2. Trent
2
TRENT
“ J esus, I hate the waiting game,” my partner Chase says, opening the door before sitting in the passenger seat. He closes the door behind him with two cups of coffee in hand, and I reach for one. There are advantages and disadvantages to this job, a job that doesn’t always seem like one when you’re taking the bad shit off the streets. Then there’s the downside, like tonight. Where you’re sitting and waiting for hours on end, never knowing if you’ll make it home to catch a few hours of sleep or get any sleep at all.
“Thanks for the coffee.” I lift mine to him in a salute. Chase has been with me for the past few years. He’s older, married, has two sons he’s currently putting through college, and is almost ready to retire from the force or at the very least looking for more of a desk job.
“Never a problem. Drove right by the coffee shop on my way here, figured we could both use caffeine tonight. You see anything yet?” We’ve been sitting on this case for months now, and we’re finally catching a fucking break.
“Hell no, been staring at the same building since I got here.” The ring we are going after involves more than just your run-of- the-mill drug traffickers. This group seems to have their fingers in a whole lot of pies, selling sex, illegal guns, and who knows what else we’ll stumble upon once we get inside their buildings.
“Figures,” he grumbles. Some nights, there’s activity, and we’re able to track the comings and goings, seeing drop-offs and more of the players in the game. Right now, we’ve got our eyes on what we know is the boss in this circle, his right-hand man, and a woman all in one place. It’d be the perfect time to bust them, except we want everything to stick. Allowing them to get off on a lesser charge would mean less jail time, drugs would still be on the street and infiltrating to every town or city in our county.
“Yep, looks like it’s gonna be a long night. You mind keeping a look out for a minute? My phone is being blown the fuck up.” My eyes have been locked on the door since the trio walked into the building, and since I was by myself until a few minutes ago, I’ve ignored the constant buzzing.
“Yeah, you’ve been on watch longer than I have anyways. Do your thing.” We’ve worked together for so long that our schedule works with one another. If his boys are home from school, I’ll take the earlier shift in the evening so he can spend as much time with his family as possible. Then I’ll take off a few hours before we’re done and either head home to get some shuteye or head back to the station.
I pull my phone out. There are notifications from the group text and a phone call from my dad. I’m about to hit his name to call him back when I glance at the time. He’s probably in bed for the night, so instead, I send him a text.
Me: Hey, saw your call. Everything good?
We’ll see if he responds. In the meantime, I’ll check out what is going on with everyone else. I won’t even open up my e-mails until I’m in front of a computer. That shit takes up more time than I even want to think about right now.
Johnny: No meeting at the club Sunday. It’ll have to be at my place or someone else’s. Closed for renovations.
Asher: We can have it at my place. Gotta make sure Lennon is good with it first. The pipsqueak is at the house tonight, so getting any answers out of them will be hard with all the pictures Briar spams me with. Wish my fuckin’ sister would quit working so damn much. I’d much rather she be with Briar and Lennon instead of working around a bunch of horny college kids.
My fist tightens on my lap, thinking about Kennedy working at a bar and how I’ve yet to smooth shit over with her. I fucked up, really fucked up. The reason I’ve been unable to get through to Kennedy is because of this job right here and her working at a bar; our schedules are completely opposite. The rare times I have seen her, she goes the opposite direction to avoid me. I’ve been biding my time, but if we’re all getting together at Asher’s, I’m going after the woman I pushed away.
Fuck, I can still taste her. I can still feel the way her lithe body pressed against mine. I can hear her soft moans in my damn sleep. No fucking more. I’m not going another damn week without Kennedy. I don’t give a goddamn if I have to go nine rounds with nine of my friends. I’m getting the woman who’s meant to be mine. She and her daughter, they’ll both be mine, no matter the consequences.
Jagger: Damn, miss that girl. Being away outta the country sucks sometimes.
I shake my head. Given the chance, Jagger is out doing something. This time, he’s in Costa Rica catching the waves and I’m sure picking up a local lady for the week.
Luke: You know where the key is to my house. Even if I’m not there, feel free to use it. I’ll look at my schedule and text tomorrow.
Tysen: I’m about to be in the air. Someone send me the Cliffs, talk later.
Jude: I’m good with whatever. Not taking notes, though. You’re on your own, Ty.
Matthew: My office is available. Like the rest, I’m good with whatever.
Crew: Sorry, my place is unavailable. Plus, you pussies bitch about how cold it is.
Jagger: Bro, you freeze our balls off all for the sake of your precious computers.
Johnny: Jagger has balls. Never would have guessed.
Asher: Figure shit out. Let me know what we’re working with. I’m not talking about anyone’s balls.
Matthew: Unless it’s yours?
Jagger: Fuck all of y’all.
Crew: Thanks, but no thanks, buddy.
Asher: Where the hell is Trent? His place is always empty, too, yet he’s not offering it.
