Page 8 of Her Protector Daddies

I nodded and kept my eyes locked on him as he reached into his pants pocket and removed his wallet. He passed his ID over to me. At a glance he was telling the truth about his name at least. I passed it over my shoulder to Trask.

“Have control run the information on the house, see if it matches.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Hank, I’m Officer Lamb and that’s my partner, Officer Trask. I need to confirm your story, and then we’ll get out of your hair,” I explained.

Hank nodded and ran a trembling hand through his short brown hair. “You guys scared the hell out of me. I thought you were supposed to announce yourself before entering?”

“Not in home invasion cases where the perpetrator might still be on the property. In that case, we have to announce as soon as we come across someone,” I said, resting my hands on my belt.

“Where’s your wife?”

“Oh, she’s— she’s at dinner with her sister. Where I’m supposed to be if I hadn’t locked myself out,” Hank groaned.

Two minutes later, Trask appeared at my elbow. “Info checks out.” He handed the ID back to me and I passed it back to Hank.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Forsythe. We have to make sure.”

“No problem,” he said, smiling widely with relief clear across his face. “I understand.”

“Next time, though? Just call the locksmith.”

Leaving Hank to deal with the surprise of two unannounced Police Officers showing up at his door, Trask and I made our exit and headed back to the car as I pulled out my radio.

“Control, this is 7-Adam-15, show us code 4. The 459 was just the homeowner using a creative way to get around a lost key.”

“Roger.”

“Idiot,” Trask mutters when we approach our car.

“Who, Hank?”

“Yeah. Getting caught breaking into your own home has to be on the list of dumbest shit I’ve seen. And it happens far too often.”

“He wasn’t breaking in,” I reminded him, opening my door. “He lives there. You’re telling me you’ve never had to do something suspicious to get back into your home or even your car?”

“Nope! Never lost my keys, not even once.”

“Good for you, I guess,” I snorted.

Trask slapped his hand down on the roof of the car and pointed at me. “Is that why you got demoted? You lost something big and did something shitty to try and get it back?”

All my hope that Trask would drop the conversation for the day fizzled up instantly. I was half tempted to give him a lame excuse but even that carried its risks. I was supposed to be slotted back into Patrol like a ghost, completely inconspicuous, but I’d been paired with one of the nosiest fuckers at the station.

“I slept with the Chief’s wife,” I said and slid into the car.

Trask followed immediately, gaping at me as he buckled in. “You didn’t. Did you? Holy shit, did you? No, no you didn’t.”

I chuckled to myself at his indecision and started the car. Just as we pulled away from the curb, another report crackled through the radio.

“7-Adam-13, a 415 reported by a neighbor at 2519 Ocean View Avenue. The closest unit is still caught up in a previous call. Can you assist?”

“Fuck no,” Trask groaned. “That’s too far out.”

2519 Ocean View Avenue. Why was that address so familiar? Just as Trask reached for the radio to respond, the address clicked so sharply in my mind that a physical ache shot through my temple. I snatched the radio from him, ignoring his indignant cry.

“7-Adam-13, show responding.”

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