by G. , Whitney
Another one bites the dust ...
ALMOND CLOUD “GET ME OUT OF HERE” COOKIES
1 ¾ cups almond paste
2 large egg whites, lightly beaten
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon almond extract
¼ teaspoon salt
confectioners' sugar, for dusting
NATHAN
CEDAR FALLS, COLORADO, was a perfect example of what happened when a group of wealthy idiots decided to build a holiday-themed town. A cross between Park City and Aspen, it was home to a multi-million-dollar tourist industry and the most overbearing holiday traditions I’d ever witnessed.
To the residents, “winter” wasn’t just a season, and a holiday wasn’t just a holiday. It was something that needed to be adored and talked about for hours on end.
In this town, the days between November through March were to be cherished with endless hot cocoa and sweets in front of the overly expensive lodges, shopping sprees for new winter wardrobes that cost thousands of thousands, and calls to my office about utter bullshit.
“Officer Benson, do you think you could be a fill-in judge at my kid’s holiday costume contest tonight? It’s an emergency.” “Officer Benson, what do you think about that new restaurant on the Square? Do you think it’ll still be open next Christmas?” “Hey, Officer Benson, I know you said to stop calling you, if it wasn’t a real emergency, but I just wanted to say it’s good to have someone like you in charge. Would you mind being my guest at my kid’s winter play?”
Christmas was celebrated twice a year—once on actual Christmas day, and again in July. On the days that it wasn’t being celebrated, the front page of the town paper made special room for a “What We’re Looking Forward to Next Christmas” section to ensure that the holiday season was always at the forefront of residents’ minds.
I’d only been here six months, and in my time here I’d realized that the word “crime” took on a whole different meaning than it did in my previous cities of Seattle, Chicago, and New York. At first, the quiet nights were a great change of pace, a much-needed break from the gritty and dangerous offenders I once lost weeks of sleep over. It was also nice not having to deal with overzealous prosecutors and bloodsucking reporters who crossed ethical lines to get their stories.
Yet, after months of silent shifts and sexless nights, I realized that I missed the adrenaline that came with investigating hard cases, the heightened rush of satisfaction that came from catching a criminal in a twisted web of lies.
There was none of that in this town, and the shit was finally starting to get to me.
“A 10-37 on the Main Street Bridge, 10-4,” The rookie I was training spoke into the radio as we coasted in my squad car. “10-4 ... 10-4?”
“They heard you, Officer Harlow,” I said. “You don’t have to keep saying it.”
“Got it.” She cleared her throat. “Is there any reason why you’re not going any faster?”
“A 10-37 is code for a suspicious, parked car. No need to rush.”
“What if the passengers in that suspicious parked car are in the middle of a drug deal?” she asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “Like, what if they’re just sitting there waiting for the other car to arrive and we miss it? I’d hate to miss out on collaring my first criminal.”
I rolled my eyes and pushed the pedal to eighty miles an hour. Snow lashed my windshield as I weaved through the roads, and the rookie clung to her seat with every quick turn.
Once we arrived at the bridge, I slowed and pulled into the emergency lane, right behind a red and black pickup truck.
“See?” she said, pointing as the lights on the inside flickered on and off. “That’s a signal of some sort. They’re waiting for someone to bring them money for the drugs. I saw this on Law & Order: SVU before.”
I gave her a blank stare. “It’s not a drug deal.”
“How do you know for sure?”
Because we live in fucking Cedar Falls. I opened my door and stepped out. “Stay here unless I signal for you.”
“Would you like me to call for backup?”
“You are my backup.”
“Right, right ...” She looked straight ahead—slightly trembling, and right then and there, I knew that this was the only town in which she’d ever qualify to be a cop.
I shut my door and moved closer to the truck. The back window was foggy and handprints were smeared across its bottom.
As I approached the driver’s side window, the truck began to rock back and forth. The sound of soft moaning came from the inside. Then harsh, low grunts that sounded more pig-like than human-like.
“You’re my fucking animal,” a deep voice said. “Act like you’re my animal, babe.”
“Ahhh ...” the female replied. “Oink! Oink! Oink!”
“That’s it ...” he whispered. “Keep oinking me as I fill your pussy with this big bacon stick.”
Jesus Christ.
I tapped the driver’s side window, hard as hell so I wouldn’t have to hear any more of this.
No use.
The car rocked harder. The “bacon stick” was served with another round of questionable sounds. A hand smacked and smeared the steamed window.
“Fuck ...” The guy said. “Can’t wait until I press my balls against your snout.”
I knocked on the window hard enough to damn near break the glass, and the truck finally stopped shaking.
“I need the driver to roll down the window,” I commanded.
“Oh, shit!” The female said. “I think it’s a cop!”
“Damn ... Well, if we sit here and don’t make any noise for a while, I’m sure he’ll go away.”
I shook my head. “Roll the window down now.”
There were a few seconds of shuffling and “Oh my god” mumbles, and then the window rolled down at a snail’s pace, revealing what looked like two college students. Two bare-ass naked college students.
