Fireball (Cheap Thrills 1)

Her eyebrows pinched together, and she stared back at me in pure confusion. “I didn’t break in and enter, I opened the door and entered. There're no breakages on any part of the property?”

Believe it or not, I’d actually heard this excuse before, but coming from her it was almost amusing.

“That may be, but this property belongs to a very nice elderly couple, and you can’t just enter into it and use it to catch up on your sleep,” I informed her, my eyes briefly skimming the rest of the room to see if she’d brought any of her stuff into it. There were only a couple of items like her purse, a phone, and a bottle of water that I could see. “You’ll have to collect your belongings and…”

“Listen, you asshole,” she hissed, then blushed like she’d realized what she’d just called a sheriff, amusing me and taking me by surprise at the same time. A criminal who has a shred of respect for police officers wasn’t a common thing. “This is my house now.”

Cutting her off when she went to continue, I sighed and stood up. “There are laws against that, ma’am. Like I said…” my phone ringing joined what I was laying out to her, momentarily distracting me and giving her enough time to get up and run for the door.

Ignoring my phone, I chased after her, catching her just as she got to the door leading out onto the back porch.

“Let me go, I’m just getting the proof…”

Throughout my career as a member of law enforcement I’d been the ultimate professional. I didn’t break or stretch the rules, I didn’t cause problems, I acted maturely and professionally the whole time – until now. Right now, I’ll admit to getting a lot of enjoyment out of the situation I was in with this fireball wriggling around and trying to get away from me.

Holding her down in a way that wouldn’t leave a bruise or hurt her wasn’t the easiest of things to do – she was very inventive with her vocabulary and struggled like a toddler at bath time – but I eventually got the cuffs on her, and situated her in the back of my vehicle, ignoring all the shit she was yelling at me.

My day had gone from bad to awesome all in one call. Maybe in future I’d take old man Beck’s calls if this was how they ended.One hour later…

“You lucky, lucky, lucky bastard,” Raoul muttered for the eighth time as we stood looking at her through the privacy glass between our room and the one she was sitting in. “I answer one of old man Beck’s calls and I get cat shit, false limbs, and garbage. You go out and you get that,” he indicated at her with his head. “Tell you what, seeing as how you’ve had such a hard day and all, I’ll interview her and you can go get some lunch.”

Shaking my head, my lips twitched at how disappointed he looked. “No way. But feel free to take ten in the break room and get some coffee.”

Patting him on the shoulder as I walked past, I didn’t miss the insult muttered under his breath. Ignoring it, I opened the door to the interview room, and did my best not to laugh at how pissed she was.

“Look, my mother raised me to be respectful to everyone, especially the police, but you’re really pushing my last nerve!”

The scent of the perfume she was wearing was light in the air, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t give a thought to how the best scratch and sniff items could be made with a photo of this woman and a spritz of the fragrance. I breathed in a bit deeper than was normal, getting as much of it into my system as discretely as possible. You didn’t have to be a genius or a police officer to know that sniffing people was just weird.

Sitting down slowly in the free chair, I shot her a grin as I made a point of opening the file I’d brought in with me.

“Ok, Tabitha Newton, aged twenty-six…” which meant there was a seven-year age gap between us.

“Height five-foot-three-inches,” she interrupted sarcastically.

This information made me pause. “Really?” Huh, she’d seemed much taller. At six-foot-two-inches, she was almost a foot shorter than me.

“Yeah, really,” she huffed, slouching down in her chair slightly.

Shaking it off, I went back to what I’d been doing. “Says here you’re a native of Bloomfield, New Jersey, and worked at Bloomfield High School.” Closing the file, I linked my fingers together and looked her straight in the eye. “How is it you find yourself in Piersville, Ms. Newton?”

“I found out I had a sister who lived here, so I moved to be closer to her after my mom died five months ago.”