Chapter 7
Tristan tugged on Morgan’s arm. “Your boyfriend, Mr. Dawson, works for the police department?”
“Correct. He’s a Locke Village police officer.”
“Does he have his own car?”
“Yes, Wyatt has his own patrol car.”
“Cool.” Tristan did a sidestep, almost skipping down the snow-covered sidewalk as they made their way to the Locke Village Police Department’s main entrance.
Morgan held the door and followed her nephew into the lobby. The compact brick building, only a few years old, reminded her of a boring box. Unless you knew what it was, you would drive right past without giving it a second glance.
The lobby, not much more than an oversized cubicle, matched the dull, drab exterior. Fluorescent bulbs cast a yellow glow on the gray-blue walls. A bulletproof shield of clear acrylic glass separated visitors from the clerk on the other side.
Morgan immediately recognized the woman seated on the stool and greeted her by name.
“Good morning, Morgan. Wyatt mentioned you might stop by.”
“This is my nephew Tristan. He recently moved to Easton Island. Wyatt has offered to give him a tour.”
“I’ll let him know you’re here.” The woman lowered her gaze and tapped the keyboard. “He’ll be right up.”
While they waited, Tristan studied the wanted posters on the bulletin board. “These are real criminals.”
“Criminals we don’t want to meet,” Morgan added.
Buzz. Wyatt appeared in the doorway. He caught Morgan’s eye and waved her over.
“I guess I should have called to give you a heads-up we were on our way. Is now a good time for a tour?”
“Absolutely.” Wyatt patted Tristan’s shoulder. “Have you ever been inside a police station?”
“No.” Tristan tapped his foot. “It’s kinda ugly.”
“It certainly won’t win any décor awards.” Wyatt motioned for them to follow him down a long hall, leading Morgan and her nephew past several offices, the walls sporting the same dull, drab shades. “Our police captain and part-time investigator work here.”
“Awesome,” Tristan said. “Do you have a jail to lock the bad guys up?”
“We do. It’s more of a holding cell. Depending on the offense, some are transferred to a larger facility on the mainland while others pay money to bond out.” Wyatt gave a simple explanation of how the process worked. He showed them the booking room and the interrogation room.
“Where do you work?”
“I spend most of my time patrolling the island. My office is back here.” He showed them a large room filled with desks and wall dividers. “My desk is over there.”
Morgan tiptoed over to take a closer look.
Clustered on one side was a family photo of Wyatt’s parents and siblings.
Another photo, an action shot of Wyatt zip lining, sat next to it, while the third was of Morgan, Wyatt and Chester chilling on Looking Glass Cottage’s beach with the sun setting behind them, the skies vibrant shades of pink and orange.
“Do you use ink to take fingerprints like in the movies?”
“Sometimes. For the most part, we use LiveScan. It’s basically a glass plate that digitally scans fingerprints. Would you like to try it?”
“Sure.” Tristan did a happy dance. “I’ve never been fingerprinted before.”
“Which is a good thing. It means you’ve never been in trouble with the law.”
Backtracking, the trio returned to a room near the front. Off to the side was what appeared to be a small printer.
Wyatt turned the machine on. A green screen popped up. “Press your thumb down on this glass plate.”
Tristan did as Wyatt instructed. An image of a fingerprint appeared on the laptop screen sitting next to the device. “This is your fingerprint. After taking prints of all of your fingers, we would go next door where the mugshots, or arrest photos, are taken.”
“I wish I had a fingerprint machine,” the boy marveled. “Can we go see the holding cell?”
“Unfortunately, someone is in there right now.”
Tristan’s excitement was short-lived. “Bummer.”
“I can, however, show you the inside of my patrol car.”
“Okay.” Tristan ran to the door, almost as if he was afraid if they took too long, Wyatt would change his mind.
Morgan caught her boyfriend’s eye and winked. Wyatt’s patience with the inquisitive boy, who was firing off questions at a rapid rate, made her love him even more. She had no doubt her boyfriend would one day be a wonderful father and husband for some lucky woman…maybe even her.
Exiting through the back door, the trio crossed the parking lot, where a handful of patrol cars sat parked. Wyatt unlocked the door of the car at the end, the one closest to the station.
“Can I sit up front?” Tristan clapped his hands, a look of pure joy on his face.
“If Morgan doesn’t mind sitting behind the cage.”
“Not at all.” She climbed in the back.
“What does this do?” Tristan tapped a knob on the dashboard.
“It’s my police monitor’s volume button.”
Morgan sat quietly listening while he explained the gadgets and gizmos. He let Tristan turn the sirens and lights on and even handcuffed him for a moment.
“This was the coolest tour ever,” Tristan said. “I’m gonna be a police officer one day, like you.”
“It can be dangerous,” Wyatt warned.
“I want to help people.”
“It’s a noble profession, but as Wyatt said, it can also be dangerous.” Morgan thought about the time, not too long ago, when he’d been struck by a car and rushed to the hospital. Hours of sheer terror followed…hours she’d spent in the ER pacing and praying.
Tristan grew quiet, and she could see his wheels spinning. “I’ll be careful,” he promised. “I want to be one of the good guys who catch the bad guys and keep everybody safe.”
Wyatt’s radio blared. It was the front desk letting him know he had a call waiting.
“I need to get back to work, buddy.”
“Thanks for showing me ‘n Aunt Morgan around.” Tristan hopped out and slammed the door.
Wyatt caught up with them in front of the patrol car. “You’re welcome.”
“This is the best day ever.”
Wyatt playfully ruffled his hair. “Take good care of my girl.”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
Morgan and her nephew parted ways with her boyfriend near the sidewalk. Over the top of his head, she mouthed the words, thank you.
Wyatt blew her a kiss before disappearing inside the building.
Tristan, taking his promise seriously, held her hand until they reached her SUV. “Wyatt has the coolest job ever.”
“Cool and dangerous.” Morgan patted her stomach. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Grandmother is at the art gallery. Let’s see if she has time to have lunch with us.”