Page 46 of Hoofin’ It

Michelle laughed. “I’ve missed your weirdo sense of humor at the station. Get on in, Gibson. I doubt the captain will need you for long, and we’ll drive you back when you’re done.”

At the rate I was going, I’d never make it to my apartment. I rubbed my forehead in a futile effort to ward off the start of a headache. My medical leave, which had given me four extra paid weeks over the state’s minimum, had come with the stipulation I would go to the station whenever called. “All right.”

“Good sport. Stripes, get your ass back on your side of the car and stop whimpering like a baby. Shane ain’t gonna bite you. And even if he did, he’s clear.” Michelle waved my license in her partner’s face. “Lay off the dumbass act already.”

“Maybe I should bite someone. That way, I’d deserve my reputation. We could hang a sign at the station counting the number of days since the last Shane attack.”

“Just get your ass in the car before I throw your ass in the car, Shane.”

I obeyed before I got used as an example, and since I’d already gotten in my jab at Stripes, I kept to the other side of the vehicle. “Will the captain need me to verify my whereabouts?”

“Yep.”

“Joy. I’m so excited. I suppose it could be worse. I’m not being arrested.”

“Yet,” Michelle muttered.

Of course. I should have known. I wondered what bullshit crime I was going to be accused of to make sure the door hit my ass on my way off the force in case minimum wage and failing a dual-eye visual acuity test didn’t work. Since anything I said or did would be used against me in a court of my peers, I kept my mouth shut and waited.

Logically, I knew my desk would be cleared the next time I returned to the station, but seeing some bright-eyed new recruit in my spot annoyed me so much I refused to acknowledge anyone beyond a curt nod.

“Who pissed in your cereal this morning?” Michelle asked, nudging me in the ribs.

I didn’t say a word, shrugging. Her brow furrowed, and she shot a frown my way. Taking the most direct path to the captain’s office put me in the line of fire of every officer in the station, and by the time I finished the walk, I was so tense I quivered. I rapped my knuckles on the door.

“Enter,” Captain Martins barked.

I let myself in and closed the door, effectively barring my pair of escorts from joining the conversation. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

The Chicago police force mostly consisted of humans, but only individuals with a higher magic rating could rise through the ranks. With a limited pool of qualified people, the higher positions were sometimes occupied by non-humans. Lion centaurs made for intimidating officers, especially when they roared. “Where the fuck have you been? You were supposed to present yourself for duty if called.”

“When, sir?”

“Two days ago.”

“I was probably convincing my surgeon I could be released following the surgical reconstruction of my shoulder, sir.”

Unlike many centaurs, Captain Martins had feline ears, and his turned back while his tail lashed from side to side, thumping against the wall. “And why was your shoulder being surgically reconstructed?”

“Because a man named Mark O’Conners thought it’d be a good idea to shoot me outside my parents’ home. Furthermore, I’d notified the station I might not be available due to traveling, sir. Anyway, I took two rounds to the shoulder.”

“That’s impossible. If you’d been shot in the shoulder, you’d still be in the hospital.”

The last thing I needed was the captain accusing me of being a liar. I sighed, pulled out Dr. Yasolovic’s card, and held it out to him. “This is Dr. Yasolovic, who was handling my evaluation at the CDC. You can contact Dr. Harting in Des Moines for verification of the operation. She was the surgeon in charge of the procedure. You can get statements from the Lincoln, Nebraska police if you require additional proof I was shot.”

“It’s impossible to recover that quickly from being shot.”

“I was given a rather large transfusion of blood from a lycanthrope, sir. It hastens regeneration.”

“Infected?”

The malicious glee in the man’s voice made me want to reach across his desk and strangle him. “No, sir. I’m immune to the lycanthropy virus and have been given a new designation.” Since I expected Captain Martins would confiscate my new driver’s license if I showed it to him, I kept it in my pocket. “Dr. Yasolovic can verify the details with you.”

The centaur snatched his phone off the hook and stabbed the numbers so hard I was impressed the device didn’t break. “Captain Martins, CPD. I need to speak to Dr. Yasolovic, please.”

At least he hadn’t forgotten his manners. I wondered if the CDC would make my situation worse. Being arrested would cap off my week with a whole new level of misery—and ruin my chances of returning to the police force in any city.

I wanted to know what they thought I’d done. The clause requiring my presence at the station wasn’t an arresting offense, especially since I’d notified the appropriate personnel I would be vacationing.