Don't Call Me Hero Read Online Free PDF Page B

whenever.”
    “Uh, is the Chief available? Or should I call back later?”
    “Oh right,” she laughed. “You’ve got official business to discuss and here I am talking your ear off. Let me go get Larry.”
    I heard her call for her husband, and there was a brief rustling noise as the phone exchanged hands before I heard a man clear his throat. “Larry Hart here.”
    “Hey Chief, it’s Cassidy Miller.”
    “Cassidy!” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I was expecting your call last night. I was about to put an APB out when I didn’t hear from you.”
    “I got in late last night,” I explained. “I didn’t want to bother you at home.”
    “Don’t ever worry about that, Cassidy. You call whenever,” he echoed his wife’s earlier sentiments.
    “I was hoping I could get the keys to my apartment today?” The question made me uncomfortable like I was putting him out even though housing was provided for in my new contract.
    “Of course. My sergeant, David Addams, is on duty today. He should be hanging out at the police station and can give you the keys to the apartment. If no one’s there, call the non-emergency number and he’ll meet up with you at City Hall. I’d do it myself, but Marilyn has me roped into playing Bridge with her and some other couples later today. Stop by City Hall tomorrow morning and we’ll get you officially set up.”
    “Sounds great,” I said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
     
     
    The police station was located in the basement of City Hall. The three-story, cream-city brick building stuck out among the more modest storefronts on Main Street. The primary entrance was locked because it was Sunday, but I found an alternate door that led directly to the police department in an alley between City Hall and the next-door dentist office. Only a small metal sign with an arrow and the word “Police” indicated I’d found the right place.
    My first impression of the police department wasn’t flattering. The air felt heavy like rain had recently flooded the basement or ground water had worked its way up through a storm drain in the concrete floor. There was a peculiar scent to the place like burned coffee and motor oil. It reminded me of being at a car mechanic, not a police station.
    If it weren’t for the small, rectangular windows that dotted the parameter of the walls near the ceiling, no natural light would have reached the sublevel department. Instead, overhead halogen panels ran seamlessly with the drop ceiling and illuminated the space with an unnatural yellow glow.
    I knocked on a frosted glass cutout in an old wooden door, and it noisily swung open.
    A man who looked no older than myself sat behind a reception desk. He wore a dark brown uniform shirt and pressed pants a shade lighter. He leaned back in his chair with his chunky black boots on top of the desk. His high and tight haircut suggested he’d been military once, but I wasn’t ready to swap war stories.
    “Can I help you?”
    “Are you David Addams?”
    “Guilty.”
    His smile was disarming, and when he brought his arms up to cradle the back of his head so he could lean back even farther in the office chair, I noticed he wore no wedding band. A lot of guys left the jewelry at home when they were on duty, but I sensed that this man was probably Embarrass, Minnesota’s most-eligible bachelor.
    “I’m Cassidy Miller.” It struck me how many times I’d had to say my name already just that morning. But this was only the beginning. I was in a new town full of unfamiliar faces. I’d have to introduce myself a hundred times over.
    He dropped his feet off of the desk, and his boots hit the floor with a solid rubber noise. “ You’re Cassidy Miller?”
    I raised an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, why?” His reaction had me feeling self-conscious. I smoothed down the front of my wrinkled T-shirt beneath my leather jacket.
    “I’m sorry.” He shook his head. “When Chief Hart said he’d hired a