It was a connection forged and hardened by constant stress.
But I’d never felt so alive.
We burst through the door at the top of the stairs right into a grisly scene.
There was a young man tied to a bed, passed out. Standing next to him was a haggard-looking woman with a halo of frizzy hair.
Her gaze snapped up to meet mine, and I saw the same brown eyes as the kid downstairs. She must have been his mother.
Claire made a noise behind me as the fourth skinhead appeared from the shadows.
She neutralized him in an instant, pressed him facedown on the bed, and snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists.
The woman was looking at me with cold, focused eyes. She raised her arm, and I saw there was a chef’s knife in her hand. The beautiful, heavy kind. A Wusthof.
I raised my weapon. “Put the knife down,” I said, low and calm.
She flew at me.
I hesitated. And oh, how that hesitation cost me.
Like a flying monkey, she collided with me and flailed.
I felt a cold bite on the side of my neck where the blade of the knife kissed my flesh. I didn’t feel any pain yet, though, so the cut couldn’t have been too bad.
Claire appeared next to me and tackled the crazy woman off of me.
She had the woman pinned on the bed, her knees pressing on the woman’s wrists. Even still, Claire had to pry the knife from her hand.
I leaned over the bed to check on the guy tied down — now that I got a closer look at him, horror unfurled within me as I recognized a striking resemblance to Luke.
The guy was blonde, had a slight form, and big puffy lips like two rose petals pressed together.
“What’s the status on him?” Claire asked loudly over the woman’s screams.
“Drugged,” I said, prying one of the dude’s eyes open.
“Another one?” Claire asked.
“I guess so,” I said, gnashing my teeth together.
This man was the third our squad had found in a month.
Later, me and Claire were leaning against the fence next to the house, backup and EMTs whirling around. Backup rounded up the Russians and took them into custody. Other members of our squad were sweeping the property, and our detective was inside looking for evidence.
“There you go, this shouldn’t be too bad,” the EMT working on me said.
He’d already numbed the area on my neck and finished giving me my two stitches. The acrid smell of rubbing alcohol drifted up to my nostrils as the numb tugging sensation stopped.
“Band-aid?” the EMT asked.
“Sure,” I said. Then I thought of Luke — he would worry about this cut. “How bad is it?”
“Not bad,” the EMT said, examining it.
But his smile didn’t reach his eyes.
I felt a gentle pressing sensation as the EMT pressed the bandage to the side of my neck.
“There. All fixed up, ready to rock ’n roll.”
“Thank you,” I said.
The EMT wandered back to the ambulance, leaving Claire and me alone.
We were quiet for a few seconds, and I was surprised to find that I didn’t like the absence of her chatter.
“Do you think that kid’s going to be okay?” I asked.
“You mean that gremlin in the house? Yeah, probably, CPS is taking him in.”
“No, I meant the guy on the bed.”
I couldn’t stop picturing that guy as Luke, tied up and helpless.
She blinked a few times. “Yeah, he’s alive. But we’ll know more once the detective starts asking him questions.”
Sometimes I wished I was a detective. Then I’d at least get the satisfaction of knowing what happened after something like this. When you were just a foot soldier, you never got to find out.
That was the part I liked least about my job — the not knowing.
“This is the third one we’ve found,” I said ominously.
Claire nodded slowly. I had the curious sensation that she could see where my mind was going. “He seems to have a type, doesn’t he?”
All of this serial killer’s victims were blonde guys around Luke’s age. All of them had similar builds; all of them had nearly identical faces.
All of them looked like Luke.
“We’ll catch him,” Claire encouraged. “We always do.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said gruffly as we got back in the cop car. Finally, I dug my hand into the bag and pulled out my Boston Cream donut.
When I took a bite, I felt the sweet custard explode in my mouth. It tasted like happiness. It tasted like heaven.
It was a momentary distraction from the fear quivering inside my body. I had to put on a brave face and look like none of this was getting to me. Inside I was terrified.
How long until I stormed a room and Luke was the one tied on the bed — and not in a good way? Was it safe for him to be walking around outside?
I finished my donut, and Claire handed me a fresh coffee. The warm cup heated my cold hands.
“Thank you, Claire,” I said, gratitude dripping on my voice.
I was really starting to like her. Maybe this partner would be a good fit after all.
“No problem, Big Guy,” she said with a wink.
“You were on top of your shit in there.”
“Of course I was. Why do you think I finished first in the academy?”
“People underestimate you,” I admitted, coming to terms with how I’d underestimated her for weeks.
She stretched out in the driver’s seat. “You know what they say… play to your strengths.”
I smiled as I took a sip of the coffee. The bitter dark roast swirled in my mouth, bringing life to my exhausted post-adrenaline body.
“Alright, let’s see what the damage is,” I said, flipping the visor down so I could peer in the mirror. “Oh, fuck.”
Along my neck was a wide bandage — one of the white cloth-looking ones with tape. Cotton balls were stuffed underneath to absorb the blood.
“Yeah…” Claire said softly. “That
