Check Six: A Kate Darby Crime Novel, #3

About the Kate Darby novels:

I’ve been wanting to write a series to highlight our men and women in blue for quite some time, and I even started with a series called Uncertain, but I realized the novellas didn’t do the stories justice. Then the idea came to write a series set in East Texas, so I made up the small city of Peculiar, Texas, and set my story in a place with a small college and a beautiful lake. These stories are the remake of the original Uncertain series, expanded and all new characters and details.

The stories in this series have instances of real occurrences that happen to uniform cops on a regular basis. I tried to portrait the real world as much as possible, but gave myself artistic license to change details to fit the stories.

Yes, it’s true that small towns don’t have a full detective unit, and the officers are required to investigate major crimes. Sometimes they are assisted by other agencies, but many times, the crimes are investigated by the local cops. These are the stories of the police officers of Peculiar, Texas.

As for the titles:

Each title in this police procedural/crime fiction series is a cop slang term, and I’ll be using the terms in alphabetical order, so you’ll know the order in which to read the books.

I really hope you enjoy this series as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it.

COP SLANG

Term: Check Six

Check or watch your back

Chapter 1

Have you ever been so excited about something, and dreaded it at the same time? Kate Darby wondered the same about herself as she dressed for work that morning. She’d been gone from the Peculiar Police force for almost a year. She should be celebrating going back, but she wasn’t, because that would also mean celebrating the reason she’d been gone in the first place.

I’ll be celebrating.

Kate turned, but no one was there. No, not again. She was done with that. Moved past it. She’d killed the voices in her head. The voice being gone for good was the reason she was ready to work again. All of those months of therapy, she was so over Silva.

Pulling a white tank top over her head, she walked over to the bed. She’d placed pieces of her uniform strategically, and as she sat down to put on her socks, she wondered how it would all feel, and if the Kevlar vest would irritate the scar. Then cold, dead fingers grazed her skin. A chill overcame her. She froze.

She’d been alone for months. No voices, no fingers touching her skin. How did this happen? How could he be back? Kate shook her head. It couldn’t be; it was only nerves.

Rubbing the fabric of her tee over the area of the bullet wound, she’d gotten to where most of the time she didn’t think about it anymore. She didn’t see it when scrubbing her body down in the shower, didn’t feel it rubbing against her clothing. But on this day, it felt as if it stuck out further: irritated, mad, mocking her.

No two-bit hustling drug dealer was going to mock her, or change her life for good, she thought as she put the scar, and him, out of her mind. She forced herself to concentrate on the day ahead as she continued to dress for work.

The routine was easy. She’d done it more than a thousand times: bra, panties, socks, T-shirt, vest…this was when she hesitated.

It was a whisper. What the hell good did a vest do you that night?

What vest? she thought. Kate had been stripped down to a bra and panties, and nothing short of a miracle had saved her life. Her pulse quickened as she recalled that night, the miracle, and the great ambulance crew along with incredible surgeons. They were her miracle. She’d been ready to kiss her fucked up life goodbye, but those talented professionals pulled her back from the abyss. The least she could do now was to keep their streets safe from the types who tried to kill her.

It was a fluke; he wasn’t trying to kill me, Kate said aloud, even though she knew the truth. The same thing she’d told the counselors. The chances of something like that happening again were less than slim-to-none. She believed it with all her heart. She’d been offered up as bait. She’d been blindsided like everyone else.

Yes, we did. We meant to rape and kill you. Slowly.

Kate knew the truth now. She’d been set up big time, put in a position to be killed, only she’d outsmarted the numb nuts. But she hadn’t done it alone. If not for the informant she’d gone to meet, she would surely be dead.

She walked over to the French doors of her second-floor bedroom in the grand plantation house she now called home. According to her grandfather’s will, the land would continue to grow pecans for the foreseeable future. Harvest season had started, and she didn’t dare open the doors, even though the breeze would feel good. Mosquitoes seemed to be rather thick for this time of the year.

Azizi Carter, the only other tenant on the land besides Kate and her brother Bryce, had once called East Texas mosquitoes a terrible cross-breeding of fairies and vampires. Kate couldn’t remember what word Azizi had used for vampires. When Kate had laughed, and Azizi didn’t, she realized the old woman was serious.

As much as she loved looking over the land she now called hers, she was glad her grandfather’s estate lawyer had set up all of the maintenance. The land for the pecans was leased, which helped pay the upkeep on the home and land. This antebellum home’s needs were beyond her budget, and she was sure the property taxes were more than her yearly salary. She often wondered how different her life would have been if she knew she had grandparents nearby. She’d have been happy to know them. Or him, since her grandfather had been the only one still around.

