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Epilogue
If you’ve ever passed your husband while he was making a bust, and you don’t make eye contact.
-You might be a police wife.
Trance
4 years later
“Uhh, Unit 5-2, we’ve got a child on the line for you.” Dispatch said over the radio with a touch of amusement in her voice.
The table of cops surrounding me all turned to look at me, and I sighed.
“10-4. Patch her through.” I moaned, covering my face with my hands.
Sometimes I wanted to beat my head against a table for my stupidity. Unknowingly, I’d taught our oldest child, Oakley, how to dial 911 if she ever needed me. Well, not necessarily me, per se, but the police in general. I’d told her if she was ever in need of help, to call me or daddy’s friends.
She took it seriously.
In the two weeks she’d known how to dial 911, she’d called it no less than five times since. I’d yet to tell Viddy that she was doing it, though. I kind of liked that she knew she could call me if she needed me. I only wished she didn’t dial 911 to do it.
I’d have to break her of it sooner or later, but since we were such a small town, everyone looked at it to be more ‘cute’ than annoying.
“Daddy?” Oakley’s cute little voice said over the airwaves.
Everybody with a radio had to be smiling with how cute and sweet she sounded. Hell, I was beaming from ear to ear.
“Yes, baby.” I answered.
“Mommy won’t let me get more chocolate milk.” My little angel said.
The chief’s face showed longing as he listened to the encounter, and I knew he wished his children were that small again. My kids loved The Chief and he loved them back.
“You know you only get one cup of chocolate milk a day.” I chastised her gently.
Loki’s eyes were bright with laughter as he listened to our conversation. He was Oakley’s godfather and she hadhim wrapped around her little finger.
“Fort ate my darts again.” Oakley whined.
Fort was actually named Ford, and was our fifteen-month-old son, and he was a little hellion.
Then again, so was Oakley.
“You know mommy told you not to shoot those with your brother around.” I explained to her.
I’d bought her a Nerf gun for her birthday after she started to show interest in my own side arm. In the interest of early gun safety, I taught her all the rules that came with having something special like a gun, and she loved it. The only problem was the fact that our son liked to chew on the spongy darts because they felt good on his gums.
“Yeah, that’s what mommy said.Gotstago, daddy. Mommy’scawin’. I lub you.” She sang.
Before I could answer she was gone, and every single man at our table had a soft smile on their face.
“You’re daughter’s a spitfire, just like her momma.” The Chief observed.
I nodded.
“You’ve got that right.” I confirmed.
“Alright, let’s hand out the grids and get y’all on patrol.” The Chief announced, effectively putting an end to my good day.
