Page 20 of Concealed

“It’s where I can make a difference because I’m so passionate,” I insist. “I need to channel the anger differently, and being aware is the first step, right? I’m just asking for a chance. You can have me knocking on doors and pounding the pavement on my days off, I don’t care. I just want to be part of taking the bastards down.”

Grant drops his hands, and his posture relaxes. “Let me tell you a story.”

I have no idea if the story means that I’m wearing him down, or if he’s about to nicely reject my request. But either way, I want to hear it, so I nod.

“I had a very personal case that affected my judgment. Someone I knew was molested by her father, and I’m the one who raised the alarm bells. It’s what started my so-called hero complex.” He smiles, lost in a memory that he isn’t going to share, and I respect him for it.

“Anyway, I get it,” he continues. “I understand the anger, and I understand the desperation to make a difference. It’s as though you’re repenting for not doing it when it counted for you personally.”

Whatever case he’s talking about, it still gets to him because he’s straightening out paperclips and then bending them until they break while he talks.

“And it was my past that caused me to make a mistake on a case, a procedural mistake that was the right thing morally,” he continues. “I stepped in when I technically shouldn’t have to save a little girl who was being abused by her father. But after my so-called fuck-up cost me my first chance at making detective, I started living by the rules to get where I am now.”

He tells me about a little girl named Keeley. They created a secret code when he went to her house for a call. It ended up saving her life when she left a painted rock out for Grant to let him know that she needed his help.

I would have done the same damn thing because how can you, as a human being, look the other way when a little girl is being hurt where she’s supposed to be the safest – in her father’s arms? Cop or not, there are some things I need to fight for, or else I couldn’t live with myself.

But there is a right and wrong way to go about it. The wrong way gets thrown out of court and the cop in question is possibly thrown off the force. So, Grant is right, and I need to follow all the rules to a T, or I’ll never make a difference.

And I will, starting now.

“All of this is to say that people gave me second chances over the years,” Grant continues. “And I’m going to do the same for you. I’ll let you join the task force, but I’ll be paying close attention, and I want you to keep me updated. Come to me if you need advice. You can also talk to Wallace. He’s a good man and a good cop.”

“Thank you, sir, and I’ll do both of those things. You have my word.”

After tomorrow’s shift, I’m supposed to be off for three days before starting nights. But when Grant explains what’s required on the task force, I let him know that I’m good to sacrifice my downtime so I can get my hands dirty and do some reading, learning, and interviewing.

“You can work two of the days, but take the others to sleep, see the town, and meet some friends. You can’t work your life away, Harrison. I’m your boss and I’m giving you that advice, so take me seriously.”

I nod and rise to my feet. “Thanks, sir.”

When I get to the car, I notice a text from Rebecca that I immediately read.

Rebecca:I left dinner on the stove for whenever you get home.

Wyatt:Do you want to meet me at Hooligan’s? We can grab a drink and get out of the house for a bit. We can hide in the back where no one will see us.

Rebecca:Is that a bar?

Wyatt:Yeah, I guess you could say it is. We can go somewhere else if you want.

Rebecca:I’m still pretty tired. Thank you, though. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow maybe.

Wyatt:Nah, I’ll come home. See you soon.

The thought of not seeing Rebecca sits like rocks in my stomach. I tell myself it’s only because I want to make sure she’s okay. I told Gabe that I’d take care of her, and I meant it. I’m her only friend in the area, and it must be boring and lonely to sit around the house alone all day.

But she’s also beautiful, funny, and incredibly sweet under her skittish exterior. I want to keep breaking down her defenses so we can… what? Even if I was inclined to date, I don’t have time for a relationship or a schedule that easily allows for one.

And she’s not ready for me to make a pass at her.

It doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be close to her, though, or spend as much time in her company as possible. It just sucks that our conversation about badge bunnies makes me think that she doesn’t trust cops.

Go figure.

Driving home and listening to classic rock, I reflect on my career choice and how different it is than I expected.

Cops are often the first to be called and the last to be respected. And when we get hurt or killed, people dismiss our sacrifice and say, “Well, he signed up for it.”

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