Page 55 of Man Cuffed
He flips a switch on the dash, and immediately I see the reflection of the cruiser lights on the shiny hood of the car.
“Oh! Can we use the siren? I know there aren’t that many cars on the road...” That’s putting it mildly. There are two other cars in view at the moment, and both of them have pulled over to let us pass. “But it would mean the world to me. I’ll give you an extra moanie later.”
He sighs and then points at another switch. “Go ahead, you drama queen.”
I am, in fact, a drama queen. So I flip that switch before he changes his mind. And the siren starts up right away. It’s glorious. Mac steps on the gas again, and the cruiser leaps forward. We fly for another quarter mile, until Mac turns left onto a residential street. He also kills the siren, but it was good while it lasted.
We make two more turns and pull up in front of a small house with a brightly lit bay window. I roll down my window immediately so I don’t miss anything.
“Stay put,” he says, getting out. A man steps out of the shadows and I open my mouth to scream.
But I can tell from Mac’s body language that he already knew the man was there. And anyway, it’s just an elderly man in a University of Michigan sweatshirt, and he’s waving Mac down as if the cavalry has arrived. “He’s still in there! I tried to look in the window but the drapes are closed.”
“Okay, sir,” Mac says calmly. “This is your home?”
“My son’s. I’m dog-sitting for the weekend.” He holds up a key.
“And where’s the dog?” Maguire asks.
“Ooh, good question,” I whisper to myself.
But that’s when a furry dog emerges from the shrubberies, his tail waving happily. So Fido is unscathed.
“Start from the beginning,” Mac says. “Did you see someone in the home?”
“I was nappin’ in the chair.” The old man points inside. I note that the Michigander accent is strong in this one. “When I woke up, the first thing I heard was a loud bump in the master bedroom. And the dog barked.”
The hair on my arms stands up. This sounds serious. A little scary.
I freaking love it.
“I called out hello, you know? But nobody answered. That bumping kept happening, though. So I called 911 and then went outside, like they told me to do.”
“You’re sure you’re home alone?” Mac asks.
“Of course I’m sure.” He looks indignant. “My son took his lady to the lake for the weekend.”
Another cruiser pulls up behind ours, and Lance and the rookie climb out. Maguire waves them over.
“No fair,” I call out of the window. “Why does the trainee get to help and not me?”
Maguire doesn’t even dignify this with an answer. The three of them spread out around the house, poking into the shadows and looking for a point of entry.
They’re back in seconds, though. And when Mac and Lance enter the house to search it, the trainee gets stuck outside with the old man, holding the dog.
But as I watch Maguire ease into that house, his gaze scanning for trouble, his body moving like a cat’s, I feel tension in my belly. Mac’s the guy you summon when you hear a bump in the night. He pulls up, guns blazing (metaphorically, anyway), and does the scary thing you’re not willing to do yourself.
Seriously. Is there anything hotter than that? No sir.
My hands are clenched with nerves as I watch the house, waiting to see what will happen.
Lucky for my poor heart, the wait isn’t long. Mac appears in the doorway and beckons to the old man. I unclench every muscle in my body and sort of ooze back against the seat with relief. He wouldn’t do that if there were any danger.
But as soon as my heart rate drops into the normal range, I get curious. So I open the car door and gallop across the lawn to see what they learned.
And I only have to get as far as the front porch, anyway. I can see Lance in the living room. His face is red, and he has all the signs of a man who is trying not to burst out laughing. Red face. Flashing eyes. Shaking shoulders.
He’s holding a Roomba. You know—a robot vacuum.
