Fourteen

Crayvin

Today has been anything but slow. We're barely about to reach the six-hour mark into our twelve-hour shift and we've already had thirteen calls. Granted, they've just been minor things, but still. Watching Cassandra walk out of Keva Juice with her weird-ass, green smoothie, I groan as the signal over the police scanner becomes audible once again with the dispatcher's voice.

Dispatch: "Units available for possible four-five-nine, respond."

Cassandra gets into the vehicle and buckles up, looking over at me and quirking her eyebrow in amusement. "Another one?" She asks.

Argh.

"Sounds like it. Hope it's not another drunk walking around."

All these damn public intoxicated calls are driving me mad. Damn Spring breakers. It's the same thing every year during this time. College kids come from all areas and party here in Phoenix and Lake Havasu.

Cassandra nods her head in agreement as she takes a sip of her smoothie, while I reply to dispatch.

"Unit Four is ten-eight."

Dispatch: "Unit Four, respond to Forty-second Avenue in regards to a four-fivenine. Twenty-five-year-old female stated her front door was wide open. Female advised to stay in her vehicle until patrol can arrive."

"Ten-four. I'll be en route now."

I step on the gas and before I manage to turn the siren on, Cassandra flips the switch, bringing the loud noise and flashing red and blue lights to life. From my peripheral vision, I see her squirm in her seat in what I assume to be excitement; she loves this job as much as I do. Luckily, we were close to the location so it only took seven minutes to get there. When we pull up to the curb, I see a woman in panic mode as she quickly emerges from the beat-up, green car she was sitting in.

"Great." I hear Cassandra scoff, quiet enough that I don't think she necessarily wanted me to hear. I lift my brow as I look at my partner. She looks agitated, and I'm not going to waste my time finding out why.

"I'm going to go and speak with her, go ahead and call dispatch. Let them know we're here, and then meet me outside."

Cassandra picks up the radio, rolling her doe eyes and raising her arm in a triumphant salute. "Aye, aye captain," she mouths before contacting dispatch.

I chuckle as I exit the unit. As I approach the woman, the auburn blonde hair and green eyes catch my attention. "Faith?"

Is that Faith Hover? Fuck, she looks older than twenty-five.

Fine lines are building on her forehead and inescapable gray hairs on the sides of her temples shine in the sunlight.

"Crayvin? Wow, long time no see. I had no idea you were a cop," she says while her green orbs scan my body.

I clear my throat to bring her attention back to my eyes, which doesn't do too much. Unfortunately, her eyes scan back up, landing on my biceps. I get the chills thinking about the one and only time I fucked her, which still haunts me to this day. "Faith, I was dispatched here regarding a possible burglary. Can you tell me what happened before you called nine-one-one?"

Her eyes finally reach mine and she nods frantically. "Yeah, so, I came home from work and I noticed my front door was wide open. My lamp that's near the front door was on the floor, broken. I decided not to go inside, in case someone might be in there."

"Well, you did the right thing. I'm going to have you stay out here in your vehicle while my partner and I go take a look around. Is that okay with you?"

She nods and that's when Cassandra finally meets us, making Faith's eyes glower. "Cassandra Porsse? You're a cop too? Oh, if that isn't the funniest thing that you two are partners."

"Well, I'm not too sure on where the funny part is, but you may call me, Officer Porsse, Ma'am." Cassandra's authoritative tone and obvious annoyance with Faith makes me want to laugh at the fact I'm not the only one she gets frustrated with, but I refrain from laughing to remain professional.

Drew says she's sweet. Pfft, sweet my ass.

As Faith purses her pink lips, looks at Cassandra with now protuberant eyes, folds her arms over her chest, her baffled annoyance with Cassandra is crystal clear.

To placate the tension, I suggest, "Porsse, let's just do a quick sweep and make sure it's code four."

Faith gets back in her vehicle and locks the doors as Cassandra and I enter the house. As Faith stated, the lamp was on the floor with nothing left of the bulb beside the scattered shards surrounding it. Cassandra turns her flashlight on and lights the wall, finding a light switch. She flips the switch a few times before giving up. "Well, the power's out." She points out the obvious.

No shit, Sherlock.

"Yeah, I can see that," I reply sarcastically. "Keep your light on," I say, turning mine on as well to add more light to the pitch dark house. We walk further into the house and I find myself entering a bedroom. I look over my shoulder and watch as Cassandra walks silently into what looks like a bathroom.

I shift my light around the room when I see a dark figure scuffle behind the closet door. I keep my light on where the figure was, bringing my gun out and getting in my stance. "Phoenix Police Department. Step out of the closet now." I demand. In a matter of seconds, Cassandra emerges into the room and is at my side.

A noise emits from behind the closet and I can't decipher what it is, making my heart beat just a tad bit faster. "Hear that stiletto tick? Maybe a switchblade?" Cassandra whispers, answering my thoughts. I hate that she made her assumption first because she's probably right.

"Put your hands behind your head and step out from behind the-"

Before I can finish, a hefty male darts out and plunges himself towards Cassandra with full force, the flashlight illuminating the iridescent colored switchblade in his hand. He tackles Cassandra to the floor, toppling his large body over her dinky self, and raises the blade in the air, preparing to stab her. I aim my gun and flashlight, shining a light on the male subject.

"Drop the blade or I'll shoot," I command, my voice raising. My heart is beating at a rapid pace and my breathing is unsteady as I watch my partner lay on the floor beneath the subject with his legs pinning her arms down.