Page 94 of 5+Us Makes Seven

I was sitting at my desk with my feet up, legs crossed, leaning back on my reclining office chair. My expensive crocodile skin boots shone as I studied them, reflecting the harsh light illuminating the Police Department's main office area.

I’d been told the crocodile skin was sustainably farmed by the guy I’d bought the shoes from, but I couldn’t really care less. They were hot as hell, and that’s what mattered.

I was still studying my new boots when a beat cop knocked sarcastically on my desk, grinning at me.

I looked up, slightly glad to be awoken from my bored reverie.

“Storm. How’s things with you, bro?” he said, frowning at my boots as he spoke.

“Those real?” he added.

I glared at him. “‘Course they’re real, Lucas. What do you take me for, some sort of tight ass?”

He laughed. I’d known Lucas since before the Police Academy, when we’d both been drinking buddies. We didn’t go to school together, but knew each other through mutual friends in our small, close knit hometown. He was used to my dry humor.

I crossed my hands behind my head and sighed absently.

“What you got for me, Lucas boy? Better be good. Can’t you see I’m busy, man?”

I kept a straight face as he laughed again.

“Listen, I know you’ve been taken off the case you were on with your partner. Ain’t no shame in twiddling your thumbs between cases, bro. How is Kale? He holding up alright?” He frowned with genuine concern.

Kale was my partner, and we had worked together on the case that made us both detective. He’d taken a bullet during a shootout on our first big detective case, looking into a local illegal prostitution ring. We’d gotten close to taking the operation down when we were spotted by two armed thugs while snooping around an old warehouse.

We both got bullets sprayed at us, he got two in the chest, one in the shoulder and one in the thigh. His vest saved his life, but he was still recovering from the other two bullets. None of the bullets went near me. Lucky, I guess.

One of those rounds had been near fatal, but I’d shot the two gangsters pinning us down by popping out from solid cover, inviting them to show their heads. They obliged. I killed them both coolly with headshots. They’d fired first, after all.

Until the ambulance arrived I’d kept him alive with rudimentary first aid, combined with shouting threats of what I’d do to him if he fucking died on me. He was out for a few months at least, but we all knew the psychological scars might take a while longer to heal than the bullet wounds. It was an unspoken rule that most who’d been shot or seen their colleague shot knew all too well.

I snapped out of the flashback, looking up at Lucas.

“He’s tough. He’ll live, but I don’t know how he’s taken it, y’know. Haven’t been round to see him since he left the hospital, figured he needs time with his family.”

I picked up a mug of coffee from the table in front of me, studying the contents.

“I’m gonna go see him this weekend, take him some flowers or something. Maybe sneak in a cold brew or two.”

“Sounds like a good plan. Glad to hear he’s pulling through, Storm.” Lucas nodded sincerely.

“Anyways, got something that will cheer you up.” Lucas beamed at me proudly, white teeth showing behind his tanned skin.

Lucas reached into his pocket and pulled out a sealed evidence bag, waving it at me. There was a smaller bag inside it, with what looked like a small amount of crystal meth.

“Bit early for that. You know I don’t tweak before at least 3pm, bro.”

He snorted. “Look at it closer.”

My new boots thudded on the floor as I leaned forward to inspect the contents of the bag he was holding. It was a small amount, maybe an eighth of an ounce, so I had to lean across the desk on my elbows to get a good look.

I whistled.

“No shit. Thought this stuff had pretty much disappeared now?” The crystals were clear, much clearer than low grade street meth. They had a yellow tint to them, and a slight blue hue when looked at closely.

“Thing is, it had. I got this off a guy earlier today. I saw him leaning into a car that was driving around, you know. He thought he’d go into a side alley for a little smoke.” Lucas shrugged.

“Booked him, but he wouldn’t talk. Wouldn’t say a damn word, said he was scared shitless. Isn’t enough there for us to really do anything. First offence. So we let him off with a caution.”

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