Page 18 of Break

“Hey. I just drove by. All looks well,” I tell him.

“Did you see her?” he asks me, and I sigh into the phone. It’s an innocent question, but I feel like a goddamn stalker tattling on a grown woman.

“I did. She was outside doing some yard work.”

He hesitates a moment, then asks, “How’d she look?”

Scowling at the road in front of me, I let my impatience lace my voice. “What do you mean, ‘how’d she look’? She looked like a person doing yard work.”

“Yeah, nevermind. I’ll go home then. Thanks for driving by.” He sounds relieved, which is a good sign. I was really questioning whether or not he cared.

“You do that. I’m going to go now. See you around,” I tell him and hang up the phone before he responds.

During my drive home, I consider how bad an argument could have been for someone to call the cops. I lift my foot from the gas, debating if I should turn around and check on her once more, but Danny’s already on his way there. She was outside weeding flower beds; there’s no way she’d be doing that if she was more hurt than just her feelings.

Chapter 9

1 day ago

Max

“Walter! Come on, buddy.Outside.”

I wait patiently while my 3-year-old boy lifts his head from the couch to eye me sleepily. He’s completely unconcerned that I’ve got about ten minutes to get his lazy ass out the door to pee before I need to head down to the station. It’s been a couple of months since Vincent transferred stations, coming closer to home. His parents have been begging him to make the change, and both Ethan and I are thrilled to have him back.

Ethan showed up about eight months ago after his honorable discharge from the Army, deciding that it wasn’t something he wanted to do long term after being injured on deployment. Thank God it wasn’t anything life-threatening. Getting slammed by flying shrapnel from a bomb that was overlooked by the EOD - Explosive Ordnance Disposal - Specialist on his team had him losing faith with his crew. He didn’t feel comfortable training with anyone new, so home was his choice. We were all proud of his decision to join, but I’m happy he’s here and in one piece.

“For the love of God, Walt… go potty. Come on,” I urge him again, and this time he lifts his 135-pound body from the cushion that’s been designated as his spot and stretches. I didn’t think it was possible for a dog to groan like a 60-year-old man, but this fucker does it every time his naps are disrupted.

“Sosorry to disrupt your beauty sleep,” I tell him as he pads his way past me and out the door. I’ve trained him to use only one area of the yard for his bathroom needs on the far side of the lawn. It only takes him a few minutes to do his thing before he’s trotting back to where I’m waiting in the door, more energetic now that he’s up and moving around. “Good boy,” I praise with a pat to the back of his neck. Throwing a few cups of dry food into his bowl and changing out his water, I leave him to his lunch and head out the door.

Ethan is already waiting for me in his truck, arm hanging out the window. He’s scrolling through his phone when I hop into the passenger seat. I barely have my door shut when he backs out of the driveway and sets off toward the police station.

“Any issues with the Whitlocks?” I ask. An email came through from Sharon Whitlock, whose apartment location was found out by her ex-boyfriend, and needed to be moved to a different area in town. She has two little girls as well, so the move was particularly stressful for her. I had Ethan stick around for the first evening in their new place to make sure her ex didn’t show up and cause them any problems.

“No issues. Those kids of hers were little psychos for a while and got in the way of some of the movers, but once they were gone, the girls settled down. I think Sharon was just relieved to be done with all of it.”

“Perfect. I’ll check in with her caseworker and make sure they’ve got what they need. Sharon has court next week, so hopefully they’ll have some sort of resolution with this guy. Then she and the kids can finally move back home.”

He nods his agreement, turning his attention to the traffic-congested street of downtown. Ever since he came home, he’s been quieter than usual. Not that he’s dealing with the aftermath of what happened overseas. More like he’s just reflecting on the changes in his life.

We quietly sit for a few minutes, Ethan tapping his thumb on the steering wheel, when he breaks the silence. “Danny called me.”

Interesting.

“Oh yeah? What’d he want?” I’m surprised Ethan, of all people, heard from him. He kept in touch with me and Vincent while he was gone, but not regularly. Danny even less than the two of us. The past few years, we’ve all grown fairly distant from Danny, rarely seeing him. Our communication has been limited to a few texts and a phone call here and there, so it’s strange that of all people, he called Ethan.

“Don’t know. I didn’t answer, and he didn’t leave a message. Just thought it was weird.”

“If it was important, he’ll call back. Do you know where we’re going for lunch?” I ask, changing the subject. Danny isn’t interesting enough for me to continue any discussion with him as the topic.

Shrugging, he flips on the turn signal and weaves his way through the packed parking lot of the police station. “Some mom-and-pop place over on Hudson. Vince’s partner’s wife runs it, and he promised we’d go check it out.”

“Perfect, because I’m fucking starving.” My stomach growls loudly after my declaration, and Ethan chuckles.

“You’re a big boy. You can handle twenty minutes.”

Once we’ve parked near the back of the lot, I send a text to Vincent.

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