Turning away from the doors, she pulled the sheers over the floor-to-ceiling windows of the doors. She didn’t understand the mentality of sheers keeping the house cooler, since the heavy damask draperies would do more to keep the light and sun out, but Azizi changed the rugs and draperies with the seasons.

Finally, Kate picked up the vest and pulled it over her head. Remembering exactly how she liked the Velcro straps placed on her shoulders, she adjusted the others around her chest and back, pulling the side straps into place. It somehow didn’t fit right, as if someone had a hand in the way.

She’d lost weight during her time off. Not at first, because a gunshot would put a girl down for a bit. But as soon as she had the go ahead, she’d started walking and weight training. Then she started running. And when that wasn’t enough, she added weights around her hips; starting with ten pounds and working her way to thirty. Sprints were the toughest, so she only did them three days a week. She ran six days a week, because her physical therapist insisted she take at least one day a week off. Along with department mandated mental and physical therapy, running became her supplemental therapy. Never again would a man have the upper hand on her, even if she was stripped naked. Though she knew she’d never get to that point again, ever.

Shit, she said, ripping the Velcro apart, trying again. It wasn’t like she’d ever gotten it right the first time before, but for some reason, it irritated her today. Then she remembered, she needed to put her pants on first. At least get her legs in them anyway.

Leaving the vest on, but the sides unstrapped, she pulled a freshly cleaned uniform out of the dry-cleaning bag. The blue stripe down the side leg of the pants looked nice and crisply starched. Sitting on the bed again, moving the vest to a better position, she shoved her foot through the opening of the pants. The heavy starch made this quite a task. Once the pants were on and pulled up to mid-thigh, she stood and pulled them up over her butt, and tucked her T-shirt in. Now she was ready to adjust the side straps on her vest.

It still didn’t feel right. But it was what it was.

No, it’s not.

Fuck you, she said to the voice. She was overthinking it. The voices were fake stress. She was ready to go back on duty, and had proved it to herself when she came back to Peculiar. Mind over matter.

Peculiar was her home. She’d never liked it as a kid, because her childhood sucked and she blamed it on the town, when the blame went strictly on her biological parent and the fucked-up state foster system.

Not far from Greenville, Texas, Peculiar longed to be like the bigger cities. A cute little college and lake town, if you weren’t aware of the festering underbelly lying just beneath the surface. That underbelly made her come back, made her stay. She wanted to save Peculiar from itself.

Kate worked through her gunshot wound aftermath with occupational and physical therapy. She’d tackled her psychological issues with the psychologist and group therapy at the trauma center in Dallas. Being in Dallas made her miss Peculiar in ways she never imagined.

She’d been amazed at the number of cops treated at Dallas Post Trauma Center. Those other cops made her feel safe sharing, because they’d dealt with similar issues. Being in the bigger city made her feel out of sorts, but the city wasn’t so large she felt lost. She’d been there plenty of times as a kid. She didn’t like to think about those trips, since they usually involved the foster system and child services.

She’d been with her own kind at DPTC. Cops who needed help working through something they’d witnessed, experienced, or done. By the time her eight weeks were up, she just wanted to be at home, with cops who didn’t need help. When she first arrived, even though it was voluntary, she had no empathy. No matter the situation, it wasn’t hers, and she didn’t want to hear the other LEOs working through their issues. She had enough trouble with her own. She wasn’t there to make friends. In the end, she did make a few friends, and she learned empathy. No, their situations would never be the same, but the underlying trauma was.

Deep down, now that it was over, it was good to know she wasn’t alone. No matter how many people tell you they understand, no one understands unless they’ve been there. The people at DPTC had been there. If only she’d appreciated that more at the time. She could use a friend who understood, but she wasn’t the type to reach out.

Kate nearly jumped out of her pants when she heard the doorbell. Stopping for a moment in her morning routine, she almost didn’t bother to answer. She wasn’t expecting anyone. She had no desire to chat with a Jehovah’s Witness and sure didn’t want to be late for work. The drive from the plantation would take her a good fifteen minutes as it was.

Looking out over the front balcony, she saw the Dodge Charger, so she walked down the stairs saying aloud, to herself, What are you doing here?

She opened the door and stood with her body blocking the opening, What are you doing here? she said to Zane.

Nice to see you, too, Zane said. Sergeant Zane Gwilly was her boss, not to mention her ex-husband.

As soon as she opened the front door, the shadow that seemed to be on her all morning vanished.

