AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Burgling,” she says.
“What?”
“Burgling,” she repeats it like it’s going to sound less ridiculous. “That’s the word, I mean. Not burglaring.”
I laugh. “That a fact?”
“Well,” she reaches up and tucks her hair behind her ears. It’s shoulder-length and blonde. Thick with big curls. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m probably wrong. You’re the cop, right?” She laughs uncomfortably. “I mean, officer. You’re the police officer. Right? Or wait. No. Detective?”
I can practically see her kicking herself. In a way, it’s almost cute. Or endearing maybe. The girl could be my daughter, for crying out loud. If I’d ever kept a lady around long enough to have a kid, anyway.
“You can just call me Brady,” I say. “No need to turn this into a whole formal affair.”
“But it is, though, isn’t it? I mean. The police are here. I made the police show up. At my job…” she sighs and puts a hand over her face.
I’m waiting for the tears. It’s not unusual and not just a thing women do, so don’t think that. You’d be stunned at how many crying tough guys I’ve had in the back seat of my car over the years. It’s like the stages of grief or something, but the stages of guilt. Sooner or later, everybody has that moment where they think if they’re sorry enough you’ll just pull over, pat them on the head, and send them on their way.
This one though, she keeps it together. I gotta say, I’m impressed. She’s got some spunk to her, even if it’s hidden down a bit.
“You wanna know the truth?” I ask, even though I know I’m about to lie.
She nods, for the first time looking up at me. Her eyes are a light blue. I wasn’t entirely wrong, I see. The irises shimmer in the light from the sheen of unshed tears there. It gives her a beautiful color.
I glance away and regain my train of thought. “I get called to alarms like this all the time. Three, or four times a week. Hell,” I catch myself, “shoot, I’ve been in here more than once. It’s the alarm system, not you.”
I take a quick glance back at her and her eyes are still on mine. She really is a stunning girl. Soft-looking skin, and smooth curves hugged by her sweater and slacks. I have half a mind to ask for her ID just to see how old she really is.
“Look, here’s the thing,” I say. “No matter what that lady comes out here and tells you, alarms aren’t any fancier than your old VCR, and how often do those things break?”
She looks at me for a second, her head cocked to the side, and inwardly, I wince. “DVD player?”
She stares a second longer and then bursts into laughter. It’s a bubbly, engaging sound. “No,” she says, “I know what a VCR is. I’m sorry. I was just thinking…well…nevermind what I was thinking.” She turns red again, but this isn’t from the nerves I saw earlier. This is a full-on blush. I might be twice her age, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make my stomach light, and things a little lower hard.
I can feel my eyes wanting to move down her body, drink her in, but not only do I not want to be another lecherous old man slobbering over some young thing, I’m a cop. And I’m on duty, no less.
“Well, look,” I say, “it’s like I told you. That old bag comes out and gives you any trouble, tell her to call me,” I reach in my pocket and hand her a card. Even as I do it I know I’m hoping she’ll hang onto it herself. Maybe it’s stupid; what would I do with a twenty-year-old? But, hell, I could think of a few things.
“She’s my aunt,” the girl whispers, giggles bubbling back up in her voice.
“You’re shittin’ me,” the word slips out. I try to be polite with everyone, but especially around kids. And despite what my body seems to be thinking, I have to keep telling my brain that’s what she is, just a kid.
“I ain’t shittin’ you a bit,” she tries to whisper again, the laughter forcing her volume up and her cheeks reddening again.
The radio on my belt comes to static-y life and I reach back and turn the volume down.
“Don’t you need to…get that?” she asks, unsure of the proper jargon.
“Yeah, yeah, I will,” I say. “But you’ve got my attention right now.” I immediately regret it. Way over the line, at least according to our HR department.
The girl blushes even more, letting me know she took the words exactly as I’d meant them.
“I oughtta get outta here, though,” I say, straightening up. “Look, you need anything, you got my card.”
I turn and head for the door when she calls after me.
“It’s Megan,” she says.
I look back and see she’s pointing to herself.
