Page 9 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)

“Why? Do I have designer bags under my eyes?” She grins, but it doesn’t brighten her face like it normally does. Instead, it makes her seem small.

I bump into her shoulder and stop outside of my car. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, Officer. Everything's just peachy. Speaking of peachy, make sure to tell Elliott I dropped off some peach scones with lemon glaze at The Groovy Bean.”

“Do you need a ride?” I open the driver's side door and point inside. “I could toss you in the back for fun after what you just pulled.”

She shakes her head, a giggle bursting from her parted lips. It’s a good look on her, this smile. Much better than the sad, reserved look she was wearing moments ago.

“No, thank you. I actually drove here.” She points across the street where her car is parked. “It’s freezing. I’m going to go. I’ll see you later.” She gives me a wave and no time to respond before she rushes toward her vehicle and hops inside.

I watch as she drives away, turning onto a street that leads to her house before I start my car and make my way toward the police station. As I drive a few blocks, a sudden motion catches my eye as a kid on the side of the road starts waving his arms and shouting something I can’t quite make out.

As I head toward the blond-haired boy, who looks to be about nine years old, he points up at a small oak tree and says, “Mister! Come help! My friend is stuck up there.”

I follow the kid until we’re at the base of the tree, and sure enough, another little boy about his age is clinging to a branch for dear life.

I don’t care for heights. There’s something about defying gravity and being away from the safety of the earth that instantly spikes my anxiety.

I can already feel my palms become clammy with the thought of having to climb this tree.

“Please get me down!” the other boy shrieks, squeezing the tree limb tighter.

Jesus, please help me not die today.

“What’s your name?” I ask the first boy.

“My name is Reid. He’s Andrew, but I call him Buzz.”

I take a deep breath, focusing my attention on Buzz, and begin climbing the tree one limb at a time, doing my best to ignore the burning in my knee that’s still healing.

Luckily, he isn’t too high up, but I still don’t look down.

Because if I do, I know I’ll freeze, and then Reid will have to rescue us both.

“Hey, Buzz. My name is Officer Beckett. I need you to focus on everything I’m saying, and together we’ll get you down from here, okay?”

Buzz whimpers but gives me a small nod as he watches me. “Okay.”

“Do you like the movie Toy Story ?” I ask, using the question as a distraction for the both of us as I balance onto another branch.

“Yes. It’s how I got my nickname.”

“I thought so. Since Woody is an officer?—”

“He’s a sheriff!” Reid shouts up to us.

I push myself up onto another limb until I’m face to face with Buzz. “A sheriff and an officer are similar. So let’s pretend I’m Woody, and you’re Buzz Lightyear.”

“Okay.” Buzz nods a second time, his big blue eyes focused fully on me.

“You know what I love most about Woody and Buzz? They’re both very brave.”

“Buzz also falls with style!” Reid yells, a snicker following .

Buzz’s eyes go wide, and he clings tighter to the limb. “I don’t want to fall.”

“I won’t let that happen. Okay? Do you know who can help give you the kind of bravery Woody and Buzz Lightyear have?”

Buzz shakes his head.

“Jesus can. Would you like me to pray for Jesus to help you be brave so we can get you down from this tree?” I ask, hearing the unsteadiness in my voice.

My knees are shaking, and I tighten my grip on the tree limb.

I need the same prayer to make it through this.

If someone would have told me that I would wake up and have to deal with Ms. Johnson and have to climb a tree, I would have called in sick.

However, had I not been traveling past this road, who would have helped Buzz down from this tree?

What if he had been stuck for hours or, worse, fell and got hurt?

“Dear Lord, please help give Buzz the strength, courage, and bravery to make it down this tree safe and sound. In Jesus’ name, Amen.” And send that same stuff my way too, please. “Alright, Buzz, Andy needs us to make it back into his bedroom. How about we get out of this tree together?”

“Okay, Woody.” Buzz gives me an approving nod, determination replacing the fear in his eyes, and he reaches a hand out toward mine.

I guide Buzz’s foot down to the nearest branch, instructing him where to place his hands as we make our way down. “Hey, Buzz, do you know where Hamm went to school?” I ask, attempting to distract him as we move down to the next branch.

“Where?” There’s a slight tremble in his voice, and I make sure to place a hand on his back for support.

“ Hog warts,” I reply, but I don’t get a laugh from Buzz. Reid, however, snorts down below us.

“That was one of those horrible dad jokes.”

“Oh yeah? Can you do any better?” I ask as I guide Buzz’s foot.

“Yeah, of course. What did Rex say to Woody after he ate a toy?” Reid says, his voice getting louder as we reach the base of the tree. I peek down this time, seeing that we’re only one limb away from being at the bottom of the tree.

“What’s that?” I ask, hopping down onto the grass and reaching up to grab Buzz.

“You got a friend in me.” Reid snorts.

I grin, a laugh on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t tell if the joy is from his corny joke or the fact that Buzz and I survived. I lift him from the tree and place him down onto the ground. As soon as his feet hit the ground, Buzz smiles brightly and crashes into me with a tight hug.

“Thanks, Woody.”

I return the hug and say to him, “Thank Jesus. He’s the one that made sure you were brave and safe.”

He nods, and it’s moments like this that remind me of why I love my job. That is, until Reid announces, “Okay, now we need you to go rescue that cat.”

“I need to do what?”

