"Maybe, it's not so bad after all?" John pushed open the door, and was greeted by a pair of long, cricket-patterned legs. A voluptuous blonde was sitting astride a stepladder, stringing festive lights onto a ribbon.
"Hey, handsome guys, are you lost?"
The blonde lowered her head to meet Jack's gaze. A flash of surprise and a hint of cunning flashed in her eyes. Suddenly, her feet seemed to give way, and she let out a cry of surprise, falling sideways off the stepladder.
Jack instinctively reached out to catch her, and the warm, soft beauty crept into his arms. He saw a low-cut sweater and a tight leather skirt, revealing a beautiful scene. A cute "Hello Kitty" playfully greeted him.
"I think I should retract my previous complaint. Detroit's welcome is still very warm."
"I thought a handsome guy like you would be a gentleman." The blonde reached out and tugged at the hem of her skirt, hiding the pink "Hello Kitty" while her other hand remained wrapped around Jack's neck.
Her voice was magnetic, a touch raspy, yet smoky.
"I'd have thought a mature woman like you would choose seductive lingerie," Jack grinned, setting her on the ground.
The blonde snorted, lifting her collar. "Am I really that old?"
Her makeup certainly leaned towards the mature side, with fiery red lips and smoky eyes, adding a touch of allure. But judging by her skin, she couldn't have been more than 27 or 28, definitely not over 30.
Jack was nearly stunned by the ripples of emotion her gesture created. He instinctively looked away, looking into the hallway, only to find it empty. He laughed and changed the subject.
"Excuse me, is Chief Ronik here?"
"Who are you? Today is the last day at Precinct 13. There shouldn't be any guests here," the blonde asked, instead of answering.
John, watching the show from the sidelines, handed over a document. "We're from Los Angeles. I'm Officer John Nolan, ordered to provide support. He's a friend of mine, uh."
John was unsure how to introduce Jack's identity. Simply mentioning the FBI seemed inappropriate, as it could easily lead to misunderstandings or unnecessary associations.
"Jack Tawaller, John's friend. I was just returning to New York from Los Angeles, so I stopped by to take a look. I've never been to Detroit before,"
Jack made up an excuse. He did have plans to visit the city, but it seemed impossible today, at least because of the impending snowstorm.
The blonde's beautiful eyes, adorned with black eyeliner, widened. She took the document, quickly glanced over it, and then exclaimed in amazement.
"Oh my god, you're on secondment for a week. You must have offended some big shot. You know, this police station will be closed tomorrow."
"Perhaps. Anyway, the order is for us to report to Precinct 13 first and then assist in closing it down before further arrangements are made."
Although the furnishings in the house were old, the heating was still sufficient. John took off his thick windbreaker, revealing his LAPD uniform. Jack didn't rush to undress, but he did unbutton his windbreaker.
"Okay, at least we're going to have a good time tonight,"
the blonde said, winking at the two of them. She extended her hands to show them the holiday decorations and then made an inviting gesture. "Trust me, we're going to have a lot of fun."
John laughed dryly at this. They still didn't know the man's name, so they could only wave the documents in their hands.
"We're looking forward to it, but where's Sheriff Roenick? I need his signature on this document."
"He just went downstairs to the evidence room with Jasper. I'll get him." The blonde was about to turn around when, as if struck by a thought, she turned and winked at the two men.
"I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Alice."
Jack smiled at John as Alice's graceful figure disappeared down the stairwell. "Looks like I won't have to stay with you for a full week."
When Alice reappeared before Jack and John, she was followed by two uniformed officers: an older man with silver hair and a slightly graying beard, and a young man who looked no more than 30 years old.
"Sheriff Roenick? Happy New Year." John identified the name tags on their chests and offered the younger man his hand.
"Happy New Year, Officer Nolan." The young sheriff shook John's hand warmly. He turned his gaze to Jack, whose windbreaker had fallen open, revealing a white shirt and black suit. A hint of confusion crossed his eyes. "Federal Agent?" Jack,
observing him as well, happened to glance over the tattoo on his wrist, his eyes filled with the same doubt. Although he wasn't familiar with Detroit, he could still discern the subtle differences between gang tattoos and military ones.
"Jack Tavola, FBI, on leave, a former colleague of John's, stopping by to see the 'Motor City.'"
Jack reached out and shook Sheriff Roenicke's hand. The older officer, holding a cardboard box nearby, pulled out a dirty, dusty bottle of whiskey and showed it to Alice with a mysterious look.
"Guess what Roenicke and I found in the evidence room? A bottle of Irish whiskey at least 40 years old, just the right welcome gift for a new friend."
"Isn't this the evidence you hid when you first caught the criminal, Jasper?" Alice teased.
"That's impossible! Civil War-era items were destroyed long ago," grinned veteran officer Jasper, making a self-deprecating remark.
After the greetings were over, the young chief, seemingly out of place in this aging police department nearing its end of life, nodded slightly to John before turning to Jack.
"If Agent Taverer doesn't mind, I still have some good coffee beans left in my upstairs office."
Knowing he wanted to chat privately, Jack smiled back. "Just call me Jack. It's my honor."
Upon hearing his words, the beautiful policewoman Alice seemed to have just discovered something remarkable. "Wow, there are two Jacks here. Looks like we need to give one of them a nickname."
The sheriff and chief, whose full name was Jack Roenicke, coughed, interrupting her wandering thoughts.
"Alice, find Officer Nolan a desk. I don't know why they're sending someone here on the last day, but at least this damn place won't seem so deserted in its final days."
Upon hearing her chief's order, Alice's eyes rolled and her red lips pouted. "Okay, Boss, but although regulations require us to close at midnight, all the emergency calls have been redirected, and the computers and guns have been moved.
So why not close now? We can start the New Year's party early!"
(End of this chapter)