Why are you here? she asked again as she walked back up the stairs to the bedroom.

Zane followed her. I thought I’d give you a ride, since you don’t have your police issue vehicle here.

There was safety in having Zane there, making her feel readier than ever to go back to work. He’d been her rock through this reinstatement. There were new bosses to meet and impress. He’d regaled many an officer and administrator with his story of Kate’s shooting accuracy. She’d heard the stories as he relayed them to her. Other than that, she stayed away from the department, preferring her brother’s company while she went through her recovery. And Azizi’s company helped her start feeling at home in her grandfather’s old home.

Kate knew the job wasn’t just about being able to shoot, it was about being smart, thinking fast, and sometimes being patient. It was the patience she had the most trouble with.

Would you do this for your other officers? Kate buttoned her shirt over her vest and pinned her badge in place. The feel of the cold metal on her fingers gave her strength and chilled her at the same time.

Don’t read into it, Kate. Zane grabbed her belt from the bed and held it out.

I’m still not going to have sex with you. Kate looked up, grinning.

Oh, darn. He stepped back and leaned against the door frame. I guess I’ll have to keep trying.

I think I’m nervous. Kate wanted to change the subject and get serious.

As she tucked her shirt in and fastened her belt, she looked to Zane for reassurance. When he said nothing, she grabbed her duty belt and fastened it over her personal belt. Making the adjustments, and feeling the weight of it, she sat down again and pushed her feet into her boots.

She’d messed up the process. Pants and boots before vest and shirt. She knew better.

Zane came over and knelt down in front of her, grabbing the laces he cinched the boots tight. I’d be nervous, too. But you’re starting fresh, and the people responsible for your leave of absence are long gone.

I’m over that, Kate lied. It’s the fact that I’m coming back to the force, but it is all new bosses. She let him finish tying her boots and pulled down her pant legs, then reached for her weapon.

Not all new, Zane said as he stood. There’s still quite a few familiar faces. Condition one?

Kate nodded. Yes, one in the chamber and a full magazine.

Two spare magazines?

Zane! Frustration overcame her.

Sorry. I know you’re more than capable. Remember, I’m your boss too, and I’m not new. He put his hands on her face and kissed her cheek.

Kate felt the familiar pang of loss when he touched her. She almost turned and let him kiss her on the lips. That would’ve been a huge mistake. She’d come this far without leaning on him in a personal context, and she’d make it through this.

He lingered like he wanted to rehash old times and maybe get that kiss. Ready?

Kate looked around the room, panic gripping her like industrial strength Velcro. She reached up to her head and felt the tight bun she’d fastened at the nape of her neck. My hat? I don’t have my hat.

It’s at the station, Kate. Don’t you remember? Zane put his arm around her and led her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Are you sure you’re ready for this?

I was born ready. Kate looked up at him as she lied. She loved his bald head and goofy grin. She loved everything about him. But that wasn’t enough.

Cats are fed? Chores done? You aren’t going to make any excuses? He bumped his hip into her.

I don’t have any cats. I’m finished with excuses. Finished hiding. My psychologist said I’m ready to come back to work. And I hear a sergeant job might be coming open. I figure I can try for that and you’ll become a lieutenant.

I don’t want that job. His words made it clear it wasn’t up for discussion.

Kate held her hand up. Just a minute. She walked through the grand foyer at the entrance of the house, and turned to go into the kitchen. She’d made something to eat, so she needed to grab her lunch bag. She also grabbed a second bag and handed it to Zane, who’d followed her into the kitchen. She’d made him lunch: tuna sandwich, cold pasta salad, and an apple. Somehow, she knew he’d show up. And if he didn’t, it would be her lunch the next day.

You do this for all of the other officers, too? Zane asked as they walked out the front door.

Kate looked back into the house before she closed the door. Oscar Silva, AKA Payaso, stood in the hallway. He grinned, and blood ran out of his mouth and down his chin.

Hey, are you okay? Zane said.

I could make lunch for everyone if you wanted me to. Kate blinked, trying to rid herself of the image of Silva.

They headed out to Zane’s patrol car. Once outside, she was stunned by the bright light so early in the morning. Reaching in her handbag, she pulled out a pair of sunglasses. Once the glare was eliminated, she looked around the plantation. Two cats (not hers) soaked in the sun’s rays, sleeping on an unopened bale of hay. Azizi stood on the porch of the tenant house, staring at them.

She wasn’t staring at them, she was staring past them. Kate turned to see Payaso standing at the edge of the trees. Kate swallowed hard then looked back to Azizi, but she