19. Garrett
CHAPTER 19
Garrett
Cruising down the winding highway, I headed back toward town. I’d been out on patrol all morning, checking on some of the more remote areas of the county. Nothing much was happening. I’d noted an old truck with a taillight out and pulled him over just to let him know. Other than that, it had been a quiet morning.
I wore my aviators against the glare of the sun and my mind drifted as I drove. Town chatter about the Joyner case hadn’t died down. New leads were coming in, which would have been great, if they’d been legit. But mostly they were just wasting our time.
Brenna’s voice came over my radio. “Possible breaking and entering at 45 West Sunnybrook Lane.”
“Squad seven,” I replied.
“Go ahead squad seven.”
“I’m not far from that location. I can go take a look.”
“10-4, squad seven.”
“Proceeding to 45 West Sunnybrook Lane.”
I drove to the location and parked outside a small white house. On the porch, dressed in a pink housecoat, was a little old lady every first responder in Tilikum knew all too well. Mavis Doolittle.
I keyed my mic. “Squad seven.”
“Go ahead, squad seven.”
“Put me at 45 West Sunnybrook Lane, possible breaking and entering. But Brenna, this is Mavis Doolittle’s house.”
“That’s correct.”
Kade’s voice cut in. “Better you than me.”
I sighed. Mavis Doolittle was notorious for her questionable emergency calls. It had been a while since she’d called anything in, probably because the fire department had threatened to fine her.
“Maybe I need backup on this, Sheehan. How soon can you get over here?”
Kade chuckled. “I’m sure you can handle anything Mrs. Doolittle can dole out.”
“I’ll check it out. But, Brenna, this better not be a bogus call.”
“She was insistent,” Brenna said. “Said she came home from the salon and found evidence of a break in.”
Maybe someone really had broken into her house. She was unreliable, but we couldn’t blow her off.
Mavis was probably in her eighties, a tiny lady with a head full of tight, white curls. She patted her hair, then wrung her hands together.
“Deputy, I’m so glad you’re here. It’s terrible. Just terrible.”
“Afternoon, ma’am. Can you tell me what happened?”
She leaned against the railing and took halting steps down the stairs. “I was at the salon. A woman has to maintain her appearance.”
I waited while she stopped in front of me and patted her hair again.
“When I came home, I went inside and I knew something wasn’t right. ”
“Was your door open or anything broken?”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Okay. Then why do you think someone broke into your house?”
“He ate the cookies I left out on my kitchen table.”
I hesitated. Not a bogus call, my ass. “Someone broke in and ate your cookies.”
“Yes.” She grabbed my arm, as if to tug me closer. Her eyes brightened and she squeezed a few times. “Oh my. They really did send me a nice, strong man, didn’t they?”
I gently eased out of her grip. “I’ll have you stay out here while I go inside and check things out. Make sure it’s safe.”
“Oh, it’s not safe. He’s still in there.”
A ripple of tension swept through me. “Still in your house?”
“I think so.”
Something wasn’t adding up. She was awfully calm for an elderly woman with a suspect in her house.
A cookie-eating suspect?
“Wait here, please.”
She touched my arm again. “Be careful.”
“I will, ma’am.” I keyed my mic to report in to dispatch. “Squad seven.”
“Go ahead, squad seven.”
“Mrs. Doolittle claims someone broke in and stole cookies. I’d chalk it up to typical Mavis, but she also says the suspect is still inside. I’m going in to take a look.”
“Stole cookies?” Brenna asked.
“That’s what she said.”
The door was unlocked, so I eased it open and scanned the entryway. Nothing unusual, other than the cloying scent of something floral. It was so strong it almost made my eyes water.
“Tilikum Sheriff’s department,” I called out to identify myself to anyone who might be inside .
I didn’t hear any movement. The living room off the entry was empty, just a couch with a plastic liner and an antique-looking coffee table. Senses on high alert, I made my way toward the kitchen.
In the center of her small kitchen table was a dessert massacre. Crumbs and pieces of broken cookies were everywhere. It looked like what would happen if my three-year-old nephew, Will, had been left alone with a plate of cookies for more than a few minutes.
No wonder Mavis thought someone had broken into her house.
But who would do that? And why leave such a mess?
A rustling sound made me turn, my hand straying near my sidearm. “Mrs. Doolittle, is that you? I need you to wait outside.”
No reply.
Taking slow steps, I moved in the direction of the sound. A piece of cookie crunched under my shoe. My brow furrowed as I glanced into the dining room. I didn’t see anything, until—
A streak of gray fur flew through the air. Instinctively, I put my arms up to shield my face.
The squirrel landed on my shoulder, its claws pinching through my uniform. It scampered across my back and leaped onto the floor.
“Damn it.”
I followed it into the kitchen, wondering how the hell I was going to get a squirrel out of Mavis Doolittle’s house.
I keyed my mic again. “Squad seven.”
“Go ahead, squad seven.”
“Suspect is a squirrel. On the loose in the house.”
“Now this makes sense,” Brenna said. “Be careful. Those little things are shifty.”
“Yeah, tell me about it.”
I didn’t see the squirrel in the kitchen, so I backtracked toward the front door and checked the living room. Not there, either. Had it run upstairs?
And how had it gotten in, anyway?
