the time that I arrived at Luke’s office, I’d fairly convinced myself to make a run for it.

  I would have, too, had I not seen Ford’s laughing face as he watched me walk by him.

  I narrowed my eyes at him when he saw the look of fear on my face.

  “Good luck, Slag,” he teased, mouthing the words across the small room.

  Slag.

  The worst of the nicknames that he called me.

  Out of them all—Soot, Ember, Slag, and Smut—Slag was my least favorite.

  He knew it, too.

  “Here you are,” the lady said. “Chief, I have Ashe Trammel for you.”

  The graying/blonde older man that looked pissed as hell looked up from the papers that were in his big fist.

  He had a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose that made him even more handsome, and he had a smile to die for.

  “Thanks, Donna,” Luke said. “Come on in, Ashe.”

  He put the papers down onto his desk and leaned back, his eyes taking me in as I walked into his office.

  I suddenly felt silly for wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

  “Benton Fire Department?” he asked, reading the shirt.

  I nodded once.

  “My dad works for them,” I answered. “As you know. I had no clue I was getting a meeting with the top dog, or I would’ve dressed a little more appropriately.”

  He grinned.

  “We’re pretty informal here,” he teased, leaning back in his chair. “Even the cops that we have on staff wear black cargo pants and black polos. It’s too fuckin’ hot in Texas to wear anything else,” he paused. “Pardon my French.”

  I snorted. “My dad is a firefighter and part of a motorcycle club,” I told him. “I’m fairly sure that I’ve heard it all from the Dixie Wardens. Not to mention, I’ve heard you say worse at home.”

  He grinned.

  “How’s Tru doing?” he asked. “Reese hasn’t talked to her in about an hour and a half. I’ve not gotten an update.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “She told me that I should come up here and blow your socks off,” I admitted. “I told her that I was staying away from you because I wanted to do this the right way. Which is not going through the chief of police to get a job.”

  “Honestly, it took me a bit to realize that it was you that Ford was talking about,” he admitted. “I was under the assumption that he hated you.”

  I snorted, “He does.”

  Uncle Luke sighed, then addressed the elephant in the room.

  “I won’t address you by Ashe here. I’ll call you Trammel,” he said. “That way nobody thinks there’s any favoritism going on.”

  I let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”

  He winked. “I heard there’s a big party this weekend.”

  I shrugged.

  “It’s small, from what I understand,” I answered. “With everyone’s kids gone, they tend to just go on long motorcycle rides instead of having any parties. Now that they’re ‘free’ and no longer ‘forced’ to be at home with their children.”

  I gave finger quotes at the word ‘forced,’ causing him to chuckle all over again.

  “Forced might be the wrong word to use,” he said. “We realize that y’all are gifts and all, but you were a lot of work.”

  I scoffed. “I was a perfect angel.”

  His eyes sparkled.

  “The last time that I went to a party, you and ‘GMC’ lit each other on fire,” he said, sobering slightly. “Will you and Ford be able to get along well enough to work together?”

  I scrunched up my nose. “That setting each other on fire thing was totally him. He was trying to light the bonfire, and a cinder flew up and got caught in my hair. I’d been wearing a lot of hairspray that day because I’d curled my hair, and the stuff just went up like a bottle rocket. He helped me put it out, but in the meantime spilled gasoline all over himself. Yeah… let’s just say that it wasn’t a good day for either of us. I had to cut seven inches off of my hair after that.”

  I touched my hair and grimaced.

  That day had been awful.

  My hair had been down to my waist.

  “That’s why my hair is gray, you know,” I said out of the blue.

  He looked at it.

  “That’s not fake?” he asked. “My wife told me it was all the rage.”

  I snorted. “No. All this gray hair comes courtesy of Ford Spurlock.” I paused. “But we’re adults now, so the shenanigans will be held at a minimum while we’re at work. I solemnly swear.”

  He grinned. “He told me that you were graduating soon. Reese didn’t make it sound like it was that close.”

  I nodded.

  “I have the rest of this semester to finish, which is about two more weeks, then next, and I’ll be officially done with my master’s degree in criminal psychology,” I answered his next question before he’d even asked it.

  His lips twitched.

  “What do you hope to accomplish with that degree?” he asked.

  I leaned back in my chair and stared at him. He’d asked me this very same question before.

  Multiple times.

  Each time I gave him the same exact answer.

  Only this time I decided to give him the real reason.

  “Have you ever watched the show How to Get Away With Murder?” I wondered.

  He shrugged.

  “What about Law and Order?”

  He nodded once. “A long time ago, maybe. Back when it was new. I haven’t watched in years, though.”

