This is a re-write of my first story, "A Demon, an Angel and a Baby." That story got a decent reception, but I wasn't happy with it and the comments bore out my concerns.
The plot here is very similar although some of the names have changed and the occult references have been removed. There is a lot more back-story and a lot more detail. Hopefully, it's a better story all the way around.
Please give it a read and let me know what you think.
BTW: This will be my last law enforcement related story for a while. I'll be moving into the fantasy world in the next one.
Rogue
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I'm Dean Grey. Pretty much an average guy, although I do have a better than average life. I'm a police officer with the Hamilton County PD. The county is a nice place to live, and the PD is a good place to work.
The City of Hamilton is the County Seat. It's not a big city, but it sits on Hamilton Bay, named for the guy who discovered it back when dinosaurs still ruled the Earth, so it's a tourist trap. A few museums and clubs, some theaters leaning toward country music, and the Bay. That draws them in droves; deep-sea fishing outside the Bay, scuba diving near the reef, sailing, water-skiing, you name it. We have a Double-A baseball team affiliated with the Baltimore Orioles and Pittsburgh Pirates. Hamilton State University plays basketball and Division II football. They went to a bowl game last year. Got beat, but at least they got invited. We used to have a minor league hockey team, but attendance wasn't good so they merged with a team in Virginia.
Most of the tourists are good people, although we get the usual assortment of rowdies and habitual drunks. The Coast Guard handles the Bay, and they only rarely ask for assistance. Problem is, during the warm weather months, Hamilton swells to big-city population numbers, and that means big-city crime. Gambling, drugs, prostitution, they all turn up. For the most part, we turn a blind eye to it, unless it spills over and bothers the 'good' folks. Then we come in.
The County has both a Police Department and a Sheriff's Office. The PD handles most of the patrol work. The SO handles the jail, serving warrants, drug enforcement, traffic enforcement and most of the miscellaneous details that pop up. The PD needs help occasionally, and they're not the least bit afraid to provide it. That works both ways. The two departments work well together.
I was raised in a family of athletes. Dad played minor league baseball in the Cincinnati Reds organization. He was a catcher. Never got past AA, though. They had some guy named Bench at the time. Oh, well... My brother played high school football, outside linebacker. He was good, but he didn't have the grades for college. Nobody offered him a scholarship, so he joined the Marines.
I guess when the Good Lord was handing out talent, I was on the disabled list. Don't get me wrong, now, I could hold my own, but nobody ever picked me first. So, when I joined the PD, I was happy that one of the guys invited me to play on the County's fast pitch softball team. It was co-ed, so it was a lot of fun. I ended up as the starting second baseman.
We were at my first team practice when I got fed another piece of humble pie. It was my turn for batting practice, so I stepped up to the plate. I'm a switch-hitter. I decided to bat right-handed, as the pitcher was a little blonde throwing leftie. I watched three pitches go past me, turned around and looked at the catcher.
"Who the hell is she?" I asked.
He just laughed. "That, my friend, is Micah Thornton. She's a detective with the SO. Don't worry, she's just showing off. Next time you come up, she'll go easy on you."
"I take it she's our starting pitcher?"
"Oh, yeah," he grinned. "Couldn't hit her way out of a wet paper bag, but she doesn't need to. Nobody can hit her, either."
I swung at three more pitches. Did manage to foul one of them off; one of them. My bat went up on my shoulder and I walked back to the bench. A couple of the guys were just laughing.
"Micah got you, too, huh?" grinned Dave Bradford, one of my colleagues, the team's shortstop. "She does that to all the newbies. Little smart ass."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Next time, I'll let her embarrass me left-handed."
We sat and watched her pitch, talking about pretty much nothing. Finally, I offered an unfortunate comment. "You know, she is kind of cute."
Dave turned on me like I'd lost my mind. "Cute? You can't be serious. She's skinny as a rail."
I just shook my head. "C'mon, Dave. They can't all be built like Dolly Parton."
"You gotta be kidding. Thornton would lose a wet t-shirt contest to a broomstick."
"Geez, man," I laughed. "Get your mind out of the gutter."
"Can't," he confessed. "I'm afraid of heights."
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Every six months or so, the County holds a dance for its employees. Civilians, PD, SO, the Fire Department and our three Ambulance Services all take part. The folks who don't want to attend usually volunteer to replace the people on duty who do want to go. Works out pretty well.
