Just a Little Series (Part 1)

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Just a Little Series (Part 1) Page 4

by Tracie Puckett

Yesterday played out like any normal day in our household. Charlie would come and go, putting in enough hours at the station to cover more than two shifts within a twenty-four hour period. Matt was up at the crack of dawn, making breakfast and checking in and out of the kitchen every hour to keep up with lunch and dinner prep.

  I, however, put most of my day into planning my next approach in interviewing Luke. He hadn’t seemed eager on Saturday to answer my question about his mother and her time on the force, and even his other answers were pretty tight-lipped. He obviously didn’t want to open up to me, which was fine. All I needed was enough information to prove that I’d actually spent some time putting forth effort. After all, that’s all this project was really about, proving that we could put a little thought into a post-graduation career.

  Who needed to know that I had absolutely no interest in the criminal justice system, or the gun-wielding men who served our community? Okay. Yes. I had a little interest in one man in particular, but that was only because he was the guy who’d be signing off on my hours after all was said and done.

  Or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.

  “You ready for your next two hours of patrol, Little?” Luke asked as I approached the car outside the high school. Dressed in full uniform and leaning against the hood, he crossed his arms in front of his chest and looked on.

  As instructed by Charlie, we’d planned out my first ten hours of shadowing. My first four were already behind me, and next on the agenda were two more. Wednesday would follow with another two hours, and then back to the early morning shift on Saturday for another two, finally finishing up the first half of my job shadowing. While it seemed a bit scattered, it was the only way to fit the hours into both of our schedules.

  “I thought I was meeting you at the station?” I eyed the patrol car. “Or did you feel like you needed to make a big scene and show up at my school, so all of my classmates could watch you force me into the backseat?”

  “Hey, I just thought I’d be a nice guy and save you a walk. But if you want to make the five block trip on foot, be my guest. I’ll drive over there now and wait for you.”

  “Why do you have to be like that?”

  “Be like what?”

  I glared at him, both of us knowing he didn’t need to answer. He knew quite well how he was acting, and part of me had to wonder if he was doing it just to get on my nerves.

  He nudged himself off the front of the car and went around to the side, opening the front passenger door and nodding. “Go on, get in.”

  “In the front?”

  “Unless you want me to make a scene?” We watched each other again for a few drawn seconds. “Are you coming or not?”

  “Yes, sir, Trigger, sir,” I saluted him like a good little soldier.

  He bit his lip and fought a smile, but he turned his head to hide his amusement.

  I climbed in the car and took it upon myself to close the door, not waiting for him to make sure I was securely in place. The last thing I needed was for him to think I needed his help with the simplest of tasks.

  Once in the driver’s seat and cruising down the road, Luke was the first to break the five-minute silence.

  “I was fifteen when my mom died,” he looked straight on at the traffic. “She’d spent years on the force, fighting against the roughest, toughest, and meanest.” He took a moment to collect a breath, so I seized the opportunity and dug through my bag to find my collection of notes. I wrote as he continued. “Most cops in this town go their entire career never having to shoot their gun. Mom was never one of the lucky ones. She always seemed to find herself in the worst situations, but she always managed to fight her way out. She’d be caught in fights, brawls, and accidents left and right, and somehow she managed to walk away free without a scratch every time.”

  “Brave woman,” I said, still waiting on him to make eye contact, but to no avail.

  “She was,” he said, almost proudly. “So, when the doctors told her that the lump in her chest wasn’t benign as we’d all hoped, none of us doubted her strength to pull through. We’d watched her go through so much, what was a little cancer?”

  I felt the uneasiness in my chest grow heavier as he continued the drive.

  “It wasn’t six months after the diagnosis… she was gone. And while I’d always hoped to follow in her footsteps, it only reinforced my decision to go into law enforcement. I had to carry on the legacy she started.”

  I took my eyes off of him and took a moment to make a few notes, but nothing relating to his story; it was just a little reminder of how short life is, and how maybe I’d been selfish to think that I was the only one who’d lost someone special.

  “And that’s why you joined the force?”

  “That’s why I joined the force.” We stopped at an intersection, and the only sound filling the air was the ticking of the turn signal as we waited for the light change. Before I could appreciate what it meant for him to share such a personal story, he broke the silence again. “So you can understand why I think this assignment is a bit of a joke.”

  And in one fell swoop, he lost every ounce of sympathy he’d just gained.

  “Luke—”

  “Mom would’ve laughed in Chief’s face if he’d given her this assignment.”

  I shook my head and shoved my notebook back into my bag. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

  “Me?” he asked. “You’re the one who’s been given a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn valuable life lessons, and you’re treating it as lightly as you would a day on the beach. I would’ve killed for this experience as a teenager, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it. Some kids don’t get as lucky as you, Julie. And it drives me crazy to see privileged brats like you getting everything handed to them, and then for you to just squander it.”

  His eyes darted to me and then back to the road, making my face flush red with heat. I’d never in my life met someone so infuriating. Who did he think he was, talking to me like that?

  “You think I’m lucky?” I asked, knowing there was no way Luke could’ve known my story. Had he known, he wouldn’t have said those things so freely. “Ha! If I’ve had good luck in life, I’d hate to see the kids who haven’t had it all handed to them.” I looked at him long enough to see him lower his brow, but he continued the drive and never let on for a moment that my words had fazed him.

  “Well,” I finally said after we’d ridden in silence for another five minutes, “I suppose I should thank you for painting such a colorful picture. It’ll add a nice little human interest to my report, right before the paragraph where I discuss that—while I’ve always had a slight distaste for men in uniform—it was Officer Lucas Reibeck who put the final nail in the coffin. No more police work for me, no sir.”

  He didn’t respond. He kept his eyes straight forward, acting as though I was nothing more than a fly on the wall. My presence meant nothing to him, and that only irritated me more.

  “You’re all the same, you know that?” I hoped to strike a nerve. “Every one of you—you egotistical, self-indulgent cops! You say you do this to serve and protect, but the only thing you’re protecting is your ego—”

  “Julie!” he yelled, silencing me in a heartbeat. “Stop talking.”

  Ten minutes ticked by at snail speed, increasing the tension and thickening the air with pent-up anger from both of us. He drove to the edge of town and pulled off into a dirt siding.

  “Get out,” he said, still looking away from me.

  “What?”

  “Get—out—of—the—car,” he leaned across my lap and opened the door. “Now.”

  I watched the anger burn in his eyes for a few fiery moments, took my bag from the floor, and did as I was told.

  I stepped off into the dirt and shut the door, waiting for the tires to spin, and for Luke to disappear around the bend. But he didn’t leave. As soon as my door clicked shut, his opened, and he stepped out of the car. He adjusted his belt and met m
e on the roadside.

  “Follow me.”

  He turned and walked off into the thick woods. I stood firmly in place and watched him leave. After a few seconds of standing alone, he turned back and looked at me blankly. “Are you coming or not?”

  I looked at the car and back to him. “Are you going to shoot me?”

  Though he fought to restrain a smirk, his amusement came through clear as day.

  “What makes you think I’d want to shoot you?” he asked, coming back to meet me on the edge of the road.

  “Your blatant hatred for me,” I said, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “That… and you do have a history of shooting unsuspecting victims.”

  “Alright, stop,” he lost the edge in his voice. “Just follow me.”

  FIVE

 

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