Page 5 of No Take Backs
The last shift I have to serve before going full-time with the Birch Harbor Fire Department, and I won’t even be able to make a clean break of it.
Blaine turns around, his eyes flashing with warning while he stares over my shoulder at the noisy crowd and the music, looking for a threat. “What’s up?” He just doesn’t realize the threat is at his feet.
“There.” I point down.
There, in the contents that spilled out of the black backpack, are tiny ziplock bags, only used for one thing. And as I crouch down in front of him, I know he is seeing the rest. Discolored rocks—obviously cocaine—with two used glass pipes.
We block the view from the kid and any other bystanders for the moment and I take out my phone, quickly snapping photos of the evidence and scene in front of me. Shit is going to go down, and I need to make sure I cover my ass… and Blaine’s.
I can feel the weight of the day pressing down on me, heavier now than it’s been all afternoon, and I know without a doubt that this is going to be one of those moments that changes everything. I glance at Blaine, hoping he understands the gravity of the situation without me having to spell it out, because there’s no easy way out of this. Not anymore.
“Fuckin’ last day on the job and I’m gonna have to arrest somebody in front of a bunch of kids.” I scrub a hand down my face in aggravation. “Wonderful.” Shaking my head, I can’t help the curses coming out. “Son of a bitch.”
I think we are doing a good job of keeping the scene contained, or at least under the radar. The kids around us start to disperse, going about their business, ignoring the two of us seemingly picking up a mess.
That is, until another woman marches right up to us with panic in her voice. The same woman I was giving Blaine shit about only a few minutes before.
“Damn it. Sorry. My daughter gets distracted and—” She stops talking with her hand outstretched, shaking, and every instinct in my body tells me that the situation is about to get worse.
For all of us.
Next to the drugs, a tiny little blue and purple seahorse lies there like the victim in a massacre. Soft and plush, it gives the entire situation away.
“Ma’am,” I interrupt the silent tension between Blaine and the woman. “Is this your bag?”
The strangled whimper that escapes sounds like she steps on a dog’s tail, rather than tries to answer my question.
And then Blaine’s words knock me on my ass. “It’s mine.”
I watch the woman’s panic-filled eyes fly up to his and I know my friend is lying.
“Blaine,” I warn him with one word.
He turns to face me with clenched teeth and the same determination he had on his face when he bought the damned roller rink from his father. “I said it’s mine.”
“Fuck.” The curse slips out.
I really need to work on being professional, at least in uniform. Or, I would have, if this wasn’t my last day on the job.
“Don’t do this,” I tell him, looking between the two of them with a knowing look. “Do not do this.” I speak slower. “This isn’t noble. It’s fuckin’ stupid.”
But Blaine’s jaw is set. “It’s done.” His eyes flash, and I know I can’t talk him out of it. But I have to try, at the very least.
“I don’t have a choice here.” My voice comes out as a hiss. “Do you get that? With your record, we’re talking at least a Class C felony.” The facts rattle out of my brain like I’ve read them out of a book, but I have to do something. I have to get it through his thick skull that no one is worth going to prison over.
My hands are tied, and he knows it. Someone has to go to jail. Not only is there drug paraphernalia, but actual drugs, all bagged out and ready to be sold. Possibly to some of the kids hanging out in the very roller rink we are standing in.
Blaine’s only response is a single nod. Just like always, he takes the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I’m not in a position where I can help him. Not anymore.
I am literally working my last shift as a cop. My hands are tied.
“Josh, just do me a favor and don’t cuff me in front of the kids. It’ll scare them.”
We already have more eyes on us than we need. Already have more fuel to add to a fire that doesn’t need to go off.
Never planning to put him in cuffs, I shake my head. “Shit.” Of course I’ll give him that. Hell, if I had my choice, I wouldn’t even be arresting him when I can see clear as day that the black backpack belongs to the brunette he is currently obsessed with enough to go down for her crime.
“Blaine,” the woman whispers, crying.