Page 12 of Serve and Protect
“Not much,” Darlene says. “There was a minor fender bender out on the highway at Phelps Rd., someone shoplifted at the hardware store, and someone broke into Mrs. Stauffer’s garage and stole her brand-new e-bike. That last one, it turned out to be her grandson hadborrowedthe e-bike to take it for a joyride. She dropped the charges. Oh, and Jace burned the microwave popcorn this morning, so now the break room stinks to high heaven. Other than that, it’s been a quiet day so far.”
“I didn’t burn it,” Jace says as he walks out of the break room. “Don’t listen to her, Chris. She ate more than half the bag, so that tells you something.”
Jason Carver is my newest deputy, hired just three months ago after finishing the police academy at a small college in Denver. He’s technically still on probation, but I’d say he’s a keeper. He learns fast, and he’s a hard worker. He’s also a good team player, which is important when it comes to law enforcement. We need to be able to count on each other in times of crisis.
“The break room still stinks,” Darlene mutters as she picks up a ringing telephone. “Sheriff’s office. How may I direct your call?” She glances up at me as she listens to whoever’s on the line. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll tell him.” As she hangs up the phone, she says, “That was Mrs. McPherson. She said her neighbor’s goats are out again, and they’re in her front yard trampling her flower garden. She wants you to call in a SWAT team.”
“I’m pretty sure the Larimer Country Regional SWAT Team has more important things to do than come wrangle goats here in Bryce.”
“That’s life in a small town,” Jace says with a grin. “I never once saw a runaway goat in downtown Denver.” He thinks he’s so smart, having come from the big city. He said he wanted to experience life in a small town. Well, that’s exactly what he’s getting.
I sigh as I shove my hat back on my head. “Come on, Jace. Let’s go round up some wayward goats. Grab a few ropes from the supply closet, will ya?”
“How many?”
“Just bring ‘em all.”
I laugh when I hear his dumbfounded question. “We keep ropes in the supply closet?”
After Jace and I round up six escaped goats and return them to their rightful owner, Mrs. McPherson gives us a tin filled with her famous homemade chocolate chip cookies as a thank-you. We take them back to the station and set the container onDarlene’s desk. The cookies are gone within an hour. Between us, three more deputies, housekeeping, and the evidence locker technician, the cookies didn’t stand a chance.
I head back out in the afternoon to do my rounds, patrolling around Bryce and the surrounding areas. I bring Jace with me. It’s all part of his training, teaching him the area and the folks who live here. Policing is as much about building relationships in the community as it is about chasing criminals.
A call comes in on my radio. It’s Darlene letting me know some kid is doing donuts in the United Methodist church parking lot again. I head over there just in time to see Stevie Henderson burning up the rubber with his mom’s twenty-year-old Honda Civic. The kid’s only had his license for six months, and he’s nearly lost it several times already.
Stevie stops on a dime when I pull into the church parking lot with my lights flashing and siren on. I park my SUV, and Jace and I walk over to Stevie’s driver’s door.
Stevie rolls down his window. “Hello, Sheriff, Deputy.”
I sigh. “Stevie, did your mother say you could do donuts with her car?”
“No, sir.”
“Where is your mother?”
“She’s at home, sir. Sleeping one off. She had a late night.”
I know exactly where Stevie and his mama live. They reside in the same run-down trailer park I grew up in. In fact, their trailer is two doors down from the one I spent the first eighteen years of my life in—up until the day I left for Phoenix. Stevie’s mom is an alcoholic, just like mine was. She’s also known for bringing strange men home for the night. Just like mine did.
At least Stevie knows who his father is. That’s more than I can say.
“We got a complaint at the station,” I explain. “Can you find someplace else to do this? Preferably where no one can hear you—or smell the burning rubber?”
“I could go out on Mitchell Road, to the old abandoned paper mill. I doubt I’d bother anyone out there.”
“Thank you. Just be careful, will you? And don’t talk to strangers.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Jace and I walk back to my SUV and climb in.
“You’re just giving him a warning?” Jace asks. “Isn’t this the third time we’ve been called out here for the same thing?”
“Yeah. Stevie’s a good kid, and I’d rather have him doing donuts in a parking lot than doing drugs.”
“True.”
I pull out of the parking lot and head back toward town.
