Page 8 of On a Deadline

She slipped her arms into her leather jacket and swung her bag over one shoulder. As she walked toward the lot, she paused briefly at the back exit and glanced over her shoulder, the stillness inside the station pulling at her in some weird, reluctant way.

Outside, the air was cold enough to bite. Erin shoved her hands into her coat pockets and crossed to her car, her beat-up Volkswagen, stubborn as hell. It had survived two cross-country moves but barely tolerated a cold night.

She got in, turned the key, and was met with a dull click.

Of course.

She tried again, a little harder this time, even though it was useless.

Click.

“Great.”

Erin dropped her head to the steering wheel and groaned. The battery had been on its last legs for weeks. She hadn’t had time to get it looked at, and now here she was, alone in the parking lot at 11 p.m. on a Friday, with a dead battery and no one around.

She popped the trunk and climbed out, slamming the door behind her, and stared at the space where her portable jump starter usually sat. She could’ve sworn she left it in there. Maybe she’d brought it inside to charge. Maybe she never had one in the first place. Either way, no help now.

Frustrated, she slammed the trunk shut and leaned against the car. She could call roadside, but that meant staying out here who knows how long, and she’d have to swipe them into the employee lot with the badge she’dstupidly left in her bag on the passenger seat, inside her now-locked car. She could ask for help inside, but the night shift officers barely knew her. She didn’t want to be a hassle.

Erin stared at her phone screen, thumb hovering over a familiar name.

Tilly.

She hadn’t called them in months, not since the move, not since things had gotten too tangled to fix. It was stupid. But she didn’t know who else to call.

Her finger hovered for another beat before she tapped the name and brought the phone to her ear.

One ring.

Two.

She started to pull it away, ready to hang up, when the line clicked.

“Hello?” Tilly’s voice was groggy but cautious.

Erin’s chest tightened. “Hey. It’s me.”

There was a pause. “Yeah, I see that. What’s going on?”

“I’m still at the station,” Erin said. “My car’s dead, I don’t have a jumper, and I might’ve locked my badge in the car.”

Another beat of silence. Tilly’s breath came through the line like static. “Seriously?”

“I know,” Erin murmured. “I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have called if I had another option.”

The pause this time felt heavier.

“I’m in Cambridge tonight.”

Erin nodded to herself, even though no one could see. “Right. Of course.”

“I’m sorry, Erin. I hope you get home okay.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” She hung up before Tilly could say anything else.

The screen dimmed in her hand, leaving her face lit only by the soft glow of the streetlight overhead. She let out a breath, slow and quiet, then turned toward the sidewalk, her steps heavy as she started the walk home.

Six