Chapter 11 Kipp
Kipp
Today was an office day, and I hated the necessity of it with a fiery passion.
I always preferred being outside doing something, even if it was just patrolling, rather than filling out paperwork or dealing with Roger, who seemed never to leave.
He was the quintessential cop you thought of — fucker always had a doughnut in his hand.
If you needed a partner out in the field, he wasn’t the guy you’d ask for, and if you needed someone to watch your back in a shootout, he definitely wasn’t your man.
The guy had a mile-wide cowardly streak.
My biggest issue with him was that he knew he was incompetent and didn’t care.
There was no pressure to improve or to accept help.
Hell, I had offered multiple times to work with him on his tracking or his shooting, but he had declined.
That was something I couldn’t support. If someone wasn’t good at something, that was okay as long as they were willing to try, but Roger was content to be shit.
My mind was already cloudy as I waited for Fish to finish his kibble, the bad mood I woke up with settling around me like a fog.
Clipping my badge to my belt, I shrugged into my uniform shirt and tucked it into my jeans, the spot between my shoulder blades tingling at the thought of Hattie sleeping in a cabin on my property.
Fish trotted ahead of me as I locked up and we headed down the stairs, his tail wagging, making his whole butt move as if the world was simple and good. For him, everything was easy and straightforward. He had shelter, food, and someone who loved him. I guess it was simple.
The woods were already leaning toward a hot day; August here was blistering, and I was already looking forward to late fall when we’d finally get some moisture.
It was hard to believe that summer could be so dry when we’d had such heavy rains earlier in the year.
The creek on the property had slowed to a trickle, and even the falls stopped flowing.
There were good things about the seasons, of course, from my perspective, but it did mean we had to be on the lookout for fire danger.
Starting the truck, I frowned before reversing from my spot, but my eyes drifted towards Hattie’s.
That was another problem all by itself. My brain was now registering Cabin Six as hers.
It was still quiet over there, her small SUV parked in the space tidily, and the blinds drawn across the windows.
As predicted, Roger had his meaty paw wrapped around a glazed doughnut while he talked to Cinda at the front desk.
“Hey, Kipp. How are you today?” Roger chewed noisily as he stood hastily, yanking up his belt with his other hand as he shuffled after me. “Got paperwork, huh? Does Fish want a doughnut?” He made kissy noises at Fish, who looked more than intrigued at the thought of a treat.
“Got to file some stuff, and no Fish can’t have a doughnut.” There was no need to be rude about anything, even though the guy grated on my nerves. Nodding to Cinda, I moved back to the desk, which was typically my designated space, as Roger chit-chatted about his random shit.
“You got any big cases you’re working on? Things are boring around here right now.” The words were almost a whine. “We could use something exciting.” He licked icing off one of his fingers, and I cringed.
My teeth ground together. Action like that meant someone was in trouble — usually either we’d been called to assist in a rescue or we were on the hunt for a poaching operation of some kind.
Neither was good news for anyone or anything.
Don’t get me wrong, we all liked to be on the move and in the thick of things, so part of me understood where he was coming from.
Quiet days could be tough to handle, and there was an undeniable rush in tracking, but that was all part of the job.
I also took pride in other aspects of my work — patrolling and checking remote areas, engaging with people who used them, and providing education to ensure they understood why rules existed in the first place.
Roger wasn’t much into leaving the office if he could help it.
“No big cases.” I pressed my lips together as I grabbed the folders I needed.
OSP was still living in the dark ages. They were trying their best, but they were slow to switch to a fully digital system.
It only caused me to duplicate my work, but I dutifully started writing out my reports so they could be filed.
Roger had moved himself over to the desk next to mine and seemed to be waiting for me to say something else.
“Probably pick up with deer season,” I added.
That started at the beginning of September, and there were always some idiots getting lost or shooting themselves in the foot.
He nodded sagely like he gave a shit. “True true. We’ve got a couple of courses coming up. I’m going to teach them this year.”
Hunter safety courses were important, and I wasn’t sure that Roger was the right person for the job, but that wasn’t my call.
You could volunteer for them if you were so inclined, but it meant being face-to-face with a whole bunch of people for hours.
Not my sort of scene. The bosses knew that about me and typically only made me do one every few years.
“You’ll do great. Hey, I’ve got to get these done.” I indicated the forms and gave him what might have passed for a smile, but was probably more of a grimace.