A quick trip upstairs revealed the mode of entry. One of the windows in Mrs. Doolittle’s bedroom was open. The tree outside had a few branches that reached toward the house, close enough that the squirrel could jump the distance and scamper inside.
Was it too much to hope the little guy had escaped the way it had come?
I couldn’t leave until I was sure. I searched upstairs, closing doors behind me so it wouldn’t run into one of the bedrooms if it was still inside. With no trace of it, I grabbed a towel out of the hall bath in case I needed to catch it, and went down to the main floor.
Maybe it was gone.
A chattering sound coming from the kitchen made me freeze in my tracks. Holding up the towel, I tried to be as quiet as possible as I moved toward the noise.
The little asshole sat on the table, right in the center of the cookie carnage, stuffing its face. Its fluffy tail twitched and it looked right at me, but didn’t stop eating.
I kept the towel raised, ready to throw it on the squirrel, and slowly moved closer.
That’s it, little thief. Keep shoving food in your face. Don’t worry about what I’m doing.
As soon as I tossed the towel, it bolted, scattering crumbs everywhere. In one quick motion, I grabbed the towel and pivoted. The squirrel dashed across the kitchen, climbed onto the counter, and ran across the front of the sink. I threw the towel again, aiming ahead of it, but it jumped on top of the fridge and disappeared.
“I know you’re up there.” I picked up the towel again. “You’re backed into a corner, my friend. Nowhere to go.”
A streak of fur flew from the top of the refrigerator and slid across the kitchen floor, back legs splayed. I dropped the towel onto it, but I was a second too late. Before I could wrap it up, it escaped out the other side.
I followed it into the living room, where it climbed the curtain and paused to look at me, beady black eyes full of… well, fear, most likely. But in the moment, it looked like rebellion.
I couldn’t keep chasing this thing around the house. I needed a new plan.
You worked in law enforcement in Tilikum long enough, you learned a few things. This wasn’t my first squirrel rodeo.
I left the squirrel hanging from the curtain and went back to the kitchen. A quick peek through Mrs. Doolittle’s cupboards, and I found what I needed.
Peanut butter. I just hoped the squirrel wasn’t too full of cookies for this to work.
I scooped out a big spoonful and stuck on some cookie pieces for good measure. Then I set it on the floor, crouched with the towel, and waited.
The scent lured it. Within moments, the squirrel came in, fluffy tail twitching. It stopped on its hind legs about a foot from the peanut butter and scrunched its nose. Despite having already decimated a plate of cookies, it went in.
I waited, my heart beating hard. The squirrel seemed to ignore me, intent on its snack. In my head, I heard the voice of William Wallace in the movie Braveheart .
Hold… Hold… Hold…
Now!
I scooped the squirrel into the towel and held the sides together, making a little sack. It thrashed around, trying to get out as I rushed to the back door.
“It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”
I opened the door and hurried out into Mrs. Doolittle’s backyard while the squirrel tried to tear its way out of the towel. As gently as I could, I set it on the grass and let go, jumping away in case it came out heading toward me.
The towel fell open and the squirrel darted out, but stopped a couple of feet away. It turned, black eyes wide, and stared at me, as if to say, what the fuck, man?
“Pretty sure you ate a week’s worth of food in there. You’ll be fine.”
With that, it scampered away.
Blowing out a breath, I picked up the towel and took it inside.
I went to the front to let Mrs. Doolittle know she could come back in.
“Did you find him?” she asked as she followed me into the house.
“Were you aware it was a squirrel, Mrs. Doolittle?”
“Was it? Oh my goodness gracious, no wonder it left such a mess.”
I eyed her with skepticism. She just beamed up at me, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“You should consider putting a screen in the bedroom window upstairs. I think that’s how it got in.”
Her mouth twitched in a grin. “The bedroom, you say? Perhaps you should show me.”
“I borrowed a towel to catch the squirrel and used some of your peanut butter as a lure.”
“Smart and handsome. Such a combination.”
I ignored that. “Do you need help cleaning up?”
“No, no.” She waved a hand. “I’ll take care of it. Would you like to stay? I can fix you a snack. Maybe give you a nice foot rub. It’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you anyway, ma’am, but I need to get back to work.”
“Are you sure? These hands don’t look like much now, but I still know how to use them. ”
I didn’t know if she was still talking about a foot rub, or something else. And I didn’t want to find out.
“Have a good day, ma’am.”
Without waiting for a reply, I left through the front door and went straight for my car.
I keyed my mic to check in. “Squad seven.”
“Go ahead, squad seven.”
“Squirrel was safely removed. I’m heading into the office.”
“You get out in one piece?” Brenna asked, a hint of humor in her voice.
“She offered me a foot rub before I left.”
She laughed. “At least that was all.”
“We should send Kate if she calls again. She gets a female deputy enough times, she might go back to calling the fire department.”
“Good idea.”
I shook my head and pulled out of the driveway. At least it hadn’t been a totally bogus call. There really had been an intruder in her house. And it certainly wasn’t the first time I’d been on a squirrel call. Happened all the time in Tilikum.
The corners of my mouth lifted as I imagined the way Harper was going to laugh when I told her that story.
For once, instead of worrying about what it all meant, and whether we were moving too fast, I let thoughts of Harper run uninhibited through my mind. And I smiled even bigger.