  I nodded. “I want to be the person that the cops come to when they need to find a serial killer. I want to dig into a criminal’s mind and find out why they do what they do. And then I want to use those things I learn to help solve unsolved mysteries all over the world.”

  Luke crossed his arms over his chest and nodded for me to keep going.

  “There’s this one unsolved murder that I’ve been trying to solve for a very long time,” I said. “Well, I say solve it. I’ve been thinking about it non-stop since I was a kid. Have you ever heard of Highway to Haughton?”

  Luke frowned. “No.”

  �
�What about Hell to Haughton?” I said.

  “Now that one,” he said, grimacing, “I have heard of. The stretch of about ten miles of Interstate Twenty where the young teen girls keep showing up dead? The ones where they don’t have a single drop of blood in their bodies, and they’re sitting on the chair right beside mile markers?”

  I nodded. “That one!”

  “I know more than most,” Luke said. “Since I’m law enforcement. But since it’s in Louisiana, it’s never really been my jurisdiction. They had one not too long ago, right?”

  I was already nodding. “About four weeks ago. Yes.”

  “And that was what made you want to be a criminal psychologist?” he asked.

  “My friend in high school was one of his victims,” I said softly.

  He knew that I had a friend die, and I thought he might know how, but Luke was a busy man.

  “His?” he asked.

  I sighed. “I think it’s a him, yes.”

  “What makes you think it’s a him?” he wondered.

  “I’ve watched a lot of murder mysteries, tons of documentaries, spent the last seven years studying to be a criminal psychologist, and I just have this gut feeling that it’s a man.” I shrugged. “I’m probably wrong as f… I’m probably wrong. But… like I said. Just a feeling.”

  His lips twitched.

  “Feelings are good,” he said. “They keep you alive.” He stood up and walked to a filing cabinet behind his desk.

  He pulled out a sheaf of papers, then turned around and handed them to me.

  “If you want to, go ahead and fill those out. Now, if you have time,” he said. “We can get this process started. We have a police academy that starts in a month. It’s a three-week, five-days-a-week course that you’ll have to pass to be able to enter the police department. You also have to have a sponsor to attend, which I’ll be more than willing to do with you.” He sat back. “How are your grades with the criminal psychologist degree?”

  “Four point oh,” I answered distractedly as I read over the forms quickly.

  “No shit?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t really have a life. I work at a cat shelter on the weekends and sometimes during the week. But other than that, I’m boring. I go to school, come home, study. Then I go to sleep, wake up and repeat. Boring.”

  He laughed quietly. “Boring is pretty good if you ask me.”

  My eyes shone.

  Then I started to fill out my application.

  It was toward the end of the process that I thought I should tell him what my other reason for applying was.

  “I’m also interested in becoming a SWAT team member,” I said, informing him of my desires.

  He blinked. “You want to be on the SWAT team?”

  I paused, wondering if I should disclose what I really wanted to do.

  Then decided, Luke Roberts was a really nice man.

  I should tell him my true intentions.

  “Honestly?” I said. “I’m not totally interested in becoming part of the team. I’m interested in getting Ford to pose for the calendar so that he’ll donate to my charity.”

  Luke blinked again.

  Then smiled.

  “So all I have to let you do is try out? Then you’ll consider staying?” he asked.

  I frowned. “What do you mean I’ll consider staying?”

  He gestured toward me.

  “You’re in your last year for a master’s in your criminal psychologist degree,” he told me bluntly. “When Ford said that you were coming, at first I wasn’t interested in playing this game. But then he told me what you were going to school for, and I became interested.”

  My lips twitched.

  “I was going to move to Dallas after this,” I told him honestly. “They have better job prospects, better pay, and I could work for multiple organizations.”

  Luke nodded as if he completely understood exactly why I would do that.

  “I did some talking with Longview PD, Tyler PD, Shreveport PD, and a few other smaller agencies in the area. We’re interested in sharing you. Your home base would be here, though. Your first priority is Kilgore. They’d be more than willing to pay you extra for your services. And we have great benefits, and excellent retirement,” he countered.

  I felt my mouth drop slightly open.

  “Umm,” I said, thinking that was more than I could’ve ever asked for.

  “There’s been talk about hiring one for years,” he said. “The thing is, we’re kind of small potatoes, and when the opportunity ever arises that we’re in need of someone with your skills, we just call in for help. We’re loaned one from another department. I’d be more than willing to use you as needed, as well as keep you busy as a detective when you’re not needed.”

  I frowned. “I’ve never really… I’m not experienced.”

