Nobody Knows (SWAT Generation 2.0 11)

Mark was a detective with the Longview Police Department. He was a super good guy, great at his job, but he just… was married to it, I guess.

Fine by me.

I really didn’t want to see him today anyway.

“Okay,” I said, standing up.

Without another word, I walked inside.

“Hey! I still have about fifteen minutes!” he cried. “Could you at least unplug my car before you go?”

I ignored him, waved at him over my shoulder without turning around, and headed inside.

I had a letter to write. He could unplug his own stupid car from the outlet.CHAPTER 2Blow me.-DandelionMALACHIGabriel,

Oh. My. God.

I can’t believe that it’s you!

I’ve been unbelievably worried about you.

When my teacher called me today to tell me that I had a letter from you, I couldn’t drive fast enough to get it.

I have always had you in the back of my mind since the moment that you first started writing me. And these last two years have been hell, wondering how you were.

I’m sorry to hear that you’ve had such a rough time of it. I know that you were extremely vague with what happened, but if you ever need to talk… to write? I’m the perfect reader/listener. I’ll never judge you for the things that you say.

So how has my life changed?

I got my bachelor’s degree in nursing about two years ago.

My brother is also on a SWAT team.

Blue is being a typical teen. Mean girls on steroids.

My parents are doing great. They’re actually getting ready to fly to Scotland to visit ‘my dad’s roots’ with my dad’s brothers and their wives.

Hmm, what else?

Oh, I work with babies now!

That’s actually one of the reasons that I want to break up with my boyfriend.

Well, almost ex-boyfriend.

I’m literally about to break up with him as we speak. Today he came over just so he could use the front of my place to park. For some weird reason, we have one of those plug-ins that you can charge your electric car. I think that my landlord had it put in for his wife to use when she was working.

My soon-to-be-ex uses it as a spot where he can plug his car in and get things done at the same time.

Instead of coming inside and spending time with me, he sits in his car and works.

But that’s not the why of the about-to-be breakup.

He doesn’t want children, and I do.

I want them badly.

Badly enough that I’m considering doing it on my own.

That’s pretty funny, isn’t it?

Anyway, while you were away, I wrote you a ton of letters. I’m posting those today, too. I sent you a package.

And while we’re on the subject of sending packages…

Did you know that your PO Box is in the town over from Kilgore? We’re literally twenty-five minutes away from each other!

If you ever want to meet up for coffee? I’m here. Or if you want to talk.

Anything.

I’ll put my new address on the back of this paper. The PO Box will get it to me, but I’m sure my old teacher won’t really want me using her PO Box anymore.

Hope this letter finds you well,

Sierra.

• • •

“Why can’t you just give me a warning?” the young punk that had been speeding through a school zone asked.

What I should’ve done was explain to him in simple, easy terms that ‘warnings’ were for people that weren’t being complete dumbasses like him.

Instead, I looked at him until he had the decency to sputter and apologize.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“As for why I’m not giving you a warning,” I drawled. “You had three infractions that I could see when you were driving—too fast—through the school zone. One, you were speeding. In fact, you weren’t speeding just a little bit. You were going forty-six in a twenty.”

The kid winced.

“Two, you were on your cell phone, which has been illegal in Texas since 2018,” I continued. “Had you turned it to Bluetooth, it would’ve been fine, however.”

The kid’s face flushed.

“Three, you didn’t yield to the children in the crosswalk,” I continued. “Had the crossing guard not been paying attention to your speeding self, he might’ve had three children ran over right in front of him.”

Now the kid’s face went utterly white.

“Those three children are all under the age of five,” I continued. “Which, might I add, would’ve been manslaughter or attempted manslaughter had you not killed them with how fast you were going.”

The kid’s shoulders slumped.

“Now,” I said softly. “I’m issuing you a citation for failure to yield to a person at the crosswalk. Speeding. And another one for talking on your cell phone in a school zone.”

After the kid left, I made sure to walk carefully back to my cruiser and return to my previous position near the school zone line.

To calm myself down so I wouldn’t lose my shit and follow the stupid little punk after his parting comment of ‘fuck off,’ I pulled out the notebook that I’d started writing the letter to Sierra on and scrambled through the shit on the seat next to me for a pen.