Page 1 of Dad's Cop Buddy

1

THIS IS YOUR DAUGHTER?

KENT

“This is Kendrickson,” I answer the phone as I swallow a sip of my beer.

“Kent, this is Tom. I’m sorry to bother you at home like this but I didn’t think it could wait until morning.”

It’s my old college buddy Tom Lawson. We’ve been talking about getting together since I came back to Merryville, but I’m still getting used to the day-to-day grind of being the Chief of Police. Most of my nights have been spent in front of the tube with a six-pack until I pass out.

“Hey Tom, it’s alright. What seems to be the problem?”

“It’s my daughter, Kendal. You remember her right?”

“Vaguely,” I tell him, but in all honesty, I don’t recall ever meeting her.

“Well, she’s been getting some unwanted attention from a man at school. She can give you all the details when you talk to her, but it looks like he’s followed her home. There’s graffiti on the wall of the house, and she’s a nervous wreck. Do you think you can come by and talk to her about it?”

My first instinct is to tell him to follow standard protocol. He should be calling the station so they can send a patrol over to take a report, but he is an old friend and that means something.

“Alright, Tom. Is it your house?” I ask him.

“No, she moved out of them dorms into my father’s old hunting cabin. You remember where that is?”

This seems a little odd to me. If your child moved home from college, why wouldn’t she move back into her room at your house?

“Yeah, I know it. Are you there now?” I ask.

“Yes, and, like I said, Kendal’s a nervous wreck.”

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

I fix my shirt and kick my shoes on before heading into the bathroom to brush away the smell of alcohol on my breath. Sure that this is just the case of some high test jock who can’t take no for an answer, I figure I’ll just get his information and send some officers to his place to scare the shit out of him. It should be an easy one and done that makes Tom and his kid feel better.

The drive to the cabin takes about thirty minutes and half of that time is spent on a dark, dirt road surrounded by forest. Why any young girl would want to drive this alone at night is a real brain teaser. Just being in this environment would be enough to make a girl's imagination run wild. I bet she’s always seeing monsters in the shadows, and who could blame her?

Most of the cabins are empty this time of year, but I see cars in one driveway and figure it must be my destination. I was just a kid the last time I was out here, but it slowly starts coming back to me. As teenagers, we used to sneak out here to have parties when Tom’s father and his friends weren’t out here hunting.

I pull into the driveway and find Tom waiting in front of the cabin. My headlights illuminate the wall behind him where, in red spray paint on the white wall, someone has tagged the house. The big, red letters spell out the ominous message, “You’re Mine”.

“Kent, thank you so much for coming. Do you see this? This guy is clearly out of his mind.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it, Tom. Where’s your daughter?”

“She’s inside. As I said, she’s really shaken up by this.”

We enter the cabin, and she comes out of the bathroom.

My steps slam to a halt. It feels like the floor rushes up to meet me as my heart kicks hard at the sight of this beautiful, beautiful girl. Her eyes are puffy from crying and her cheeks are red, but still, in spite of all that, she’s gorgeous.

One look causes my pulse to pound and the inseam of my pants to grow tighter. She’s caught me so off guard that I almost forget what I’m doing here. Then she opens her sweet mouth and asks, “Did you see what he painted on the wall?”

Her soft blonde curls frame her angelic face perfectly, but that body is the real kicker. She should be center stage on a movie screen not held up in this cabin in the woods.

God, what is she? Nineteen, twenty? I know that her age alone should be enough to stop these wild thoughts from crossing my mind, but I don’t care. There’s something about her that makes my motor run in high gear. Back to reality. She asked me a question. What did she ask me? I must look like a bumbling idiot standing here in a daze. Oh yeah. The wall. She asked if I saw the wall.

“You’re mine”? Some shithead has the audacity to claim ownership of this girl? No, not this girl. I’ve known her for less than five minutes, and I already know that I would kill for her. She’s yours? No, dickhead, she’s mine.

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