Three months later
“Seriously, Peter, running isn’t going to solve this.”
Peter, who is more hobbling than running, is trying to disappear down the side of some large buildings. He’s my seventh case since I’ve been back on the job, and as always, proving to be a challenge. I’m glad, though. I’ve missed this. I’ve missed the chase. I’ve missed the adrenaline. I’ve missed feeling strong and determined.
“I’ll shoot you, Peter,” I say, sighing as I pick up my pace to a jog.
Peter rounds the corner and when I skid around after him, he’s disappeared. I take a step and he leaps out from behind a massive bin. He tackles me to the floor and I land with a thump. Dammit, I washed my hair this morning. Now it’s in the freaking mud. I bring my knee up and drive it into whatever I can. Peter rolls off me with a grunt and I flip my body over onto his.
I whip my gun out and press it against his chest. “Now, we can do this the hard way or the easy way.”
“Get off me!” He squirms. “I didn’t do nothin’.”
“Peter,” I sigh, “you skipped bail.”
“Didn’t mean to, it was an accident.”
Well, that’s a new one. “And how exactly do you accidentally skip bail?”
“I didn’t do it, they’re tryin’ to lock me away for no reason.”
I raise my brows. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, didn’t do nothin’. Never even done drugs in my life.”
I snort. One look at him tells me that’s a lie. He’s scrawny, his eyes are bloodshot, he’s got track marks up his arms, and he’s got sunken cheekbones.
“You a fan of giving blood, then?”
He stares at me blankly and I nod to his arms. “Don’t know how those got there.”
I laugh loudly. This is why I love my job. “Up, Peter, I’m taking you in.”
“Didn’t do nothin!” he bellows.
I struggle to get him to his feet, but eventually manage. I cuff his hands behind his back and push him out to the car where Raide is sitting in the front seat, talking on the phone. He often comes along for the ride and waits while I bring them in. I think it’s his secret way of making sure I’m okay, even though he doesn’t interfere.
“Jesus,” he mutters when I throw Peter in the back. “He fuckin’ stinks.”
“Who are you?” Peter cries.
“Shut up, and don’t touch anything.”
I laugh as I jump into the car. We take off and Raide keeps his eye on Peter, whose eyes are frantically darting from side to side.
“You even think about trying to get out, I’ll make sure I run over your legs before I get you back into the car,” Raide snaps.
“Raide,” I say, trying to fight a smile. “Don’t threaten the criminals.”
He snorts. “Criminal, my ass. This guy probably can’t even find his own dick.”
“I can!” Peter cries from the back. “You pig.”
I burst out laughing once more and Raide quickly joins me. We arrive at my work and I quickly discard Peter before joining Raide in the car again. Then we head over to my parents’ house. My dad adores Raide, he thinks he’s the shit and doesn’t hold back on letting Raide know. My mom is warming to him and even my sisters seem to be able to make decent conversation.
“How’s Kady?” Raide asks as we drive.
“She’s good, loving Fiji.”
Kady is on vacation in Fiji with some handsome guy she met a month ago. He’s a Latino hottie and swept her clean off her feet. When he invited her for a trip to Fiji, she jumped at the chance. I told her there’s a high chance he’s a serial killer, but she seemed to think I was the crazy one. She’s having the time of her life, so I guess that means he’s not a serial killer, which is a relief.
“What about the dude?”
I snort. “I can’t even pronounce his name.
He seems to be giving her the time of her life. She certainly hasn’t complained and she also hasn’t been chopped into a thousand tiny pieces, so I’d go as far as saying it’s going fantastically.”
Raide chuckles. “That girl is nuts.”
“Totally nuts.”
We pull up at my parents’ house and I climb out of the car. Raide joins me and we both head inside to have dinner with my parents. We do this once every two weeks and it seems to be helping me develop a stronger relationship with my mom and sisters.
“Gracie!” my dad says, swinging the door open before we even reach it. “How’s it going?”
I smile and embrace him. “Good, Dad.”
“Raide.”
“How’s it goin’?” Raide asks.
“Good. Let me show you the fish I got this afternoon.”
I sigh with another smile as Dad drags Raide through the house and out the back to his man cave. I enter the kitchen, where Gretchen is having a minor meltdown over her hair. She’s got a date tonight—gasp!—and her hair isn’t perfect. Mom is frantically trying to fix it while Stacy is staring with a smirk on her face that tells me she’s secretly enjoying this.
“Hi,” I call, walking in.
Mom looks up at me. “Grace, where have you been?”
She’s not asking because I’m late; she’s asking because my hair is now limp and ugly because Peter pushed me to the floor.
“I’ve been hunting down criminals, Mom. Just the norm.”
“Your hair,” she says gently.
I snort. “Mom, are you really surprised?”
She considers this. “No. Any chance you can help me fix Gretchen’s hair?”
“No!” Gretchen cries, then gives me a sympathetic expression. “Sorry, Grace, but you aren’t touching my hair.”
“Aw,” I say, lifting my hand and wiggling my dirty fingers at her. “Come on, sis.”
Her expression turns disgusted and she cries, “This is so bad.”
I snort-laugh, and Stacy can’t help herself, she joins in.
“At least give me some suggestions, you two!” Mom snaps. “Instead of laughing.”
“Okay,” I say, walking to the sink and washing my hands. “Let’s take a look.”
“Do not put your hands in my hair, Grace!” Gretchen warns.
“Yes, queen.”
She mumbles something and I stand by Mom, staring at my sister’s perfect hair. They’ve tried to put it in an updo, but it looks like a bird’s nest on top.
“Get your hair curler, and curl those ends. It’ll take away that, ah, bird’s nest look.”
“What?” Gretchen squeals. “Mom you said it was fine, just a little off.”
Mom shoots me a look and I give her a sympathetic smile. “It’s really not so bad,” I tell Gretchen. “Stacy, go and get the curling iron.”
Stacy gets up and returns a moment later with her curler. I get to work on Gretchen’s hair, much to her disgust. An hour later I’m done. I step back and smile, I’m impressed. I’ve always been good with tools and equipment. I guess that extends to beauty equipment, too. Her hair now has soft curls at the top instead of a strawy mess.
“Wow,” Mom says. “That actually looks really good.”
“Show me!” Gretchen cries.
Stacy takes a photo with her phone and shows Gretchen. “Well, Grace, you might just have some of our blood in you after all.”
Another smile. Yes, things are definitely better in my world.