Page 18 of Betting Brett

As I cook, we chat about school, her friends, and her favorite hobbies. She tells me about her latest art project, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "I love painting," she says, her voice filled with passion. "I want to be an artist when I grow up."

I nod. "That's amazing, Izzy. I can't wait to see your work."

She beams, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. "Thanks, Uncle Andy."

We continue to talk as I cook, the kitchen filling with the delicious aroma of the carbonara. Before long, it's ready, and I plate up three generous portions, serving a plate for Brett when he gets home. We sit down at the dining table, digging in.

"Mm, this is delicious!" Izzy declares, her mouth full of pasta.

I laugh, taking a bite. "Thank you. I'm glad you like it."

We continue to eat, Izzy continues to crack me up with her funny and unfiltered comments. We haven’t spent much time together, just the two of us, and I cherish every moment. I can't help but think about the future, about the possibility of stepping into a more permanent role in Izzy's life, and whether Brett would even want me to.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

After dinner, we head to the living room, and Izzy pulling out her favorite board game. "Want to play?" she asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

I nod, smiling. "Of course. Prepare to be defeated.”

She giggles, setting up the game. We spend the next hour playing, having a great time. No matter whether Brett and I stay friends, or evolve into something more, spending time like this with Izzy is something I’ll make a priority either way. As the evening wears on, Izzy starts to yawn, her eyelids drooping. I tell her I think it's bedtime and stand up.

She nods, yawning again. "Okay. Thanks for dinner, Uncle Andy. And for playing with me."

I smile, pulling her into a hug. "Anytime, kiddo. Sweet dreams."

She turns to head to her room and then looks back over her shoulder at me. “Dad’s okay, right? I can tell you’re a little worried about him, and he’s not usually this late.”

“He sounded fine when he called,” I answer her truthfully, “but he wasn’t able to tell me what was going on. I’m sure he’ll come tell you goodnight, no matter what time he gets home.”

Izzy nods and goes to her room, leaving me alone in the living room. I clean up the ice cream bowls off the coffee table and finish loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. I’m running out of busy work and am considering dusting the living room when the front door opens. Brett steps inside, his uniform dirty, his hair a mess, and his expression haunted.

“Jesus,” I say, getting up and going to him. “Is everything o—” I can’t get the question out before Brett grabs my face in his hands and pulls me in for a kiss.

12

Brett

TheShafterFallspolicestation is eerily quiet, the usual buzz of activity replaced by a heavy silence. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a harsh glow over the room, making everything seem even more stark and cold. I stand by my locker, stowing the equipment that doesn’t go home with me, the weight of the day pressing heavily on my shoulders.

Sam stands next to me, his face pale, his eyes haunted. We've both done this for a few years and seen our fair share of accidents and minor crimes, but nothing like this. Nothing truly terrible ever happens in Shafter Falls. But apparently, today was an exception. It was a gruesome crime scene, one that I wanted to bleach from my mind. Erase it all with the press of a button.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible, so dealing with it was the only option.

"Man," Sam begins, his voice shaky, "I've never seen anything like that. Not here."

I swallow a hard lump of emotion that gets lodged in my throat. The image of the lifeless body, covered in blood, flashes before my eyes. She had been raped and stabbed and left in a ditch, bruises around her body showing she’d also been beaten. I felt my stomach flip when I spotted her laying there on the side of the road like discarded trash. While she had no identifying information on her, her dirty clothes and worn-out feet told us that she was likely homeless, maybe going through our town and fighting with whoever she was with.

Or maybe it was something more sinister?

I wanted to help her, even in death. But there wasn’t much I could do. The helplessness clung to me like the dirt and blood that crusted the woman’s body. I’d seen some shit in my time as a cop, but that doesn’t make me immune. It always shocked me to be reminded of how monstrous other people can truly be. Especially after I became a father. Having Izzy changed how I saw the world and also how I saw other people.

"Me neither," I reply, my voice hoarse. "It's just... shit. Today was hard. Really hard."

I couldn’t get the woman’s lifeless stare out of my head. I couldn’t help but wonder if she had family or friends out there, wondering about her, looking for her. The investigation wouldn’t be our job, it was up to the state police now. They might call us in for support, but investigating this kind of violence was above our pay grade.

Sam claps a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "You okay, Brett?"

I take a deep breath, trying to push the memories away. "I will be. Just need some time to process."

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