Page 1 of Carter
1
Carter
Some moments stick to you like burrs — you can try to shake them off, but they cling.
The day I walked into my girlfriend’s office and found her tangled up with her boss? That one dug in deep.
The coffee in my hand went cold before I could even put it down. I stood there in the doorway, the hum of the copier in the corner filling the silence. Her laugh — the same laugh I used to think was meant for me — was muffled against him. I didn’t take my eyes off of them until I knew that Brenda knew something was wrong. I watched as she raised her head.
“Carter—” she started, eyes wide, lipstick smeared, blouse half-buttoned, pulled up over her breast along with her bra. Everything she had on, or rather off, I paid for, even those fake breasts she begged me to buy her.
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. My hands curled around the cardboard coffee tray like it was the only thing keeping me upright.
The boss had the nerve to smirk, like he’d just won some contest I didn’t even know we were in.
I set the coffee on her desk — hers still in it — and stepped back. My voice came out calm, too calm.
“Guess I don’t need to ask how late you’ll be working. You can pick up your things on the front porch.
I walked away before she could say another word. If I stayed, I’d say things I couldn’t take back — and I’d already lost enough today.
2
Carter
By the time I got home, the snow had started to fall — fat, lazy flakes that muffled everything in sight. My little house outside Boise had never felt so empty. Six months later I hit the road.
I didn’t pack much. Just the essentials: clothes, tools, my sidearm. The rest could rot.
Southern California had been whispering to me for a while now — warmer weather, ocean air, a chance to start fresh where no one knew my name or the story behind it. The Golden Team was based there, and Faron had told me more than once that they could use another set of hands. I wasn’t planning to call in that offer, but… hell, plans change.
I tossed my duffel in the back seat of my truck, the weight of it hitting with a dull thud.
When I closed the door behind me, I didn’t look back.
The road out of Idaho was slick and dark, headlights carving through the snow as the miles peeled away. I didn’t know if I was running toward something or just running away.
Maybe both.
3
Carter
The first breath of Southern California air hit me like a challenge — warm, salted by the Pacific, humming with city noise.
Carlsbad was nothing like Idaho. No snowbanks, no pine trees heavy with frost. Just wide streets lined with palm trees, the ocean stretching endless and blue on the horizon.
Faron was waiting when I pulled into the lot beside the Golden Team’s main building. He looked the same as the last time I saw him — tall, solid, eyes sharp enough to see right through you.
“Long drive,” he said, clapping a hand to my shoulder.
“Worth it,” I answered.
Inside, the place was buzzing — voices over comms, maps spread across a table, Tag leaning over Aponi as she pointed out something on the screen. I caught the faintest nod from Tag when he saw me, but no small talk.
Faron led me to an empty desk. “You’ll get a locker and a gear check. We’ve got a situation brewing — girls going missing. Closer to home this time.”
That same itch I’d felt for years — the need to be in motion, to make a difference — flared hot.
