Heathens & Hand Grenades (Book 1 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 51- Colt

It's been 1,125 days since I've had my doll in my arms. Each one has passed like an eternity waiting for the perfect cast of a line when the fish just won't bite. Knowing she's out there and any moment she could be, no, has been snatched from me has landed with more trips to the hardware store than I'd like to admit. At this point, I've become an expert at repairing drywall. Never been so glad for basic white walls. Makes repainting easier.

"Barnes!"

Looking up from my computer's screen, I can see my father's face. It's long since gone past his usual sun-tanned skin and gone further toward the ruddy complexion that signals one too many beers or anger, sometimes both. Considering we're both in uniform and at work, it's the former. Here I'm just Deputy Barnes, no longer Colton, his only son. Though with the look he's giving me, the line is blurring. He knows what this case means to me.

"In my office."

Standing from my desk, I adjust my uniform until it sits just right on my shoulders. Poor posture won't do and the stress of seeing my doll's face, three years older and just as beautiful as the last time I laid eyes upon her has me slacking. I correct my form despite the strain of my back letting me know it's been relaxed for far too long. Better to work on my discipline now, away from my girl. Strict training will be necessary when she's back in my arms. God knows the kind of behavior she'll have to unlearn, not to mention the punishment she's well overdue for.

Running.

I scoff. Didn't think she had it in her. Was more than confident she wouldn't dare.

That's on me. I needed to train her better. I've been studying while she's been gone and I won't be making the same mistakes.

Apparently the two of us weren't enough of a family. Perhaps if there were three of us, she might be more inclined to stay.

"Now, Barnes!" My dad yells from behind his partially opened door.

I close my eyes inhaling a deep breath. This is not the time or place. I'll just make a stop at the gun range after work to take out my aggression. My father sure knows how to push my buttons. He should, considering he has the same ones.

Stepping into his office, I'm assaulted by the distinct smell of Marlboro reds despite never having seen the man smoke in his office. The scent clings to his skin, seeping out of his pores and infecting every space he enters. He quit for a moment when mom got sick, but could only hold out a month after she passed before he was back at it at double the rate.

"Sit down son," he says as he closes the door behind me, the lock sounding louder than a gunshot to my ears. He never locks his office door.

My palms are sweating and I force my eyes to stare at his desk if they can't meet his face. Don't let him see weakness Colt. Bury it.

"I want you to recuse yourself from this case," he starts off.

I must have misheard him. I almost thought he said he wanted me off of the case, but that's not possible.

I'm the best man for the job. No one will work as hard to find her as me. That's not bragging; it's just a fact. By all accounts, I should be running this search. Calista is my girl.

Mine.

"Now I know this must be hard to hear, but I can't have you distracted by your personal connection to the victim" he keeps going in that same stern monotone he takes when dispensing case information. As if this was just any normal case.