“Um. He-he-hello.” The guy stuttered. “How are you doing tonight, Officer?”
“License and registration, please.”
“Are we in trouble, sir? I can explain.”
“License and registration, please.” I repeated, shining my flashlight into the car. “And put on your goddamn pants.”
Red-faced, he leaned over the seat and opened the glovebox. He pulled out a small folder and handed it to me. “Just so you know, I don’t normally do things like this.”
“I need you to put on your pants before you start talking to me.” I looked at him. “Do it now.”
He swallowed and struggled to pull his jeans over his legs. The woman across the seat pulled a large sweatshirt over her chest, her cheeks turning redder with each second that passed.
I looked over his license and paperwork, declining to run the information through the system in my squad car.
“Mr. Morin, your license says your home address is 758 Red Fern Lane,” I said. “Is that up to date?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That means your house is literally up the street.” I looked at him. “Did your truck run out of gas?”
“No, I just proposed over dinner.” He smiled. “She said yes.”
“I can literally see your house from right here.” I pointed to it. “Why couldn’t you just drive all the way home?”
“We wanted to have sex on the bridge ...” his girlfriend said softly. “It’s in direct view of the pig farm, so we thought it would enhance our sex.”
I said nothing, unsure of how to respond to that. I debated whether or not I should give them a ticket, whether this was worthy of paperwork or not.
“I’m going to let you off with a warning tonight,” I said, “But if I happen to pull either of you over within the next six months for something as insignificant as going one mile over the speed limit, I’ll be sure that you sit in jail for an entire weekend. You got that?”
“Yes, sir,” they said in unison.
“Good.” I stepped back. “Get out of here.”
&n
bsp; He started rolling up the window, but then he paused and rolled it back down.
“I have a quick question, Officer.” He tapped his chin. “Does your warning mean we can pick up where we left off right now, and the next time I sit in jail, or do I need to drive off at this moment?”
“You’ve got thirty seconds to drive the hell out of my sight or I’m arresting both of you.”
He climbed over the seat and fastened his seatbelt, cranking the engine and pulling onto the main lane.
I watched as he drove for all of thirty seconds and pulled into a driveway up the street.
I returned to the car and took a long sip of my coffee, wondering just how long it would take to forget every “oink” I’d heard.
“Wow.” Officer Harlow handed me a donut. “Two intense calls back to back in one night. This is kind of like being in those big cities for you again, huh?”
“Cedar Falls is nothing like any of those cities.”
“Because it’s ten times better, right?”
I didn’t answer that. “Let’s go over some things for your final test next month.”
I cranked the engine and pulled onto the street. Before I could ask her to tell me the proper protocol for discharging a weapon—a rule I was certain she’d never use in this town, a call came in from dispatch.
“Officer Benson?” a light voice said. “Are you finished with that distress call on Seventh Avenue?”
“You all have no idea what ‘distress call’ means ...”
“What was that, sir?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’m done with the distress call.”
“Good. We have a 10-5 at 71 Maple Avenue. Three years old, male.”
“A 10-5, 10-4.” Officer Harlow shot me a look. “A missing child ...”
“We’re prepping an Amber alert,” the voice said. “Other officers are in route.”
I sped toward downtown, weaving though lines of tourists’ cars. When I finally arrived at the scene, the sirens of other squad cars were blaring, and a few of my fellow officers were surrounding a crying woman in a pink bathrobe.
Her hair was frazzled, and she was pacing the sidewalk.
“Ma’am,” I said, pulling out my notepad. “I understand how difficult this is for you, but I need to ask you a few questions. Okay?”
She nodded, tears falling down her face.
“When did you last see your child?” I said. “Can you tell us what he was wearing?”
“I have pictures,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket. She held it up to me, showing me pictures of a grey and white Siberian husky.
What the fuck? “You told dispatch that your dog was a missing child?”
“He is my child!” Her eyes went wide. “He’s been gone two hours and I’m sure he hasn’t eaten!”
“Ma’am ...” I was seconds away from losing my shit. “This is exactly why we have a separate, highly-qualified pet rescue team. I do understand what it’s like to lose a pet, but telling dispatch that—”
“He’s not a pet! He’s not a fucking pet!” Her eyes nearly bulged out of her skull. “He’s family!”
Okay, to hell with it. “Do you have any idea how many expensive resources we’re wasting right now?” I pointed up at the helicopter that was now roaming above the town. “Any idea how many unnecessary officers are about to punch the clock for this?”
“None!” She screamed. “You’re not wasting anything, and I need all the help I can get.”
“I agree with that latter statement one hundred percent.”
“Well, then.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “If that’s how you feel, I would like for you to stop talking to me, if you’re not serious about helping me find my baby.”
I shut my notepad and stepped back. “I’m done for the day, ladies and gentlemen. Officer Harlow, ride back to the station with one of your associates.”
“Wait.” She called after me. “You don’t want to help us find the dog?”
