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It had left him feeling nauseated and wistful at the same time.
Jeffrey Tillman’s freckled face split into a wide grin. “Yo, Sarge, is it true you’re going to some dance tonight to be man meat for a bunch of desperate chicks?”
Jeff had been with Blake for three months and was one of his favorite kids. He was in for shoplifting—his second arrest—and the judge had hoped their program would help him. So far, the kid seemed to be responding well.
His boundaries left much to be desired, though.
“I’m going to a fundraiser, Tillman. And women don’t usually like being called chicks.”
“Yeah, yeah, but is it like a stripper thing? Are you going to get up on stage and make those dollar bills?”
Tillman did a dance, shaking his hips and thrusting his pelvis, and the other boys laughed.
Blake, still not happy about the fundraiser, shot Tillman a fierce look. “No one is stripping, and if you wanna keep it up, I’ll have you doing burpees until your knees give out.”
“Sorry, Sarge.” Tillman’s grin told Blake he wanted to say more but was refraining.
Blake made them do laps while practicing keeping their dogs in the heel position, giving him a chance to check his phone. No new messages.
“Yo, Kline!” Best called from the edge of the training field. “Phone call.”
Blake nodded and started jogging toward him. “You got my hoodlums?”
“Yeah, I’ll watch the little monsters.”
Blake hurried inside to his office, and after he shut the door, he picked up the phone.
“This is Sergeant Blake Kline.”
“Sergeant, this is Charles Gunn, returning your call.”
Blake wanted to whoop. Charles was the friend of General Reynolds’s who was selling his house in Orangevale, and although the address was in a nice neighborhood, Blake had been a little leery about a for-sale-by-owner deal.
Until Charles had e-mailed him pictures yesterday. The place was perfect, with a big backyard, four bedrooms, and two baths. He’d gone to see it yesterday after work and told Charles he wanted to think about it, but there was no reason to hesitate. He wanted that house.
So, he’d called Charles back this morning to discuss terms and left a message for him to call him back.
Now, it was go time.
“Hey, Charles. You can just call me Blake. I am really interested in your house, but I was hoping you’d take forty thousand dollars less if I g
ave you cash up front.”
It was a bold move, and he knew it. He had the forty thousand if Charles wouldn’t agree, but he thought it was a fair price with the updates the house needed.
Charles was silent on the line. “That’s a pretty steep reduction in price. Most people ask for a couple thousand off.”
“I realize that, sir, but the house needs quite a bit of updating, and it’s been sitting on the market a year at the price you’re asking, which should be indication enough that the price is on the high side. The good thing about this is you can take the money and no longer have this property wearing you down. You can fully retire in Florida with no worries.”
Charles seemed to be chewing over his words. “I’m gonna need some time to consider before I make my final decision.”
“I can respect that, and I’ll wait for your call.”
Charles’s phone disconnected, and Blake breathed out a big, weighty sigh.
He wanted this house, bad. He only hoped that old Charles came through so he’d have a place to take Charge.
And maybe a home to bring Hannah back to without worrying for her safety?
