Shift almost over, Ginny took one last pass by the gazebo side of the park, her headlights joining the park’s illumination in cutting through the darkness. No movements caught her eye and, as she rounded the last corner, she looked at her clock. Shift over. Grinning, she headed back to the station. Parking the SUV, she jumped in her car and backed out of the lot.

She knew Brogan had wanted to go running on the beach the next morning and she had planned on joining him, but her running shoes were at her house. Knowing it would only take five minutes, she decided to make the detour to pick them up.

Parking on the street in front of her house, she hurried up the walk to her front door, thinking maybe Brogan would not mind if she started keeping a few things at his place…and he can keep some of his things here.

* * *

Brogan leaned deep into his sofa, the game just going off. Thinking of Ginny coming over soon, nerves hit his gut. Tonight, he would ask about her moving in…or at least agreeing to share houses until they could figure something out. All he knew was, he wanted to fall asleep with her by his side every night, regardless which bed it was in.

Suddenly looking around at how dark it was, he realized the game had gone longer than intended and she would be there soon. His dinner dishes were washed, but still in the sink. His beer bottle sat on the coffee table, a condensation ring at its base. Snagging the bottle, he stalked into the kitchen, tossing it into the recycle bin before placing the dishes back into the cupboard. Grabbing a paper towel, he wiped the counter and then the coffee table. Walking into the bathroom, he pulled clean towels from the small closet in the corner and hung them on the towel bar. Moving to his bedroom, he checked to make sure his work clothes had been tossed into the hamper.

Nodding, he was satisfied it was as good as it would get, but kicked himself that he had not thought to buy flowers. Rubbing his hand over his face, he walked back into the living room, his nerves still working their way through his stomach. Glancing at the clock once more, he knew she would walk through the door any moment. Please let her say yes.

* * *

Smiling at the thought of seeing Brogan soon, Ginny entered the living room, flipping on the light switch, surprised she had not left it on when she went to work. Hurrying to the bathroom, she quickly used the facilities and decided, since she was home, she might as well change out of her police uniform and into something more comfortable.

Standing at the bathroom vanity, she pulled out her phone. Hearing Brogan’s deep voice again, she smiled. “Hey, honey. Sorry I’m late, but I’m at my house to grab some things. I wanted my running shoes for tomorrow and, since I’m here, I’m going to get out of my uniform and put on something comfortable.”

“I’m sitting on the porch waiting to see your headlights, babe. Make it soon,” Brogan said. “We’ve both got tomorrow off and I’m itching to get our time together started.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” she said, moving into her bedroom, her hands at her belt buckle as she held the phone between her ear and shoulder. Flipping on the light, she jerked as she saw her bed linens mussed just before seeing someone crawling out her open window.

Screaming into the phone, “Intruder! I’ve got an intruder!” she disconnected with Brogan, immediately drawing her weapon and pressing the radio at her shoulder, calling it in to the emergency dispatch.

“Officer Spencer reporting an intruder in her home. Just left premises. In pursuit.”

Running to her window, she looked out, seeing the fleeing subject, and crawled out the same window, dropping lightly to the ground. Shouting, “Halt. Police!” had no effect, so she began running after the intruder, continuing to shout her progress into her radio.

* * *

Brogan’s heart stopped at her words, his feet rooted to the wooden porch. Intruder? At her house? Two seconds later it hit him and he bolted back inside, grabbing his keys from the counter before racing toward his truck. Hitting redial, her phone went to voice message.

“Fuck!” he yelled, climbing inside his cab and starting the engine. Gunning out of his sandy drive, the back fishtailed as he dialed Mitch.

Mitch answered with, “I know. I got the call. I’m on my way.”

“I’m heading there too.”

“Bro, don’t get in the way of police business.”

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me,” he growled. “I’ll be there.” Disconnecting, he called Aiden, not giving his brother a chance to speak before yelling, “Get to Ginny’s house. She had an intruder.” Disconnecting again, his heart pounded as he stomped on the accelerator, churning up the road to town. Only a ten-minute drive, he nonetheless hated every second while shaving the time in half, wondering what he would find when he got there. Please, God, let her be all right.

Pulling up in front of her house, he saw Sam, wearing jeans with a BPD t-shirt, talking to Aiden. Knowing Sam and his wife lived down the street from Ginny, he was not surprised to see him there. Jumping out of the truck, he ran to them. “Where is she?”

Sam looked at him, listening to his radio, then said, “Mitch is in pursuit. Grant and Burt are on their way. I’m here at her house to keep anyone from entering if we need to collect evidence.”

