Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“I watched him have a conniption fit after I told him I knew all of his dirty little secrets, and I didn’t care. Not even a little bit. Oddly enough, we remained friends after the dust settled. Good friends, actually. I guess the point is, when you find someone who makes you care more about them than the work, that’s when you know you’ve found the one. I haven’t found that one yet though. Not sure they exist. Maybe I don’t want them to exist…”
“Yeah, marriages are tested when doin’ this line of work, and it can make us jaded. All the domestic violence calls, fights between couples going through divorces… how could we not feel some sort of way about it all?” He dug in the peanut bowl and shook them in the palm of his hand before funneling them into his mouth. “I’m on my second marriage, and she’s been threatening divorce since forever now.”
“No, no, no… what’s her name? We say names ’round here. Makes these people human, no matter how inhuman we’ve personally become.”
White studied her for a strong minute before speaking, “Sarah. Her name is Sarah.”
“And what’s her biggest complaint about Captain White?” She grinned at him, nice and wide.
“Says I bring the job home. Where else am I supposed to bring it? It’s a part of me.” He pointed at himself. “It’s gotta home, just like the skin on my body, and the eyes in my head.”
“Right. And all of this, Captain White, is why I threw in the towel.”
“The hopeless romantic lives on…” He smirked.
“I don’t want to be alone, but I chose to be for a long time. Nevertheless, I have more control over my life as a P.I., and the cases aren’t so dark. Helps me not bring the shit home that police officers have to unknowingly transport to their family. The pay is better, too. But then Ava Thompson walked through my door, and I am right back at the altar.”
“If it’s such a struggle, why are you doing this then? You could have found her brother, which you did, and said that’s it.” He threw up his hands.
She leaned back in the seat.
“Because I have to. I’m a cop, Captain. It’s still in my heart.
“…And Clark Johnson’s sister needed your help.”
“That’s right. I’m able to merge both of my professions, weave them together, and something… something magical happens. I know I don’t have the authority of a police officer anymore, but working with you gave me a chance at bat again.” He offered a dejected smile. As if mourning her long lost career right along with her. “I am addicted to this, Captain. Can’t sleep, but I’m on fire. Alive and full of vitality! I wake up thinking about this now. I go throughout the day wondering what I missed.” Her heart pounded as she fell into her emotions. “I go to sleep lamenting over it. I eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Wash it down with the truth.
“Ava was just the perfect excuse for me to stretch my wings and dip my toes in the water—definitely no pun intended. Just one more time… one more hit of that ol’ police pipe, and maybe I can quit.” She laughed dismally. “I can’t help it. I’m good at it, and,” she shrugged, “it calls to me.”
“So you don’t want this life I live full time, just have a tryst or two every now and again for ol’ time’s sake?”
She burst out laughing and nodded. “I guess… somethin’ like that, Captain White. I can’t stay but can’t completely walk away.” She polished off her drink, then they shook hands, vowed to keep each other abreast of any new developments, and parted ways…
Porsche sat outside Ethan’s apartment, eating peeled orange slices. This was her third one, and the high acid concentration would certainly upset her stomach if she didn’t slow down on the citrus fruit. She was listening to a podcast about aliens and hating herself for her most recent bout of insomnia. This one caused her to chase ideas and tackle them to the ground.
When she left the bar after meeting up with Captain White, she had every intention of going home, and calling it a night. She showered. Called her mother. Had a small bite to eat and read a few pages from her latest book pick: “The Accidental President: Harry S. Truman and the Four Months That Changed the World,” by A. J. Baime. After she’d grown bored of that and still couldn’t rest, she did a bit of online shopping—in desperate need of a beige purse and new sneakers—then hoped and prayed she’d be able to fall asleep once the clock struck twelve.
Instead, she remained wide awake, sucked into some reality TV show that involved angry men, glaciers, dangerous boating adventures, and deep-sea diving. Now, here she was, parked in the back of an apartment building at 4:00 A.M., with the taste of fruit on her tongue, a tumbler full of hot coffee she’d made herself, and $410 dollars poorer after her impromptu digital shopping spree that she already regretted. ‘Like all things Porsche’, as her mother often said to describe how over the top she could be, she followed her gut. The blood droplets led to Ethan.