5. The Dart Game
The Dart Game
WYATT
By the time we pulled up, hospital security was already at the entrance. "Third floor. East wing. No smoke, no visible fire. We think it's a detector but we can't get the panel to reset."
We went up together. The hallway on three was clear. No smoke, no heat, no smell. A detector outside the supply closet was blinking red and screaming for no reason. We swept the wing, confirmed there was nothing, and let hospital maintenance handle the unit.
"All clear," I radioed. "Malfunctioning detector. No fire condition. Cancel the other units."
We came back down through the main corridor. The ER was to our right, visible through a set of glass doors as we headed for the exit. Knox slowed down. His eyes moved across the nurses' station, the check-in desk, the hallway beyond it.
"Are you looking for someone?" I asked.
He looked at me. "No."
I let it go. Knox didn't give you more than he wanted to, and pushing only made him give you less.
We cleared the building and loaded back into the engine. Travis stretched across the bench seat and groaned.
"I just want to sleep for twelve hours and then go get a beer. Is that too much to ask?" He looked at me. "Lantern tomorrow night?"
"I'm sorry you have to stay over again, Barb."
Barb was already settled on the couch with a blanket and a paperback.
"As if I have anywhere else to be." She scoffed good-naturedly. "I'm an old lady. I want to be asleep by nine. Birdie and I have the same bedtime, so it works out perfectly."
I'd set up a spare bed in Birdie's room for nights like this. On days when I was on shift and on nights when I went out with the guys, Barb stayed over.
She waved me toward the door without looking up from her page. "Get out of my house."
"It's my house."
"Not tonight it isn't."
"Thanks, Barb."
I checked on Birdie on my way out. She was already asleep, one arm around a stuffed elephant, the other hanging off the side of the bed. I pulled the blanket over her shoulder, kissed her forehead, and left the door cracked.
The crew was already at the pool table when I got there. Greene was lining up a shot. Travis had gotten hold of a steak knife from somewhere and was lining up a throw at the dartboard like he was about to make history.
Selena pointed at him from behind the bar. "Boy, if you don't put that knife down."
Travis put both hands up like she'd drawn a weapon on him. The knife clattered on the table.
"Mr. Brooks!" Terrence pushed his glasses up with the back of his wrist. "Good to see you."
"Hey, Terrence. How'd the exam go?"
"Ninety-two."
"That's great. Congratulations."
"Thank you, sir." He set a beer in front of me without being asked.
The night settled into itself after that. Pool, drinks, the sound of guys who saw each other every shift and still hadn't run out of things to say. Gus came out from the back and put fresh pretzels on the bar. Daphne's flower arrangements on the tables were pink and yellow this week.
"Did you hear?" Knox walked up beside me. "Gus got another call from Lockwood."
"You're kidding. They really don't know when to give up, do they?"
I took a drink. Somewhere behind us, Travis was arguing with Greene about a shot that may or may not have been a scratch. Then the noise at the pool table stopped, and a groan went through the crew. I turned to see what they were looking at.
Andy Walsh.
I'd seen her out of uniform a couple of times before.
Both times it caught me off guard, and this was no different.
Her braid was down, loose over one shoulder, framing her face in a way the tactical bun never did.
Dark jeans, boots, a fitted jacket. She looked exactly like the kind of woman who could ruin your night and look good doing it.
A couple of the guys started heckling. Something about a cop being lost, something about calling the real authorities.
"You boys leave Officer Walsh alone!" Selena called from behind the bar without missing a beat.
Andy sat down at the counter. Gus set a napkin in front of her, took her order, and headed to the other end of the bar. She pulled a book out of her bag, propped it against the edge of the counter, and started reading.
I should have left it alone. She was clearly not interested in conversation. Everything about her posture said don't.
But the opportunity was too good to pass up.
I set my beer down on the table and walked up to her.
"You know, I heard a rumor that cops don't know how to read."
She didn't look up. "Well, this one does."
"What's that you're reading?" I sat down on the stool beside her.
She looked up from her book. "What do you want, Brooks?"
"To make small talk?"
She turned back to her book without answering. Behind me, the crew was watching.
"You're striking out, buddy," Travis called from the table.
"Let the man work," Knox said.
I stayed on the stool. Andy kept reading. I didn't mind. She was two feet away and she hadn't told me to leave.