I finish going through the remaining texts. All of the guys are pissing off or pissing on one another in one joke or another. Everyone has a key or a way to enter each other’s places; it’s not even a matter of me offering my house. Though, Asher has the pad with the pool. Johnny’s house is more of a penthouse apartment. Jude’s house is as cold as the North Pole, and we usually take turns stepping outside to thaw. It doesn’t seem to bother him a single bit.
Me: I’m on a case. Depending how shit goes, I may be there, I may not. Feel free to use my place, but don’t drink all my beers, you fucks.
I back at out of that text thread and see that my dad has responded.
Dad: All good here, just checking in. Sometime this week, swing by the house. Got something I want to talk to you about.
Me: That’s a loaded statement. Everything alright?
Dad: Oh yeah. Gran is ready to turn in her keys. Which means I’ve got a set of wheels that will be sitting around. I’m sure you know someone who is looking for a car.
Me: Did Gran run something over, and I need to clear the ticket? That’s the only way she’ll willingly hand over her keys, Dad. So, what’s really going on? And yeah, I know someone who’s looking for a car. I’ll be over first thing in the morning.
Dad: Thanks, bud. Love you, stay safe.
Me: Always, love you, too.
I shut my phone down, close my eyes, and take a moment to center myself. When Dad doesn’t talk about what’s happening over the phone, it means bad fucking news. The joke I made about her needing me to get her out of a ticket isn’t out of pocket, either. My Gran has racked up more parking and speeding tickets than anyone else I know. Some I’ve been able to help take care of, others I’ve paid the dues, and she’s none the wiser. We’ve all tried to tell her it’s time to slow down and let others take care of her. Now that Dad’s retired and he’s got more time on his hands, things must have changed. This case has had me working day and night the past couple of weeks. I’ve barely come up for air. Gran now lives in the semi-attached mother-in-law suite Mom demanded Dad build years ago when she noticed both of their parents were getting up there in age. Sadly, Mom’s parents only used it for a few months before Grandad passed away suddenly from a heart attack. Grandma didn’t last much longer after losing the man she’s loved forever. Life works in mysterious ways. After that happened, Mom retired, told Dad he needed to do the same or at least take more vacations. He did the latter, only retired last year from his job at an accounting firm. They’ve been coming and going more than they ever did before. They’ll call early in the morning to tell me they’re heading to Biloxi for the weekend to gamble. They’ll do similar, only they’ll already be in Atlantic City. It’s the best of both worlds for them. Dad likes to gamble, Mom likes to take in the sights and watch a show, so they do a little bit of both.
“Sorry about that,” I tell Chase, taking another gulp of coffee.
“Ehh, no need to apologize. How many times have I had to step outside to take a call or answer a message? We’ve all got shit on our plates,” he says as the back door opens.
“Fuckin’ finally,” I state, watching as DeMarco and his second-in-command, Lynch, come into view.
“Thinkin’ we’re about to split up. Which one you want?” Chase asks.
“I’ll take DeMarco.”
“I knew you’d say that. Keep your head on a swivel. I’ll call you once I have something. If not, I’ll text later on to check in.” I watch as the two separate, each going to their separate vehicles. Chase will have to scramble to get in his car and on Lynch’s tail.
“Same to you. Coast is clear,” I tell him when I see the pair break apart and head in opposite directions. He quietly exits the vehicle and heads to his car behind me, and I wait until he’s ready and our suspects are traveling in two different directions.
Lynch goes one way and DeMarco goes the other. I wait another moment before starting my car to follow him. “Damn, doesn’t look like he’s heading home tonight. Looks like it’ll be a long one. Maybe I should have given Chase this guy,” I grunt into the too quiet car. My finger taps the audio button on the touch screen, and Seven Mary Three’s Water’s Edge is playing at a decibel so damn loud I’m rushing to turn the volume down. Any other time, I’d keep it blaring, but when you’re trying to keep a low profile, Jason Ross isn’t helping the cause.
I follow DeMarco at a safe distance, staying a few cars back, and with the way this city is laid out, it doesn’t take much to blend in. Fuck, if this were Whispering Oaks or Oak View, I’d be screwed. It seems anytime the sun sets, everyone goes home. The same can’t be said for Springdale. The population here is three times that of Oak View and six times that of Whispering Oaks. This city also doesn’t sleep, which means I’ll be getting little to no sleep, stop at my parents’ place in the morning, and then get back to fucking work.
DeMarco turns into a seedy joint fifteen minutes after our drive began. I hang back, foot on the brake and idling on the corner. Just as I’m about to settle in, my phone rings.
“This is Hawthorne,” I answer the call on the second ring when I see it’s my captain.
“Need you to come in. We’ve got everything we need. Tomorrow night is go-time. Already called Chase. He’s en route.” Captain Barrett is succinct and to the point.
“Alright.” I no sooner say the word than he’s hanging up the phone. I guess I’m heading back to the station instead of following DeMarco. Jesus, tonight really is going to be a long one.