Page 40 of Digging Deeper

“I’m surprised Chief approved it, honestly.”

His smile falters for a second, then he says, “Yeah, I’m not sure he would’ve. I don’t know what’s up with my brother, but he’s the one who made a big deal out of what a great idea he thought it was. Even told my uncle that he didn’t see any reason you couldn’t ride along as a civilian, which of course took away any issues of you not being back to work yet.”

“I don’t know what I think is stranger; the fact we don’t know anything about Aiden’s home life or how you’re brother’s been behaving.”

“Isn’t that the truth?”

At first I feel uncomfortable riding along, no uniform, no real reason to be here except to keep Jameson company, but before I know it, it’s like old times. We make observations about our patrol area. He gets me caught up on things in the neighborhoods we’ve spent the most time in. When he’s pulling someone over, I play on my phone or watch him. Last night, I’d confided to Gavin that I was most apprehensive that being in the car itself would freak me out since the last time I was out on patrol I exited for a call and never got back in. However, as I watch Jameson standing outside the car he’s pulled over in front of us for speeding in a school zone, all I feel is satisfaction. It’s good to see my partner out there dealing with a safety issue. Taking charge of a situation, one where if a kid had been walking to school could’ve put them at risk. This is why we both chose to do this. Why I decided to be a cop—to keep our neighborhoods safe.

“What an asshat,” he says as he gets back into the car with the driver’s registration, license, and insurance card.

“Didn’t think he did anything wrong, huh?”

He snorts. “He said, and I quote, ‘I have a kid who goes to school here. They started two hours ago. I never slow down when the kids are already in school. What’s the point?’”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Jameson shakes his head as he continues inputting the information into the fancy new computers the precinct put into our cars last year. “You know, sometimes I feel bad when you pull over some sweet little old lady who just wasn’t paying enough attention and didn’t realize. Like, I get it, the kids aren’t present and you don’t think about it. But when I get one like this…”

“Yeah, with drivers like this I’m glad the fine is so steep in a school zone.”

“Agreed. I’ll be right back,” he says after grabbing the ticket that spits out of our little printer.

“Where should we go for lunch?” he asks as soon as he gets back in the car. Laughter churns in my belly before bubbling up and out. I can’t control it, and it gets louder as he throws his hands up. “What?”

“You never change, do you? You have another hour, at least, before you even stop for lunch.”

“I want to have a plan.”

“I know you do,” I say, still chuckling a bit.

“How about Jack’s? You love their subs.”

I shake my head, but agree. I really do like their subs, and they’re not close to my house so I haven't had one since I’ve been out of the hospital.

“Officer Weston!” Jack, Jr. booms as I slowly make my way into the neighborhood pizza shop an hour and a half later. Jack, Sr. is often still around, but he passed the pizzeria down to his son a few years ago. The senior Jack is a smaller unassuming man, but junior is bigger than life. Taller than his father and robust in size and personality.

“Hey, Jack. It’s been a long time.”

He leaves one of his employees—a small, peppy college student—in charge of the counter and walks around to shake my hand. “It’s so good to see you.” Thankfully, Gavin’s made sure I can support myself on my cane no matter which side of my body I’m holding it because the way Jack’s pumping my hand has me a little unstable. Jameson notices and puts a hand discreetly on my lower back to make sure my feet don’t fly out from underneath me.

“It’s good to see you, too. But call me Hendrix.”

“No, sir. I will not. I don’t care if you’re not back on duty or not. You’re one of the finest officers I know and I won’t be showing any disrespect,” he says emphatically.

Before I can find my words and respond, the chipper girl behind the counter says, “We sure were glad to hear when you pulled through, Officer Weston. You really are one of our favorites.”

“Come, come,” Jack says, clasping his big paw on my shoulder. “Let’s get you seated and I’ll have your sub ready in no time.” I allow myself to be steered toward my and Jameson’s normal booth when Jack stops and looks over his shoulder. “What are you doing, Officer Fox?”

Jameson holds up his wallet. “I’m going to pay and then I’ll be right over.”

“Not today,” Jack says. “Today, lunch is my treat.”

Jameson waits until we’re seated and Jack’s walked away before he says, “How are you feeling?”

Sheepishly, I fiddle with the neckline of my shirt. “Overwhelmed, I think.”

He smiles, but doesn’t say anything until Jack drops our drinks off at the table. “How’s business?” he asks him.

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