“No, I want to find my relocation request papers ...”
“DOUBLE THE TROUBLE” VANILLA CUPCAKES
1 1/2 sticks unsalted butter
1 ½ cups sugar
1 ¼ cups milk
¼ teaspoon salt
2 eggs
2 ½ teaspoons baking powder
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 ½ cups flour
NATHAN
DAYS AFTER I ENDED my latest shift, and hours after being forced to sign off on a new “Cedar Falls’ Pets are Part of Our Family” policy, I stared at an updated relocation form. No matter how many times I filled it out, there were two questions that prevented me from turning it in.
1. Have you ever been seriously injured during your career in law enforcement? (Please provide details)
2. Did you finish completing the required psychological evaluations (past the mandatory minimum)?
My answers were, 1. Yes, twice. Shot in my chest during an armed robbery the first time. Shot again six months later in my stomach during a “payback” ambush. 2. Hell no.
I knew those answers all but guaranteed an extended stay in Cedar Falls, and deep down, a part of me actually believed that was for the best. A very small, insignificant part.
“So, are you planning to say anything to me?” The brunette sitting across from me blushed, knocking me out of my thoughts. Her intrusion reminded me that we were sitting in the middle of a restaurant, courtesy of a blind date.
“I mean, I’m totally fine staring at you for the rest of tonight, since you’re sexy as hell,” she said, blushing. “But there must be something on your mind, something the two of us can talk about?”
She twirled her tongue around a thick milk-shake straw a few times and winked. “Anything?”
Hmmm ...
I smiled and looked at my watch. 9:08.
Like usual, my phone buzzed in my pocket and I pretended to answer it, saying the same fake lines I’d said on these dates ever so often.
“Well, can you make it quick?” I always struggled to keep a straight face as I spoke. “I told you I had a date with someone really special tonight and I’ve already spent the first part of my date wondering if you’d call me with these details.”
The woman swooned over this staged performance—as usual, and then I ended the call.
“Give me a few minutes,” I said, standing to my feet. “I need to step outside to finalize this call, but I guarantee when I get back that I’ll be a lot more talkative.”
“I hope so.” She lowered her voice. “After we get acquainted, I’d love to show you my favorite way to use my mouth.”
I stared at her, contemplated whether I wanted to stay put or not, but this date wasn’t mine. It belonged to someone else.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, leaving the table and heading for the side exit. I walked to the alley, and there, as usual, was my twin brother, Tristan.
“So?” he asked. “What’s the assessment?”
“Brunette with green eyes, curves in all the right places, and wants to show you a few things she can do with her mouth.”
“She sounds absolutely perfect.” He smiled. “Thanks for vetting another one for me.”
“You could always vet them yourself and cut the date short if you’re not attracted to them.”
“I could, but then you wouldn’t have a social life. I do this for you.”
“Right ...” I rolled my eyes as we switched coats. “You know that you won’t be able to get away with this for too much longer, right?”
“Why not?”
“Two reasons. One, I’m finally going to be introduced as the new deputy via the town paper in a few weeks. In my interview, I specifically say that I have a twin brother who lives here. Two, this is my last time doing this shit for you.” My brother was the only reason I’d taken a job in this town in the first place, and he was the only one of us who was happy about it.
“Fair enough.” He laughed. “How was your shift today?”
“Thrilli
ng. I have no idea how I’ll ever get a good night’s sleep here. I mean, between all the nothingness that goes on, I’m pretty exhausted.”
“So, you’d prefer getting shot?”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“That’s what it sounds like.” He motioned for me to swap watches with him. “I know why you’re not enjoying this place as much as the other cities. When’s the last time you got laid? Six years ago?”
“Six months ago.”
“Same thing.” He shook his head. “A couple rounds of random sex with a stranger is all it’ll take for you to see that Cedar Falls is actually the best place to be, and then you’ll appreciate your easy workload. There are so many new tourists from week to week, that it’s practically a buffet of easy lays. You know what else?”
I leaned against the wall and tuned out his words. Sometimes I had to remind myself that I was only twenty seconds older than him and not twenty years. In my previous cities, I’d been just as reckless as he was, jumping from one night stand to one night stand, focused on only sex and work. And although that was still appealing as hell, most of the women I’d met in this town so far were taken. I also didn’t think they’d take too kindly to their new deputy fucking his way through as many women as possible.
I think I may need something different this time around ...
“Are you listening to me, Nathan?” Tristan said.
“Not at all.”
“Here.” He laughed as he handed me a business card. “Go there tomorrow and tell them you’re interested in trying their blind dating services.”
I flipped the card over and blinked in confusion.
The Blind Eye Dating Service
Personalized & Serious Matches Guaranteed!
“DON’T WORRY,” HE SAID. “Most of the women I’ve met don’t really want anything serious, especially since I made sure to answer all of those annoying survey questions honestly. Ninety five percent of the time, we talk for a few minutes over a drink or two, have sex, and go our separate ways.”