and Bobby’s confidence was growing with each passing minute. Bobby approached the third man, his service weapon now holstered, and read the scene as contained. He reached for his zip ties since his other cuffs were being used, and in that moment felt a wall of pain hit his face. He fell backward to the ground, stunned and unaware of what exactly had happened. There was a kick to his stomach and chest, then a stomp on his back as he attempted to roll away. He reached for his weapon and wondered for a brief second what Officer Rylie was doing. Finally Rylie was there, gun drawn and pointed directly at the man, telling him to back the hell up before he blew his head off.
Bobby lay there, gathering himself while Rylie cuffed the third man and called for backup.
When other squad cars began to arrive Bobby managed to stand and knock most of the dust off his uniform. But the skin over his cheekbone had split where the man’s gaudy gold ring had made contact. An ambulance pulled up and, as much as he had attempted to wave them off, Rylie had insisted Bobby go in and get checked out.
Ten hours later, when he had expected to be collecting the accolades for a job well done, Bobby was being suspended and gun dealers were being released back onto the street. The explanation he was given was that since this was Bobby’s bust he was the point person, even though Rylie had tenure. Rylie had mentioned this to him that morning, but Bobby was too insecure to ask him to elaborate on exactly what their roles would be. He didn’t want to sound green, so he clammed up and nodded his head in agreement. Because he was distracted by the boxing match he was having with assailant number three, none of the men had been read their rights. The officers who came to the scene to transport had assumed Bobby had done so, and proceeded to book them. Their lawyers, who were obviously the kings of technicalities, had been made aware of the minor detail and had their clients walking free in no time.
Bobby shook off the memory as he pulled up at the station. He wasn’t sure what his first day back would involve. Would his fellow officers slap him on the back and tell him not to sweat it, or would his locker be plastered with printed copies of the Miranda rights? He pulled his duffle bag from the trunk of his car and drew in a deep breath. No matter what was in store for him, the first day back would be a long one.
Chapter Three
The following day Piper walked hesitantly into the diner. Yesterday’s commotion had done more than just piss her off; it reminded her that she wasn’t invisible. A scene like that could be enough to draw the attention of the judge, attention she was trying to avoid.
Sitting on the opposite side of the diner wasn’t an option considering she needed to be outside the direct view of the judge in order to watch and listen to him. During the last couple weeks she had managed to overhear a few interesting conversations that the arrogant judge assumed were spoken in a code that no common person could decipher. She didn’t want her run-in with this guy Bobby to undermine her real goal. With that in mind she chose the booth adjacent to the one in which she had previously perched.
Betty sauntered up with her pad in hand and a smile across her wrinkled face. Something about her expression gave Piper a glimmer of joy. Betty’s bliss was as contagious as the flu. It was impossible to keep from smiling when she was shining her bright eyes at you.
“I’m so glad Bobby didn’t run you out of here. I was afraid he scared you off before I had a chance to find out more about you.” Betty’s heavy southern drawl was sweet delight, and the tone of her voice was as warm and welcoming as fresh-baked cookies. Piper had grown fond of her unique turn of phrase over the last couple of weeks.
“It takes more than a little fuss to keep me away,” Piper smirked wryly. She glanced over the menu, though she and Betty both knew that she’d be ordering the same thing she had for the last two weeks—a bowl of oatmeal with strawberries and syrup. It was the closest thing on the