Turning away from the screen, he flipped through the notes on his desk. They’d gotten lucky recovering this vehicle the way they had. Maybe Marc Swindell was getting sloppy. He’d make another mistake, which was good news for the good guys.
Randy left messages for the contacts they’d gathered fromthe car dealership. According to the paperwork left in the glove box, they now had the person who’d traded in the vehicle and information on who’d done repairs on it recently. No one was answering his calls, though. He hated days like this.
He started down the list of calls to make on the new case he’d been given this afternoon. It came with the same results. Nothing.
All due diligence aside, he finished up the paperwork on Natalie’s vehicle and went to refill his coffee cup.
It was shift change for most of the guys, so things were quieting down. He went into the break room and lifted the coffeepot. The pungent smell nearly choked him—clearly this pot had too many hours on the burner. When he swirled the liquid, it moved like sludge.
I’ll pass on that.
“Fellowes! What are you still doing here?” Kirk was a vice cop. One of the big beefy guys who looked like he could lift criminals by the elbow with one hand.
“Working. Why aren’t you?”
“I have a date.” Kirk’s Hollywood smile shifted into a smirk. “I’m meeting her across the street at the tavern. You need to get a life outside work, man. You know what they say about all work and no play.”
“I really don’t think anyone says anything about that anymore.”
“How would you know? Far as I can see, all you do is work.”
“I’m fine with that.” All his hard work had earned him a detective position in record time, and Randy was proud of that. He didn’t mind working twice as hard to prove himself to the older, seasoned detectives. “I’ve got things to do.”
“Not tonight, you don’t. Youarecoming to the softball game, aren’t you?” Kirk was the best hitter they had on the department team. Most people called him “Moon” because that’s where he hit most of the pitches to on a good day.
Forgot all about it.“Lost track of time.” He glanced at his watch. “Don’t know if I have time to make it home to get my gear and back out there now.”
“We’re playing the Twelfth Precinct. Chief will never let you live it down if we lose because you’re not there. Speed if you have to. I know a guy who can make the ticket disappear for you.”
“Yeah, right.” Randy laughed at the joke, but speeding wasn’t entirely out of the question. There was a long rivalry between the two departments, and if he didn’t play tonight, the chief wouldn’t be doing him any favors anytime soon. “I hear ya. I better hustle up.”
He shoved his mug in Kirk’s chest. “Make yourself useful. Put this in my office. I’ll see you on the field.”
“That’s more like it.” Kirk tossed Randy’s favorite mug in the air, sending it reeling end over end straight up.
“Don’t drop that mug.”
Kirk caught it and tossed it again, higher this time.
The guy was too cocky for his own good.
Randy jogged out, hoping his mug would crash against the tile floor. It would serve Kirk right.
He jumped in his truck and took the back way home. The interstate would take twice as long this time of the evening. Any other day he’d have had his ball bag in the truck. Prepared.I’m always prepared.But not lately. The only ducks he had in a row these days were the ones that pertained to Natalie’s case… or Natalie in general.
An hour and twenty minutes later, he was on the ball field in his uniform, warming up.
Kirk was leaning against the fence talking to some blonde. He rarely warmed up with the team. No one counted on him for anything but the home runs anyway, which required no running, just a little shoulder jog around the bases and a few high-fives.
The team came together in the dugout for a resounding promise to quickly take the other team down, ending in a rousingrah!
They jogged out to take the field and were able to shut them down—three up and three down. No thanks to any great fielding, just a series of pop flies that just about anyone could have caught, but they’d take it.
Randy led off the batting order with a solid double, and by the time Kirk came up for cleanup, they had the bases loaded.
By their last at-bat, the game was tied, they only needed one run to put this game to rest, and with two outs, it was Randy’s turn to bat.
He grabbed his bat, swinging it to exert some of the excess energy on his way to the plate. He kicked the dirt and slid into his stance. His hands gripped and re-gripped the bat. Eyes leveled on the pitcher, who shook off whatever the catcher was signaling. The guy finally got ready to throw the pitch.
