Page 82 of Anchor Point

“Oh, Mom, can we go to The Mercantile? They have a carving of a boat that I know Mac will love.”

I followed her into the store, picking up a book that I thought he might also like.

“I can’t wait until you guys make things official, and I can tell the world,” Rosie said as we left the store and headed toward the coffee shop.

I grinned because I was as ready to brag as she was. Having to keep our relationship status secret was the only damper to the otherwise joyous weekend.

Across the courtyard, Thoren exited the courthouse, pulling a cap low on his forehead. Hoping that his girlfriend Kylie and her friends might be around, I called his name. I dragged Rosie with me and tried to catch up to him.

“Thoren,” I called.

He slowed, looking over his shoulder.

“Is Kylie with you?”

He turned then, looking somewhere over my shoulder. “Nope.” The muscle in his jaw ticked as his gaze lit briefly on me before shifting to Rosie.

“This your daughter?” His voice was off.

He tugged his cap lower on his forehead before shoving his hands in his coat pockets.

Beside me, Rosie laughed. “Of course, silly. Don’t act like you don’t know who I am because I kicked your butt at pool the last time I was at the station.”

Thoren shuffled, watching his feet, the cap blocking my full view of his face. “You got me.”

“Well, tell Kylie I said hello, please.”

He nodded and turned to leave without a goodbye.

“Weird,” Rosie complained.

Something didn’t sit right with me over the exchange either. “Yeah.” I watched him until he blended in with the rest of the evening crowd.

“Let’s go down this block next.” Rosie tugged me along behind her, Thoren already forgotten.

Minutes later, a loud boom sounded from the direction of the courthouse, and people began running out of the historic building.

I hauled Rosie to the corner and pushed her back to the brick side of the building, out of the way of the chaos.

I needed a radio, and I needed it now. Instead, I called 911 on their direct line.

“This is Chief Hawkins,” I yelled into the phone. Fuck professional. Fuck calm. This chaos was real.

“I’m downtown, and there’s been an explosion of some kind at the courthouse,” I yelled over the screams as people ran by me. The building had been open for tours, and there was no telling how many people were injured.

“10-4, 1201. We’ve received multiple calls, units are en route.” The wail of the engines started before I could even end the call.

Headquarters was only two blocks away. I could run Rosie down there for safekeeping, grab my radio, and make it back to the scene.

Smoke rose from under the copper dome and began pouring out of the building. People darted across the street, right out in front of cars. Someone was going to get killed if they hadn’t already.

I glanced at my daughter, my heart thumping from the adrenaline coursing through me. There was no time to get Rosie to the station, even though it was only two blocks away. I couldn’t leave this scene.

Engine One pulled up on West Court Square, blocking traffic.

“Rosie, come on,” I yelled, grabbing her hand and darting through pedestrians, sprinting to the engine. I could put her by the truck, and she’d be safe, and I could keep an eye on her and do my job.

I made it to the crew as they were pulling hoses and ordered Rosie to stand at the back of the truck, out of the way of the crew, but in a safe zone.

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