I turn when I hear her sharp tone. God, she’s such a bitch. “Hey Sergeant.” I try to be civil, but she looks up at me with her reading glasses perched on her large, pronounced nose and shakes her head.
“Boy, why aren’t you out on the streets for your assignment? Shift started three minutes ago. You’re late and that damn Mad Hatter lunatic has hit again.”
My eyebrows meet my hair line as I look at the woman who has given me nothing but hell for the last seven months. Ever since I was promoted to detective, she’s treated me like I am a damn rookie. It’s been pure hell. She gives me the crappiest assignments and chaps my balls every chance she gets. My father told me she’s always been a damn bitch from hell that made everyone miserable. Back in the day, he was the Desk Sergeant and she was a rookie beat patrol officer.
Williams throws the keys at me, and I catch them in mid-air. She smirks, huffs, and looks at me with cold, green eyes.
“Make sure you clean it this time, Drew. I’ll make you do foot patrol if you don’t.”
For once, she makes me laugh. “Yes, Ma’am.” I walk out of the lobby to the carpool lot.Shit.I didn’t even look at the key number. Don’t let it be SUV #15. It's the oldest SUV in the hopper. The damn thing breaks down at least twice a week.
There it is, sitting, mocking me. It lights up and the horn sounds. Lt. Michaels walks over and gets in. Thank you, God. I look down at my key ring and smirk. Oh, hell yeah. SUV K-9 unit #21. Fuck, this unit is nice. Brand new and all mine for the night. I do my inspection of the vehicle and get in.
“Dispatch, Alpha Bravo #21 on duty.”
“10-4 Alpha Bravo #21.”
I’m not out of the parking lot before dispatch is beeping in.
“All units respond to Grand Royal & Queen Street. Fire in progress.”
“Alpha Bravo #21, responding.”
“Negative. You’re needed at the corner of Grand Royal and Maple. Address 1774 Maple.”
“10-4. Mark as en route.”
A pop-up box lights up my laptop screen. Level two domestic case. Two officers are already on scene. See, what did I tell you? Crap assignments.Fuck me.The domestic cases in that area are always such a pain. No one presses charges. Everyone says they had a misunderstanding. I’m still trying to figure out why anyone calls these types of things in when no one ever follows through with charges anyways.
“Alpha Bravo #21, please be advised, a minor is involved.”
“10-4.”
My screen changes from level two to three. Sirens on and lights blinking, I haul ass to the scene.
* * *
I mark myself as “arrived”ten minutes later. Telling dispatch I’m going radio silent, I walk over to the officers already on scene. They are having a heated discussion. As they see me, they pipe down and give me a grim look. I already smell more than a domestic case here. My gut is telling me something is wrong.
A detective doesn’t get called out to a domestic case unless everyone else is on a call. With The Mad Hatter running loose, I know I have to keep an open mind and get this scene wrapped up. Officers Moody and Chantle shake my hand, and I notice they are clearly uncomfortable.
“What do we have?”
Officer Chantle sighs. “Waiting on medics to show up. We have a teenage girl that needs to be transported.”
My hackles rise as I think about what this could mean. “Do we have a sexual assault case?”
Officer Moody looks downright green as he shakes his head. “Um, not exactly Drew. We think this is a breaking and entering gone wrong. The girl has been stabbed. The wounds differ from any kind of knife wound I’ve ever seen.”
“Well, that’s better than sexual assault.” I try to keep my tone light.
“Sir, someone has stabbed her from her pelvis to her throat.”
Fuck me. “Have you called in Sergeant Adams?”
“Yes, but he’s over at the fire call and we weren’t sure if it would relate this to The Mad Hatter. He told us not to bother him if it wasn’t. Also, this doesn’t fit with The Mad Hatter. This is a girl, not a guy.”
I listen to Chantle, and while it makes sense, a random break in doesn't happen in this part of town. This is the glamorous part of Wonderland. Teenagers playing music too loud during a party on Friday night? Absolutely. A domestic violence allegation because someone had too much to drink? Yes. But a B & E in a gated community with million-dollar homes? No. Something is up.
