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“I’ll take care of it,” Detective Bronson says. “Now run along inside and wait for me.”
Run along inside…
What he needs is a swift kick in the ass, but I mutter, “Thank you,” anyway and head into the station. Going over to the coffee station, I pour myself a stale cup of coffee, grounds and all, and drink it down. The bitter taste wakes me up, and I toss the empty Styrofoam cup into the trash, pacing until the detective gets back inside.
Shoving himself through the doors, the detective doesn’t even glance at me. He just simply waves for me to follow him like an obedient dog. We weave down the cold, tiled hallways to his office. He pushes open the door and holds it open for me, and then locks it as I sit down across from his desk.
He plops down opposite me and steeples his fingers. “You did good, kid.”
I want to scoff but bite my tongue. “Thanks,” I reply instead. My mouth gets me into enough trouble, and right now, I just want to go home.
“You can take off the wire for now, but I expect it to be back on before you head into the office tomorrow.” Detective Bronson leans back in his chair, his eyes trained on me. “Looks like this deal keeps getting sweeter for you, O’Brien. Free apartment, free car, free clothes…”
“Every aspect of my entire fucking life is being controlled by others,” I interrupt. “Yeah, it’s fucking swell, Detective.”
The corner of his lip twitches, and he leans against the desk, clasping his hands. “Be sure to charge your wire every night before you go to bed. It must be on you before you go into work every day. I will know if it’s not.” He pushes the charger at me from across the table. “Understood?”
“Loud and clear,” I respond, saluting him like an asshole. “May I leave now?”
He nods and reclines in his chair. Pushing to my feet, I reach for the door when his voice interrupts me again. “Oh and, O’Brien?”
“Yes?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest as I lean on the door to keep it open.
“Don’t be fooled by the luxury and mystery surrounding the Dixen brothers. They are dark and dangerous men who’d sooner kill you before they help you. Keep your wits about you, or they might swallow you whole.”
I make a show of rolling my eyes before letting the door slam shut behind me. Taking a deep breath, I practically jog out of the police station, heading through the automatic doors before anyone can stop me.
Outside, I take a deep breath of fresh, cold November air and start to walk toward my trailer for the last time—or at least for a while. Thankfully, enough time has passed so my clothes are now dry, or I’d be frozen.
Twenty minutes later, I arrive at home, throwing open the door and falling to the ground as my sweet little pitty barrels toward me.
“Mischief!” I scream, opening my arms as he crashes into me. I fall onto my back, laughing amidst tail wags and puppy kisses, feeling the happiest I’ve been in days.
Let’s just hope what they say isn’t true—that when things are too good to be true, they usually are.