“Bro,” Aiden said, his hands up toward his brother, but got no further.

“Where is she?” Brogan roared.

Just then, the trio heard Sam’s radio squawk Ginny’s voice. “Mitch, I’ve pursued the suspect to the corner of Fig and Washington. Request backup immediately.”

Mitch was heard responding, “On my way.” He also radioed Grant and Burt, both responding they were heading in that direction.

Without a word, Brogan took off running, recognizing the address as only being two blocks away. He knew these streets and every piece of property, even in the dark night, having run them with the other Baytown Boys as a child. Hearing footsteps running behind him, he did not have to turn to know Aiden was right with him.

* * *

Ginny pinned her eyes on the figure she was chasing. Male. Good runner. Dark clothing with a dark hat. Calling these descriptors in as she ran, she hoped the North Hampton County dispatcher was able to understand her.

Her intruder led her on a chase through several streets, weaving in and out of yards and alleys. She pressed on, determined not to lose him. Where are the others? Just as she was wondering if she were all alone, she heard Mitch’s voice come over her radio, announcing his location. Radioing her location back, she calculated he was close by.

Just then, she rounded the corner of a house still in close pursuit of the intruder, only to see him easily scale a wooden, privacy fence. Smiling, she knew she could do the same after years of military training. She ran full force, giving a hop at the bottom to gain height, then grabbed the top with her hands as one foot hit the fence to propel herself upward. Swinging her leg over, she pulled her body over the top and landed softly on both feet on the other side.

She stilled momentarily, listening, not hearing footsteps. Slowing her breathing, she walked slowly forward, her eyes discerning shapes in the backyard of the residence, the dim porch light offering little illumination.

With a quick glance toward the house, she noted all the lights were out, but did not know if the owners were home sleeping, or gone. A creak from squeaky hinges sounded out and she slipped around the back corner, giving her eyes a chance to adjust to the space. The yard was not large, but held a shed in the back corner, the type usually for holding tools and, perhaps, a lawn mower.

Calling out, “Baytown Police. Come out with your hands where I can see them,” she waited. “Backup is on its way. Come out with your hands in the air.”

The door to the shed slowly opened outward, the inside dark, shielding whoever was inside. Hearing Mitch on the other side of the fence, Ginny was about to call out again, when the lights to the house came on, temporarily blinding her.

“What’s going on?” a male voice boomed out as a man threw open his back door, stepping out onto his porch, tying his robe around his waist. “Who’s out here?”

“Sir, Baytown Police. Get back inside!” she shouted, just as she saw the dark figure dart out of the shed and around to the back corner of the yard.

“What the hell? I’m calling the police!” the homeowner continued to yell.

“Sir, I am the police. Get back inside!” she screamed again, racing through the backyard toward the corner, seeing the intruder jumping to scale the fence.

Mitch jumped the fence and rounded the back in time to see the homeowner pull out a shotgun as he continued to yell for the police. Rushing to the porch, he subdued the elderly man, pushing him back inside with orders to stay.

Brogan, right on Mitch’s heels, jumped the fence as well, taking a few steps before hearing Aiden land heavily behind him.

Grant and Burt rounded the alley that ran behind the yard, pushing trash cans out of the way as they neared the property, calling out their location as well.

Ginny made it to the man, his feet scrambling for purchase as his hands pulled from the top of the fence, in an effort to make his way over. She tugged on his ankle and, as his body came down, he managed to backhand her, causing her grip to slip and she stumbled backward.

“You can’t get away!” she shouted, righting her body before rigidly locking as she saw a gun in his hand.

“Keep ‘em back,” he ordered.

She was unable to see his face in the dark, with both of them behind the shed where no illumination pierced his features other than the slight glistening on the barrel of the weapon in his hand.

“He’s armed,” Ginny announced loudly, hearing the footsteps around her come to a halt.

Mitch cursed softly, turning back to warn the homeowner to move deep inside his house, thankful when the older man followed his instructions. Weapon drawn, Mitch stealthily walked down the deck stairs to the back yard, joined by Brogan and Aiden. He stared at them for a moment, his gaze hard, but knew they would not be persuaded to leave. His eyes dropped to the Brogan’s hands clinched into fists.

Brogan looked at his friend, not caring that he was now the Police Chief, seeing him ready to take out Ginny’s threat.

“Ginny,” Mitch called out.

Ginny looked into the darkness, ready to speak into her radio, when the gun came slightly closer to her, and this was because the intruder stepped forward just enough for her to see his face.

Ben. Ben? Oh, my God, Ben Hudgins. Saul’s grandson.