Dana Nussio - Falling For The Cop

At the sound of heavy footsteps, Shane turned toward the hall that led to the superior officers’ offices. Trooper Nick Sanchez, a black-haired ladies’ man who’d switched from the midnight shift just after Shane was shot, started toward them.

“Well, look who took time out from his vacation to pop in.” He crossed to them and shook Shane’s hand.

“Yeah, great vacation. I’d show you my tan, but I’ve been sunbathing nude, and it’s pretty cold out today.”

“Thanks for not sharing.” Nick cleared his throat. “But seriously, man. How are—”

“He’s great, Trooper,” Vinnie answered for him.

Apparently, there would be no downer talk tonight.

“He nearly broke my arm, twisting it to make me bring him to Casey’s tonight,” Vinnie continued.

Shane shot him a glance, but Vinnie refused to look his way. They’d made no such plans. “Yeah, Vinnie’s here to file assault charges. He brought me along to save time.”

“You going?” Vinnie asked Nick.

“I’ll be there if I get that report finished.” Nick pointed to a desk with a travel coffee mug on top.

At the sound of voices behind him, Shane turned to find midnight-shift troopers Dion Carson and Clint McNally emerging from the locker room, one patting his duty belt and the other touching his breast pocket for his badge and nameplate. Both glanced over at the same time and crossed the room to them.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Clint said.

“Good to see you, man,” Dion said as he took his turn patting Shane on the back.

Other officers trickled from the men’s and women’s locker rooms, each stopping to greet him, but Shane could feel their gazes on him after they stepped past, sensed their unspoken questions. Could he blame them? Wouldn’t he have the same questions if one of them had still been in a chair like this one? Wouldn’t he wonder if they would ever be back?

Lieutenant Scott Campbell emerged from his office as he was coming off his shift. “Didn’t know there was a party going on back here. I would have brought balloons and root beer.”

“You don’t have anything stronger here?” Shane asked him.

“Nothing I’ll admit to. What are you two doing here? Did Leonetti kidnap you?”

“Damn near.”

Scott shrugged. “You have to forgive him. He needs work on his sweet-talking skills.”

“I’m trying.”

Shane exchanged a meaningful look with the lieutenant, one he hoped Vinnie would miss. They might joke about forgiving Vinnie, but the sergeant was nowhere near forgiving himself for not arriving at the scene quickly enough to prevent Shane from being shot. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but nobody could convince Vinnie of that.

Vinnie had just been talking to Liz Gallagher, the midnight shift’s only female trooper, about road conditions, but now he turned back to Shane.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure.” He glanced to the door. The trip down the step would be jarring, though not as difficult as going up.

But before they reached the door, it flew open, with several troopers stepping inside and bringing the frigid air with them. They crowded around Shane, telling him how they couldn’t wait for him to return to duty. Shane only wanted to get outside and away from all of them. He couldn’t breathe.

As if Vinnie finally recognized his distress, he opened the door and moved in front of the chair to guide it over the step. Shane’s back teeth crunched as the wheel bounced to the asphalt below.

“You okay?”

Shane nodded. Still, he paused for several long seconds, breathing in the chilly air until his lungs ached. He started toward Vinnie’s SUV, but when he reached it, he couldn’t help glancing back at the unimpressive, single-story brick building.

Why did it feel as if he was seeing the place for the last time? He pushed away the thought, but the sense of loss remained. It was like saying goodbye to a place that had felt more like home to him than anywhere he’d ever lived. The loss hurt more than any bullet wound ever could.

“You don’t look okay,” Vinnie continued.

Shane stared at him until it sank in that he hadn’t answered Vinnie’s earlier question.

“I’m fine.” His laugh sounded strained. “Anyway, you’ve seen me far worse than this. Bleeding like a stuck—”

“Don’t!”

“Not funny yet?”

“It never will be.”

“Never’s a long time.”

“Yes, it is.” Vinnie pushed the automatic button for the SUV’s tailgate, opened it and pressed the transfer board into Shane’s hands.

Apparently, the subject of the shooting was closed, at least for tonight. Shane wasn’t the only one who carried scars from that night. His might be on the outside, but Vinnie’s scars were every bit as real and, perhaps, even deeper.

“Any chance you’d consider just taking me home instead of going out tonight?” Shane asked as he shifted himself from the chair to the SUV’s bucket seat.

“Is that what you want?”

“It’s just that I’m pretty tired.” Maybe his friend would let him off the hook after all.

Vinnie closed the door and, after loading the chair in the back, settled in the driver’s seat. “The guys will sure be disappointed if you don’t come.”

“Is that right?” Shane grinned into the darkness. He’d spoken too soon.

“How about we just make an appearance? Thirty minutes...tops,” Vinnie said. “Just so they all won’t think you’re avoiding them.”

“Okay. Fine,” he said, although their visit tonight should have been enough proof that he wasn’t dodging anyone.

“Great.”

Shane gripped his hands in his lap. As great as it would be to spend time with the rest of the team, hearing the war stories and chuckling at Vinnie’s classic jokes, going to Casey’s would serve as a reminder of everything he’d lost when that bullet had penetrated his back. The laughter. The fellowship. The unique understanding of the risks they willingly faced every day, for each other and for people they’d never met.

All the things he might never have again.

* * *

APPLAUSE BROKE OUT the moment Vinnie pushed Shane’s chair through the front door of Casey’s Diner, the bells jingling like a charity bell ringer with an empty kettle.

“Thank you. Thank you.” Vinnie took a bow. “I’ll be signing autographs for those who would like to cover my dinner.”

“Then put your signing pen away,” Trooper Trevor Cole called from across the room.

Shane’s coworkers usually sat at two booths across from each other, the separation wall between them lowered, but tonight they’d moved to a line of square tables. One of the chairs on one end had been removed, leaving an empty spot for Shane.

“Aren’t you glad you came?” Vinnie said as he pushed Shane’s chair into the spot.

“You knew I would be.”

And he was. These were some of the best people he’d ever known. The most honorable. From the senior officers to the new arrivals. A dozen officers crowded around the table, more than would usually go out on any given Thursday. It couldn’t have been more obvious that they’d come because they’d heard he would be there.

As Vinnie took a seat farther down the table, Ben Peterson leaned over and patted Shane’s shoulder. “It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Wondering how you’ll live without all of these people if you can’t come back.”

Shane blinked at Ben’s directness, but the lieutenant knew what he was talking about. Not so long ago, Ben’s job and freedom had been in jeopardy when he’d been a suspect in an evidence-tampering investigation at the Brighton Post. The officer responsible was in a cell now, but Ben had faced his own long days of uncertainty.