Bestfriends Shouldn’t Know How You Taste

Bestfriends Shouldn’t Know How You Taste Chapter 71

Chapter 71

“Did it slip the captain’s mind that I have a toddler  waiting for me at home? I can’t work overtime.” I  grumble as I bring the cup of coffee to my lips.

God I needed that bitter sweet liquid.

“I don’t think captain Steffen cares.” Nate snorts, kicking  up his feet on the white desk.

I rolled my eyes, placing the cup down on the surface of  the desk.

“He should care because I was the one who made it  possible for him to become the captain that he is today.”

It was true. I was selected to become the next captain of  the department but I turned it down. All for one reason,  my family.

If I had taken that role I would not be able to spend  much time with them as I wanted to. My family is my life,  I can’t stay long without them.

So I turned down the role and recommended Steffen.  Who happened to turn out to be an a*s.

“Officer Waters there’s a call for action at Willow street.”  One of the new recruits ran up to us.

I groaned staring at the ceiling. “I swear that area is the  devil’s spawn.”

I turn to stare at the younger man. His sandy blonde hair  cropped short, brown eyes wide with alarm. He looked  comical but I refrain from laughing at his expense.

“Anything else we need to know before we go there?” I  questioned opening the drawer to pull out my gun. Nate  does the same as he stands up.

head. “They did not give much intel, only  that it

know the exact destination of the  crime?” I asked in a

woman said it was house number 223. That’s  what she

in my duty belt.  “Must be some poor girl who got harra*sed by the many  criminals lurking around this part of

girl had time to call for help.

 the road bare. She had been raped and battered. The lad  who found her was too late, she had been dead hours

the car door

thing I see. I

 head to the many

here? Whatever

and I continue walking ahead until something  familiar caught my

the motorcycle I gifted my first

Nate. Blake had spray painted his name at the sides

 when the

you can’t just

not taking  heed to Nate’s words. “You can’t go in yet.” Another

need to know if this is my son under that  white cloth. “Is that my son,

the  white cloth. Black hair. A sob rack

boy inside there? Dark haired boy?” I asked  one of

“Yes there’s a bo-“

have time to finish as I run into the house.  My stomach churn with unease and my chest gets heavy  with anguish. There lies my son, soaked with blood as  they place him on

believing that it was indeed him.  I hear a shout

painfully when his eyes drop

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