“I was trying to rescue the cat,” Buzz adds, pointing up at the tree.

My gaze follows his finger, and sure enough, there is a white-and-orange cat in the tree. It meows and tries to jump down to the branch below it but misses and catches itself on the next branch. Nope. I’m not going back up there.

“Listen, it’s not in my job description to save cats. You can call the fire department. They live for this stuff.”

Reid frowns up at me, placing his hands onto his hips, and says, “Your job description is to help everyone. Do your job, and protect the cat.”

I’ve had enough of this kid. I give Buzz a pat on the head, telling him to go back inside where it’s warm and safe, and turn to make my way back to my cruiser. However, Reid’s words have me freezing in my place.

“What are you? Chicken?”

Much like my favorite character from the 80s, Marty McFly, I have this need to prove myself when someone calls me a chicken, and that’s exactly what I did for the two nine-year-olds.

I sigh, looking down and shaking my head.

By the grace of God, I made it down the tree with only a few scratches from the cat.

When I went to hand the cat over to the children, Reid claimed he was allergic, and Buzz said he wasn’t allowed to have pets.

When I went to set the cat down, Buzz had tears in his eyes.

He informed me that he didn’t want the cat to be all by itself in the cold, and he made me promise that I would help find the orange-and-white furball a new home, which is why I’m currently walking into the police station with a purring feline in my hands.

“There he is,” my partner, Rick, says before eyeing the cat in my hands. A bright smile takes over his bearded face, revealing his coffee-stained teeth, and something seems to twinkle behind his blue eyes. “Well, you have got to be kitten me.”

“Yeah, yeah, I had to save a cat from a tree today. Big deal. He can be yours now.” I go to hand the cat over to Rick, but the furball hisses in response, and sinks its claws into my arm.

“I don’t think he likes me. Plus, my wife would have a fit if I brought anything with fur into our home.”

“Hey, Rick, Miss Preston called. Her cat got fined for littering, ” Lucy, my co-worker, calls from her desk, chuckling as she snaps a photo of us, and starts typing on her phone.

“Ha-ha, that’s funny,” I say to her before turning to Rick and adding, “I ate your scones, by the way. You shouldn’t feed into Olivia’s crazy ideas. You’re lucky I don’t fire you.”

Rick’s smirk grows. “Good thing you can’t fire your partner.”

“I’m a total cat purr -son,” Elliott claims as he gets up from his desk and walks my way. “I could gift him or her to Cindy. She loves cats. Let me see the little feller.”

Elliott reaches out to grab the cat but snatches his hand back when the cat hisses and swats at his hand.

Apparently, the cat doesn’t care for anyone else.

I can’t have a pet because I don’t have the time to take care of it.

My schedule won’t allow it. An idea strikes me, and I know exactly who I’ll give this cat to.

“All kitten aside, you had a phone call while you were out. I left the message on a sticky note on your desk. Don’t look at me like that. These puns are hiss -terical, and you know it. Quit being so grumpy.”

Everyone in the room joins in the laughter, and I beeline it to my office, making sure to lock the door behind me, and set the cat down on the floor.

“Please don’t use my office as a bathroom,” I say, studying him as he sniffs the floor for a few seconds before walking over to my spare chair and hopping onto it.

He purrs softly once he’s settled in for a nap.

I take a seat at my desk and pick up the bright-pink sticky note waiting for me.

All it says is to call this number, and it’s not one I recognize.

I pull out my phone, dial the number, and let it ring for a few moments.

My whole body stiffens as a very familiar voice comes over the speaker—a voice that has haunted my dreams since I was a little boy.

“Luke?” my dad says. His usual booming tone sounds weak, strangled almost. “I’m glad you called.”

He’s glad I called? I haven’t spoken to him since the day I graduated from the police academy and became an officer.

I was able to run him and his crew out of town when I threatened that if I ever saw them again, I would put every single one of them in jail.

Thankfully, I haven’t seen them since, and Covewood has been a much safer place because of it.

“Don’t call this number ever again,” I growl.

“No, wait! Luke, I—” I hear him say before I hit the red button to end the call .

I don’t feel an ounce of guilt for hanging up on him.

My father is not a loving man. Actually, I take that back; he did love control, alcohol, and himself.

I spent so many years thinking I was worthless.

I’d be lying if I said that I still didn’t most days.

His poisonous ways of parenting altered my perception.

I knew I'd never be the same after the first time he laid a hand on me. Every time I started to heal, he would weasel his way back in, just long enough to break me all over again, until I was in so many pieces I wasn’t sure I could ever put myself back together.

I don’t think I can forgive him for that. No matter how hard I’ve tried, placing my hands upon an altar at church or having long talks with a therapist, that anger lives inside my heart.

All the old feelings I’ve worked so hard to lock away are banging against my ribcage. I refuse to let them out. I come off like someone who has control over their emotions, but it’s all a lie. Deep down, I’m filled with an anger I wish I never had to deal with, and it’s all because of my dad.

I rip the sticky note, toss it into the garbage can, and block the number on my phone. I grab my coat, deciding that I need to get out of here, and lift the cat into my arms.

I walk over to Rick’s desk, slamming my palm down as I say, “If that number ever calls this station again, you hang up. Do you hear me?”

“Who was?—”

“I’m leaving for the day,” I call over my shoulder as I turn and stomp my way through the front doors, silently hoping that the chilled air will calm the fire burning within me.