Page 31 of Wrapped in Silver

His eyes become glassy, like he’s the one letting me down or something. It’s not even his case.

“The main trail went cold after the first night,” he says solemnly. “We had the wrong suspects. Now this runner is our next stop. And trust me… we won’t be going easy on ’em.”

“I know, Big.” I give him another hug. “I know.”

Inside, I’m boiling. All of a sudden, Batman Silver seems like a dick. All this commotion he’s causing because he can’t “trust me.”The cops don’t take me seriously either, though. This whole damn thing is a mess.

“Don’t let me keep you.” I break the embrace. “Thanks for the visit. It means a lot.”

“Course, Bee.” His frown is static.

Age really shows on him in a time of crisis. Coffee-stained teeth and wrinkles around his cheeks make it seem like the big bear has been up for weeks. Poor guy.

“Big.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t go too hard on yourself.”

“I’ll rest when he’s back.” Bill goes for the door. “Sit tight, sweetheart.”

My teeth clench as the door shuts.

I’m triggered now. I’ve never been known for my patience, if I’m being honest, and Silver just tested it past my limits.

Rushing around like a madwoman, I grab my winter jacket hanging over the couch, drape a scarf around my neck, and bend for my boots by the door. Pausing for a second, I look at the lemur fuzzy socks, thinking of what Silver would say if he saw me in them.

A half-smile forms for a second, until I remember my anger.

Screw this.

After stuffing my boots on, I exit the house, making a funny face at the oblivious rookie in his car. He doesn’t even see me. That, or he’s pretending not to because he’s sick of this horrible babysitting job. The feeling’s mutual, guy.

This one is newer. I’ve seen him before, though I don’t think it was on duty here at the house. Then again, I am quite delusional these past few days on a few hours’ sleep.

Against my stubborn mood, I walk over to the window and knock on it. Better to let him know I’m leaving than have a manhunt after me when he finds out I’m not in the house.

The window rolls down.

“Yes, Ms. Dall?”

“Going for a walk. I’ll be local,” I say.

“Would you like an escort?” he replies in an almost sarcastic way.

My look back at him tells the story.

“Uh huh.” He rolls the window back up.

Maybe it’s because I’m frustrated with the whole situation, but I knock on the window again.

“Yes, Ms. Dall?”

“What’s with the ’tude, officer?”

Why I’m picking a fight when it’s a literal blessing to have someone nonchalant watching over me is beyond rationality. But here I am.

“I mean no disrespect. I’m here to protect and serve,” he speaks monotone.

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