Chapter 13
of Strange Moon Rising
Previously: Riley finalizes her stakeout plans. The Logan brothers lie about Luke.
The clatter of Anne’s heels on the bullpen’s linoleum drew Riley out of a blurry-eyed trance. Greg and Andy had similar dazed expressions, numb after scrubbing through hours of CCTV footage—grainy, black-and-white, distorted footage at that. Riley had yet to see anything helpful, but she dutifully noted times and appearances on the scant amount of cars passing by the road.
Anne, hands of her hips, announced, “Non-emergency welfare check out on Veekers.”
A duet of groans from the Logan brothers peaked her curiosity. Riley quirked a brow at Anne. “That happen a lot?”
“Yes, unfortunately. Draw some straws,” she called over her shoulder as she returned to her domain.
Riley did a double-take when she caught the grin on Greg’s face. She glanced at Andy and found a matching one.
Andy linked his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Why don’t you take that one?”
She fought to keep her expression neutral. “You don’t think it’ll need a more practiced hand?”
“Nah.” Andy shook his head. “There’s nothing to it. Ask a couple questions, take a gander around, and you’re back to the station before you know it.”
Not buying the innocent looks they were dishing out, Riley waved her hands at herself. “You know, it might be better one of you two go, seeing as I don’t have my uniform yet.”
“Don’t worry about that, just throw your badge on a chain and make sure it’s shiny-side-up.” Greg pulled a simple chain from a drawer and tossed it on her desk.
She fingered the tarnished metal, searching for another bullshit excuse, and sighed. “Alright, I’m going.” Riley ignored their not-so-subtle victory wiggles. ‘That-one-house’ calls were a right of passage. She should be jumping at the chance.
“Shit!” Riley ducked a glass bottle, sidestepping the spray of shards when it met the cracked cinder-block wall behind her. She took cover behind a moldering sofa carcass. “Police!” she yelled over the clank and shatter of another bottle that fell short of the couch by a few feet.
The robed man chucked another. “Nuh-uh, I know all them!” The bottle hit the sofa, bouncing of the exposed springs with a tink. A clear bottle sailed over her head. Shards pelted her back when it broke.
“I’m new, you crazy son-of-a-bitch!” Riley yanked her badge off her borrowed chain and held it up over the sofa back. Another bottle sailed far to the left, shattering well away from her.
He paused his aerial assault. “S’that?”
“My badge. I’m Officer MacIntyre with Woodrun PD.” She peeked over the edge of the sofa to see him squinting at it.
“Yeah, le’ me see.” He set the bottle bin aside and gestured her up to his front door.
Riley kept a hand on the butt of her Taser as she approached, crunching through multicolored glass, keeping her badge extended.
Chad Epper fully believed she was who she said she was once Riley’d recited the entirety of the Miranda Rights.
“Nobody knows that whole thing ‘cept the cops,” he’d said, “and me, ‘cause I got them said at me a whole bunch.”
“I apologize for the rude comment earlier.”
Chad shrugged. “S’okay. I can be a crazy some-bitch sometimes. That one guy, Eli—he was good about that—I miss him. We came to a mutual arrange-a-ment, you know? I won’t toss nothing at you next time.”
He saw Riley off with a cheerful wave after showing her around his place and introducing her to his dozy Great Dane, who barely opened an eye before rolling over for belly rubs.
Riley passed through the station doors and stopped just short of smacking into the last person she’d want to. “Sorry, Officer Brand.”
He braced his hand on the door jam to stop his forward motion, all six-foot-two of him rocking to a halt a half-step away, boxing her in. “No problem,” and before she could sidle away, “Kellen’s fine, by the way.”
Not entirely sure he meant that, she nodded, head craned up at an awkward angle.
He reached out, tugging something from her hair. Kellen held up a piece of clear glass, twisting until it winked under the fluorescent lights. “What’s this?”
Riley cleared her throat, proud she hadn’t flinched. “That’s Chad Epper.”
Kellen smirked and stepped back, tossing the piece in the nearest trashcan. “Logans’ talk you into that?”
“Yep.” What was his face doing? Was that… a smile?
“We’ve all had to dodge those bottles. His sister calls us over to check on him so she doesn’t have to.”
Caught between the urge to get out of the conversation and stay to observe the new person impersonating Officer Brand, Riley shrugged. “They could’ve warned me.”
He snorted. “Newbie gets the shit jobs.”
“If that’s the worst of it, I’ll take it. Chad promised he wouldn’t use me as target practice next time around. Better than anything I’d deal with in a city department.”
“I’m sure.” He leaned a shoulder against the wall. “We used to arrest him for his throwing habits—why didn’t you cuff him?”
Riley mimicked his relaxed posture. “I was a stranger approaching his home. The first bottle was already in the air before I could announce myself, and when I did, he stopped. Well, he was ready to throw another if I failed recite the entirety of the Miranda Rights.”
Kellen tipped his head back and laughed, the warmth in his expression the most emotion Riley’d ever seen out of him. “He would chuck bottles and dog shit at the officer who’d last arrested him. Eventually, we reached an agreement of no throwing equals no jail time.”
“If any of that Great Dane’s poo had flown my way, I would’ve booked him.” Riley smiled and shook her head. “He didn’t mention that, just said he missed Eli.”
The moment the name crossed her lips, Kellen closed off. He straightened up and smoothed his expression back into an apathetic glower. Riley watched the process with morbid fascination. He nodded in lieu of a goodbye and left the station, leaving her blinking at the doors as they swung shut. Eli’s a sore subject. Noted.
“Hey, Red. How’d it go?” greeted her when she entered the bullpen.
She looked down her nose at Andy. “I narrowly escaped death by a thousand cuts.”
Greg emerged from the kitchen. “Please, Chad aims like a stormtrooper.”
“And yet, Kellen just pulled glass out of my hair.” Riley spun her chair around and logged into her computer.
“Is that who I heard laughing?” Greg looked as surprised as she’d been.
“Yeah, until I mentioned Eli. That’s the other officer who transfered to California?”
Andy nodded. “Eli Rasmussen. Good guy, good cop.”
“Kellen will warm up to you,” Greg promised.
“I’d settle for a little civility.”
He offered her a carton of blueberries. “We’re almost through the ATM footage. We split yours, ‘since you were so kind to take Epper.”
Riley grabbed a handful of berries, typing the beginning of another welfare report with one hand.
Obligatory Legal Stuff:
This chapter is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places, and incidences are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, locals, and events are coincidental.
No generative AI used. No AI training or scraping allowed.
All rights reserved.
Chapter Title Image created in Canva. Background image from Canva Pro.