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“Thanks. Appreciate that, but I think we’re good for now,” I answer her with my own grin.

I can’t explain it, but I instantly liked her the first time she spoke, but her comment and grin prove that we could be friends forever.

James takes control of the cuffed man and exits the building with him. Leaning him against the car, I know James will do a thorough pat-down before placing the man in the backseat. I take a moment to study the other man and watch as he slowly backs out of the building, hands in the air. Hitting the sidewalk, he bolts down the street, leaving his buddy to his fate.

“Thanks for the assist. Appreciate it, sir.”

“No thanks needed. Sorry for what was said—”

“Not your fault. I hear worse every day. I learned to grow a thick skin a long time ago. We’ll get out of here and let you get back to your day,” I interrupt while holding out my hand.

The big guy gently shakes my hand and then smiles huge.

“Was nice meeting you, Officer. Always makes my day to watch a badass female in action. You be safe out there and come back anytime.”

“Here’s your order. It’s on the house and please do come back again,” Trudy says while handing me my donuts and coffee.

I take the order, stuff some bills in the tip jar and exit with a smile.

*~*~*~*

“Now that our first arrest of the week is lodged and comfy in his new surroundings, you have some explaining to do,” I tell James as we’re cruising our district again.

“Are you going on about me driving again?”

“Nope. I’m finding that I like being chauffeured around. I feel like Miss Daisy.”

“Then what do I need to explain about?” James asks in an exasperated voice.

“About why you were ID checking a guy wearing a Devil’s Angels cut.”

“You noticed the cut? I was kinda hoping you were too busy checking out the baked goods,” James answers while still sidestepping the question.

“James, you can’t harass someone simply because they’re a member of the same club as the Viking Dick. He fucked up, not them. Besides, we’ve moved on from him, and he’s dead to us, remember?”

“I wasn’t harassing anyone. That guy looked a lot like the one they showed us at line-up today, and we’re supposed to be on the look-out for him. I was just checking his ID to make sure it wasn’t the guy that’s wanted,” James answers in an offended tone.

I burst out laughing because James is such a bad liar. He has no poker face whatsoever and loses every time we play.

“Not one vagina-owning human would complain about the guy from the bakery flashing his johnson, you lying dog! The guy from line-up was 80 years old if he was a day,” I say when I quit laughing.

Before I can get some truth out of James, we get a phone call from our Captain.

“Hey, Livi. You know that little boy you guys brought in the other night? The one whose mom was dead? The social worker just called here saying he’s missing. He took off from the foster home he was placed at. You two want to head over there and speak with them? Dispatch is putting out his info and picture, but I thought you two might want to do the follow-up.”

“We’ll go there now. Thanks for the heads up, Captain.”

I disconnect and relay the info to James. He aims the car in direction of the foster home as I scan the area looking for a small boy.

*~*~*~*

“I don’t know why he took off. He went out back to play, and the next time I looked, he was gone. When I asked the other boys where he was, they said he simply walked through the gate and left. He was only out of my sight for a couple of minutes,” the distraught foster mom tells us.

“When my wife shouted to me that the little guy had taken off, I jumped in my car and drove the streets looking for him. Never got a glimpse of him, though. We called it in right away. We’ve never had something like this happen before. What can we do to help, Officer?” Todd LaMere, the foster dad asks.

“Stay here in case he returns. Here’s my card with my phone number on it. Call if he shows back up. We’ll hit the streets and see if we can locate him,” I tell the parents.

James and I return to our patrol unit and slowly cruise the neighborhood. There are a million places a child that size can hide if they really want to. Unfortunately, it’s often the worst kind of humanity that finds them before we do.

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