Travis walked over with a dart in his hand. He stopped in front of Andy, smiling ear to ear.
"Look. Everyone knows this is a firefighter's bar. And we're happy to share it with a cop." He paused for effect. "If she can earn her seat." He held out the dart to her.
Andy looked at the dart, then at Travis. "You're joking, right?"
"Why? Scared of losing, Officer Walsh?"
Knox called from across the room. "You're really going to challenge a cop to a dart game? She gets paid to hit targets at fifty feet."
Travis didn't flinch. "Well, it shouldn't be hard for her then."
Knox shrugged. He tried.
Andy closed her book. She stood up, took the dart from Travis's hand, and walked to the line.
Travis followed her to the board. "Okay, so the rules are simple. We play 301. You start at 301 points, and you work your way down. Doubles to open, doubles to close. Best of three legs. Do you need me to explain what a double is?"
"Throw the dart, Travis."
Travis threw first. He wasn't bad. He hit the board with confidence and scored a decent round. Enough to make him turn around like he'd already won.
Then Andy stepped up.
The first throw hit the double twenty. Clean open. The second throw sank into the triple nineteen. The third landed in the triple seventeen. Travis threw well enough, but it didn't matter. Every time he stepped up, Andy stepped up after him and erased whatever ground he'd gained.
By the end of her first leg, half the bar had stopped what they were doing. By the second, Travis had both hands on his head. She closed the third leg on a double sixteen with one throw, dead center, no hesitation.
The crew closed in around her. Gus slid a drink down the bar. Greene clapped. Carl was shaking his head. Someone pulled a chair over and Andy dropped into it like she'd been sitting with them all night.
"I want a rematch," Travis said.
"You sure about that?"
"No. But I'm asking anyway."
She laughed. It was the first time I'd heard it. She started giving Travis a hard time about his grip, his stance, the way he lined up his shots with his tongue out. Travis took all of it with his chest puffed and his arms wide open, loving every second. The crew was in stitches.
I was standing three feet away and I couldn't stop watching her.
This was a version of Andy Walsh I'd never seen.
She wasn't guarded like she was on scene, arms crossed, eyes sharp, everything locked down.
She was still sharp, still dry, still the woman who'd pulled herself out of an elevator rather than take my hand.
But whatever wall she kept up on duty wasn't here tonight.
She was matching them joke for joke, settling in like the seat had always been hers.
The bar started thinning out past midnight. Greene was first to say he had an early morning, something with his wife's car. Carl followed. Travis stopped at the bar on his way out and pointed at Andy. "Same time next week. I'm practicing."
"You're going to need it," Andy said.
Travis grinned and slapped the bar twice. The rest of the crew filtered out after him.
Andy stood up and set her glass on the bar. "Thank you, Gus. Good night, Selena. Night, Terrence."
"Good night, Andy," Gus said. "Get home safe."
She headed for the door.
"Hey, Walsh! Wait up!"
She was already on the sidewalk when I caught up to her.
"It's not safe for a woman to walk home alone."
She looked at me. "Which of the two of us is the cop?"
"Right. I forgot because you're not in uniform."
She kept walking. I fell in step beside her.
The block was quiet. Porch lights were on and someone's TV hummed through a screen door. I looked at Andy. She was staring straight ahead, not acknowledging me, but she wasn't walking ahead of me either. She was letting me walk beside her without giving me the satisfaction of knowing it.
"Where did you learn to play darts like that?" I asked.
Andy didn't answer right away. We walked a few more steps before she said anything.
"My dad. We played a lot when I was younger. He taught me how to throw a dart and how to shoot."
I went quiet for a while. "That must be nice."
"How long have you guys been going to The Lantern?" she asked.
"Since I joined the department. The crew just gravitated there. Gus has a way of making you feel like you've been coming your whole life."
Andy was quiet for a few steps. "He's a good man."
"Yeah. He is."
The rest of the walk was comfortable silence, just our footsteps and the sound of a neighborhood that had already turned in.
We were almost at our houses when I said it. "That was fun tonight."
"Yeah." She almost smiled. "I had a great time. Even if you guys took up the time I planned to use to read my book."
She smiled at me. I'd never seen that smile before. And I knew right then I was going to spend a lot of time trying to coax it out of her again.
"Good night, Brooks."
"Good night, Officer Walsh."