“Thanks.” He puffed up happily, totally ignoring the fact that I had paperwork to do. “I think I’m good with people and gun safety.”
For fuck’s sake.
I bent back over the forms, angling my body just enough to signal that the conversation was over.
Roger hovered for another beat, then wandered back toward the front, his chair squeaking as he dropped into it.
The room settled into the familiar hum of fluorescent lights and the low clatter of the keyboard from Cinda’s desk.
Every once in a while, the phone would ring, and she’d answer it in her best elevator pitch voice.
“Oh? A question about the preserve? I probably have someone who could …” I went on alert and frantically pointed to Roger, who beamed. Cinda nodded at me, understanding perfectly. “Let me get you over to Roger. Hold please.”
‘Thank you,’ I mouthed to her before telling myself I needed to focus.
My handwriting was one of my better qualities. One of our teachers had insisted on good penmanship, and because I kept a wildlife log, I liked to keep it neat even when my thoughts weren’t.
It was a little like the paperwork. It all mattered.
If you had sloppy reports, that was how cases could be unraveled later and how your own credibility slipped.
Everything should be tight. I had seen it happen more than once on the stand.
Going to court was part of our job when we had bigger cases.
Most of the time, things could be settled with a fine, but there were times when we had to take a stand, and I wouldn’t be caught out because I didn’t log things properly.
Halfway through the second form, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Grinding my teeth together, I forced myself to ignore it. It buzzed again. With a quiet sigh, I fished it out and glanced down.
Wade
So, you haven’t told me about your new tenant yet. When are you going to come clean?
My brother could be such a pain in the ass, but he was right about me avoiding him the past few days. Normally, I would have already told him all about her. Snorting under my breath, I typed back one-handed.
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
That was a lie. I knew exactly what he was talking about. There were no secrets among our family. Levi and Maggie had instilled in us early on that secrets led to problems in relationships.
The dots appeared almost immediately.
Wade
Uh-huh. I mean the woman Sage saw you talking to in town. You forget how words work. You know you’re just making us all more curious, right?
I rolled my shoulders, tension creeping up my neck as indecision battled through me. Letting Hattie rent a cabin had been temporary insanity, especially after finding out what she called a profession.
Staring at the screen for a few more minutes, I thought about it and quickly sent a text.
She’s in town temporarily, and she’s a true-crime podcaster. I’m not sure that’s something I can get past, even if I were going to ask her out.
There was a pause. Long enough that I knew he was processing that.
Wade wouldn’t like it either. We were both cut from the same cloth in our thinking about law enforcement, even if we didn’t approach it from the same angles all the time.
Wade had served in the military, and that experience had made him a better cop.
It hadn’t been a path I’d wanted to take.
All those close quarters and teams, but it had been good for him.
Still, I knew he and I would be like-minded about this.
Wade
…well, that took a turn. Have you listened to it?
I glanced around the office. Roger was laughing at something on his computer. Cinda was on the phone. No one was paying attention to me.
No.
Another pause.
Wade
Well, maybe you should. What is she here for? Or is she just on vacation or some shit?
There was no way she was just on vacation. In fact, I was 99% sure she was here investigating something. She’d been honest about it. My instincts had already clocked her as trouble.
Pretty sure she’s not.
Wade
Stop being an idiot and ask her out.
I didn’t bother replying; instead, I slid my phone back into my pocket. There was paperwork to finish, and this conversation wasn’t getting anywhere. Ignoring Hattie wasn’t really serving a purpose either, so maybe I should address that, but that was a problem for later.
The rest of the paperwork went quickly, mostly because I kept detailed notes in my wildlife journal, making reporting always pretty straightforward, even if it was tedious.
When I finished the last form, I stacked everything, clipped it together, and placed it in an appropriate mailer before dropping it in the outbox by Cinda’s desk.
“Have a good one, Kipp,” Cinda gave me an easy wave before bending back to her work. “Stay safe.”
Roger lifted his doughnut in a lazy salute. “Try not to get bored out there.”
Outside, the heat hit me full in the chest, thick and unmoving.
Taking a deep breath, I let the sun and open space reset me.
Fish clamored into the truck, gave my cheek a lick, and cocked his head at me.
It was time for his daily run, well, our daily run.
He had a lot of energy most of the time—if he didn’t get a run in, he could be a destructive little shit.
I pulled out of the lot, the station shrinking in the rearview mirror, and headed back toward the trees where things made sense.