I'm not a Ladies' Man, but I've never had trouble getting dates if I wanted one. Women seem to like me, and I've always shown them respect, which helps a lot. I was at the dance, mixing with the rest of the crew. A few dances, a few drinks, a lot of just talking and watching. I saw Micah sitting in the far corner, talking to several others. I watched her for a bit and noticed she wasn't dancing. Being the 'gentleman' that I always tried to be, I went over and asked if she would like to dance. She looked at me, smiled, and offered her hand.
As we walked toward the dance floor, I admitted that I didn't know how to dance and asked if she did.
She looked up at me and grinned. "You've heard of people being born with two left feet, right?"
I nodded.
"Well, I was born with four."
That started me laughing. "What do you think the odds are that he's going to play a waltz?"
"About the same as anyone other than you asking me to dance."
The DJ had just started a slow ballad, so I got to hold her. She didn't seem to mind.
"Why would you say that?" I asked, a bit surprised by her comment. "It can't be that bad."
"Dean," she replied, snuggling a little deeper into my arms, "I'll give you two reasons for that. One, I'm not pretty. I know that. Two, I'm not easy. Doesn't make you real popular in this line of work."
That got a grimace from me. I knew exactly what she was talking about, and it was embarrassing. She was right; a lot of guys in law enforcement had the idea that a woman with a badge was either a lesbian or on the make. Some probably were, but it was still a brutal stereotype. I hated it. Didn't say much for us as a profession.
"I'm sorry, Micah. Please don't take this wrong, but I think you're pretty, and I don't expect anything more from you tonight than a dance or two. Is that alright?"
She smiled again and just shook her head. "Keep talking. I'm listening."
I sighed. "Well, at least you get to dance tonight, if you want to."
She stopped moving and let go of me. I thought she was going to turn around and walk away. Then she stepped back into my arms. "I think," she revealed, "I just found my dance partner for the rest of the night."
We did spend the remainder of the evening together. During one dance, I saw one of her girlfriends give her a thumbs-up. She chuckled and returned it. Apparently, she was pretty happy. Made me feel good. I saw Dave looking at us once. He just grinned and shook his head.
Toward the end of the night, I sat down with Micah and asked if it would be alright for me to ask her out at some point. She reached into her wallet, came up with a business card, turned it over and starting writing. When she finished, the card was presented to me.
"That's my cell number," she told me. "Now you don't have an excuse not to call me." She gave me a kiss on the cheek, and our evening was over.
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Micah and I started dating the next week. It was hard to find times that we were both off duty but, when it did happen, we were usually together. Nothing fancy; dinner, maybe a movie, a concert (the city hosted free concerts for the tourists and citizens) or just a walk on the beach. It was quiet, laid-back and a lot of fun.
After a couple of months, we started visiting each other's apartments to watch TV or movies together. We'd order Chinese, get a bucket of fried chicken or pick up a pizza. Never asked her to cook, except maybe to microwave some popcorn. She surprised me one evening with a lasagna. I hadn't suspected it, but she could cook. Boy, could she cook. Didn't want to make her do it too often, though. Plus, if I'd been eating her cooking, I'd have looked like a blimp. Yeah, she was that good.
We cuddled on the sofas, but things never got intimate. We were so comfortable with each other it just didn't seem necessary. I'm not sure either of us expected it to develop into a romance, but it did.
She was at my place and we were watching an old sci-fi movie, a favorite of mine. It wasn't gory or anything like that, but it had a couple of what they called jump scares. Weren't many, but the ones that were in there were effective.
One of the more intense ones did scare her, and she did jump. I wrapped my arms around her and chuckled, "Don't worry, baby. I won't let it get you."
She gave me an unimpressed smirk. "My hero," she scoffed, "as if I need one." Nonetheless, she reached up to kiss me.
I doubt that she meant it as more than a fleer, an affectionate brushing of the lips. But, for some reason, she didn't pull back. As our kiss lingered, mine morphed from affectionate to aggressive to passionate. When I realized what was happening, I drew back, looking down, a little ashamed of myself. "I'm sorry, Micah. I shouldn't have done that."
She sat up, then stood up. As she did so, I started mentally berating myself. 'That was really brilliant, genius. You just blew this evening to hell.'
