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"Thanks, Mama. I'm walking to my place right now. I'll call you tonight, okay?"
"Sure, honey. Now you take care of yourself."
I passed by a row of old oak trees that arched over the street, creating a tunnel-like canopy of green leaves overhead.
The crunch of fallen acorns under my slippers comforted me. As I neared my apartment, I noticed the cheerful chatter of neighbors on their front porches, enjoying the cool evening breeze.
The sound of a bluesy guitar riff drifted out of an open window. The chattering grew silent as I walked past the houses.
I could feel tiny eyes on my skin, watching every step I took. I could almost hear their unasked questions.
Balling my hands into fists, I walked up the steps and almost collided with the man standing just outside my door.
"I'm telling you, I don't know why that old fart left me anything, okay? I don't know which apartment you're from, but you take your damn casserole and skedaddle on back there, damn you!"
I shouted loud enough to scare neighbors from three homes away, but the man turned around and—
And I lost myself in an ocean of aquamarine.
"Well, hello. I didn't mean to make you this angry right from the get-go. I just moved next door. I'm Reed Smith. I also don't have a casserole. Just a slice of pie."
7
Grizzly
Amonth ago, we got a new case. An eccentric old lady, wealthy as all hell, was convinced her neighbors had "trained" their cat to spy on her.
The context, in this case, was—I always took what the rich had to say with a pinch of salt. Or a whole damn block.
And never in my whole life had I wanted someone to be innocent this badly.
Coming from someone who'd seen his and a whole neighborhood's share of evil, it was a refreshing change.
Usually, when I encountered a suspect, I looked at him like a hunter preparing to lead his prey into a pitfall. I didn't care about their innocence.
They'd done something wrong, and in the world of the SEALs, the wrong was exponential. It meant they didn't get to have any other chances.
But I wasn't a SEAL any longer. Had I gone soft?
Because Juniper Davis looked like she could be a mix of Marilyn Monroe and Sophia Loren.
Curvy, hair like brown butter, eyes so big and doe-like I could drown in them all day long.
Was this supposed to happen when we crossed forty? I steeled myself but didn't let it show.
She led me into her little apartment and fixed sweet tea for the both of us.
"So, Reed Smith. When did you move in?"
I almost couldn't take my eyes away from the glow of her skin or how dimples played hide-and-seek on her cheeks each time she smiled.
"Uh, not too long ago. We moved in last night, in fact. Bit of an emergency. I got a tip that needed me to move to Oakmont. Thankfully, my best buddies already lived here. We kinda just decided to wing it and get our place together. Call it living the teenage fantasy, only years later."
"Are you from around here?"
"I was born here, but I've been around the last few years. Perks of the job."
Her eyes lit up immediately. "What part of the world have you seen? I love jobs that let you travel!"