  “You’ve taken a lot of schooling,” he said bluntly. “You’ve gone through all the courses that we would require of our detectives anyway. And, from what I gather, you’re not really interested in being a cop as much as utilizing your degree.”

  I blew out a breath.

  “I’m going to fill this out. Then I’m going to go through the academy when it starts. Following that… I’ll get back to you. I don’t want to step on anybody’s toes,” I admitted.

  He snorted. “This is my department, honey. If they didn’t want me making decisions, they should’ve found someone else to fill these shoes.”

  Chapter 3

  Not sure why the detectives of KPD are mostly guys. A woman’s ability to find shit out is unmatched.

  -Ashe’s secret thoughts

  Ashe

  One month later

  The first day, in the very first minute, was the moment that I knew that I made the wrong decision.

  “What do you mean he already did the photoshoot?” I asked in confusion.

  “It says here that calendar sales have gone through the roof,” my mom said. “On their Facebook page. Will you go buy me four or five?”

  “Dad’s not gonna want a calendar up on his wall of Ford.” I commented.

  She snickered. “Maybe not, but I’m going to have it anyway.”

  My dad would give my mom absolutely anything. Even allow her to have pictures of guys half her age on the kitchen wall.

  “But anyway, how excited are you for your first day at police academy?” she asked, momentarily bringing me back to the topic at hand.

  “I’m not excited, per se,” I said. “More like anxious. I’m not really sure that I want to go. But I made that bet with Ford… which, might I add, seems stupid now that the photoshoot has already been done.”

  My mother chuckled. “Didn’t you promise him a date? Maybe he just really wanted a date with you enough that he lied.”

  I snorted.

  “Mother,” I said. “Last week, I saw Ford with some beauty queen. She had a head full of long, red hair that fell softly down her back in waves. She had beautiful lips and perky tits. And she was about eleven feet tall in five-inch heels. Trust me when I say, I’m not his type.”

  My mom giggled. “I don’t think Ford even knows what his type is.”

  He might not, but I knew that I wasn’t it.

  At five-foot-three and a half, I was below average in height. I had gray fucking hair that I’d thought about dying a normal color about eight million times. I had thighs and ass for days, but my boobs were nothing to write home about.

  Oh, and I had freckles. A lot of them.

  Standing next to Ford, I felt like a frumpy loser.

  Ashe: I thought the calendar shoot wasn’t until the next month?

  Ford: That’s what you get for thinking.

  Ashe: You were always going to do the shoot, weren’t you?

  Ford: Yes. But I wasn’t going to donate to your charity. I was going to donate to something else. Probably a dog charity.

  Ashe: You’re such a dick.
r />   Ford: I have a dick, so that’s not so bad of a comparison.

  Ashe: Oh, by the way. I put you as an emergency contact on my phone. If I have what the watch considers a ‘hard fall,’ it contacts you before contacting medical services. Just FYI. I didn’t think it was a good idea to put my parents when they’re so far away.

  The real reason that I put Ford was that, despite his annoyance for me, he still had my back just as I had his. I was fairly sure that I was listed as one of his emergency contacts as well.

  “I’m sorry, but is this class interrupting your social time?” a snotty, not amused at all, male voice asked.

  I looked up from my phone to see a man standing at the front of the room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, looking at me as if I’d just committed the ultimate faux pas.

  I raised my arm up and stared at my watch.

  It was fourteen minutes until eight. I still had fourteen minutes until the class was supposed to start.

  “I apologize,” I said, placing my phone down on the tabletop in front of me. “I thought the class started at eight.”

  I looked around to see the room about half filled with students. Way less than the thirty that Luke had quoted as being there.

  Just as I thought that, two other students trickled in, unaware of the tension in the room rising.

  “I’m sorry, but are you the instructor?” teacher man asked.

  I raised a brow and didn’t answer.

  “I’m talking to you. That requires an answer,” Asshole said.

  I narrowed my eyes so that I could see his name that was embroidered on his shirt.

  Patman. Sergeant Patman.

  Yay.

  “No, I’m not an instructor,” I said simply.

  “I didn’t think so,” he snapped. “And there are no cell phones in this classroom. If you’d like to text, please feel free to stay outside and do so.”

  I barely contained the urge to roll my eyes.

  I didn’t think he’d appreciate my attitude right now.

  And seeing as I had to deal with this motherfucker for the next three weeks while I went through the police academy, I felt it prudent not to piss him off more than I already had.

  Pushing the phone into my pocket, I crossed my arms over my chest and barely refrained from reading the text message that vibrated my watch on my wrist.