Page 103 of Worth the Fall

EMERSON

“Do you ever not have that thing on?”

“What? The scanner?” he asks as he turns onto the highway.

“Yes.”

He shrugs. “Does it bug you?”

“Not really. I just don’t understand why you still listen to calls if you’re off duty.” I rub my feet together, and more sand from the playground comes off the soles of my shoes and dusts the floor mat.

“I have a few situations I like to keep an eye on. If a call goes out on one of those, sometimes I like to go so I can make sure what’s going on.”

“Hm.”

“Hm?”

“Sounds to me like someone is attached to⁠—”

“Possible 10-16. 12662 Serenity Court. Officers responding.” The scanner interrupts.

“Son of a bitch,” Grant says as he slams the heel of his hand against the steering wheel.

“What’s a 10-16?” Whatever it is, it obviously isn’t good.

“I jinxed it by saying it,” he mutters to himself.

“Grant? Are you okay?” I stare at his profile and can see the disconcert in his posture.

“No. Yes. Fuck. This is the one case I’m worried about.” He glances my way, and I can see the hesitation in his body language. “I need to . . . shit. My cruiser.”

“If you’re worried, just drive there now. I can sit and wait out whatever you need to do. Don’t waste the time taking me back,” I ramble, hating that he is so upset about this call.

“You sure?” He eyes me in a way that says he knows more than I do, which is obvious, and yet, I’m not sure why he feels the need to relay it.

“Yes. Positive. Go.”

He grabs his cell, punches a few numbers, and then holds it to his ear, waiting. “Dispatch, I’m an off-duty officer responding to the call for 12662 Serenity Court,” he says. “Yes. Grant Malone . . . I’m in civilian clothes but want it known to the guys on scene that I’m responding . . . No. It’s an ongoing situation. I’ve been monitoring every call you have listed there . . . Yeah . . . I know, but I’m on my way. 10-4.”

It doesn’t take long to make it to the address, but that could be because Grant may or may not have completely demolished the speed limit.

When we pull onto the street and park beside two other cruisers, trepidation takes hold. I’m sure it will be cool seeing Grant in action, but at the same time, I feel like I’m eavesdropping on someone else’s life.

As if I’m violating their privacy by being here.

“Goddamnit,” he mutters as he slams the truck into park, flings the door open, and jogs up the front walkway.

Then I see her.

The little girl sits on a rock in the middle of a planter in the front yard with a teddy bear hugged tight to her chest. She’s looking down at her bear’s face, fingers picking at its eyes, as a big, burly police officer awkwardly tries to talk to her.

“Keely.” I hear Grant say the name, and the minute it is out of his mouth, she looks up. A ghost of a smile turns up the corners of her lips, but something about her face expresses a sadness so strong I can feel it deep in my bones.

Big, burly officer visibly relaxes and has no problem stepping back. Grant lowers himself to the ground and sits cross-legged beside her.

“Oh.” My hand flies up to cover my mouth, and tears sting my eyes at the mere sight of them. There is a comfort between them, a gentleness to him I never expected to see. He talks to her, pointing to her bear and the rocks in the planter around her. It’s so obvious from the outside how hard he is working to make her smile and put her at ease.

Curiosity has me glancing to the backs of the officers standing at the front door, but I can’t keep my eyes away from Grant and Keely for very long. There is something so precious and heartbreaking about their interaction. He dwarfs her, and yet, she seems completely at ease with him. They talk some, his expression so serious when she looks away and then warm when she comes back to him. He works for her smile, and when she grants it, there is a flicker of hope under all the shadows haunting her eyes.