No. He couldn’t go home.
Fox exited the elevator with his head lowered and his eyes forward. The graveyard shift was used to seeing him there at all hours, but they weren’t surprised at his detached attitude tonight as people hastily got out of his way. He didn’t want to chat with anyone since he was sure word had spread by now that he’d fucked up, again. He continued to get the department negative press no matter how hard he tried.
To avoid the news cameras camped out front of the station, Fox decided to leave the precinct through the inmate processing tank. He was walking past the bullpen with determined strides when he heard Hart’s voice near God and Day’s task force office. It only took him a couple of seconds to recognize the older man his captain was speaking to. Fox thought Hart had gone, but he was standing with Free in front of Officer Mason’s desk—a beat officer who’d become close friends with members of the SWAT team and the narcotics detectives as well.
“Walker, Sr.,” Hart greeted in a jovial tone and stuck out his hand for him to shake. “Nothing but trouble would bring you out this time of night. What’s going on?”
“I saw you guys on the news this evening and figured one of ya might still be around,” Walker answered, sounding exhausted. “I think I need you fellas’ help again. My boy, Dominic, is too proud to ask, but I’m not. Someone came on our property tonight and threw a brick through our living room window.”
“Was anyone hurt?” Hart asked, looking concerned.
“Thank god, we’d already gone up for the night.” Mr. Walker shook his head. “The vandalism is getting worse. My son’s gonna end up doing something stupid soon. His heart and soul is in that ranch, and someone keeps messin’ with it. But we ain’t in Texas anymore. He can’t just jump on his goddamn horse and handle it his way.”
Fox had already rerouted his steps at the sound of desperation in Mr. Walker’s voice and at the mention of his son, Dominic. Or as Fox knew him, Bull. The large cowboy hadn’t been far from Fox’s mind ever since he’d visited the man’s ranch a few months ago. They’d had some powerful chemistry that might’ve frightened them both, but Fox had been relentless. He hadn’t stopped until he’d gotten Bull to agree to give him riding lessons, but like always, he’d had to cancel those plans. Work always took precedence over his happiness.
“I am really glad no one was hurt, Mr. Walker,” Free said in his slight British accent. “I will check your security system and see what I can find, but with all the storms we have been getting lately, it might have caused some damage to the cameras.”
“How do I help my boy, now?”
The need in Walker Sr’s tone called to Fox like a beacon in the night until the next thing he knew, he was standing behind Officer Mason’s desk, listening as Mason documented the complaint. Hart was rubbing his hand over his shiny, bald head as he seemed to contemplate what they could do outside of their jurisdiction. And without even having all of the information, Fox was quick to volunteer his—now—free time.
“Let me go,” he said with confidence. They all turned and stared at him with bewildered expressions, especially his captain. “Come on, Hart. It’ll take me no time to find whoever the hell is doing this.”
Hart stared at him for a long moment, probably reading his intentions like a noir novel since he’d witnessed Fox’s attraction to Walker’s son when he’d visited the ranch. “It’d make more sense for me to call the sheriff’s department in that county.”
“I don’t think Walker would’ve come to us if his sheriff could help him.” Fox ran his hand through his hair as he thought fast. He turned to his best friend and murmured for only him to hear, “Come on, man. Let me do this. I can’t go home, and you know it.”
Hart crossed his thick arms over his chest that was stretching his T-shirt thin. It seemed to take forever before he rumbled his answer. “You take a look only. See what you can dig up… and that’s all you do, Fox. Report what you find to the sheriff’s department in Walker’s county and let them make the arrest,” Hart ordered. “No showing off. I mean it.”
Fox grinned slyly, his spirits already lifting. Hmm. A destruction of property investigation. He could do that with his eyes half-closed. Sure, it wasn’t apprehending fugitives or taking down crime lords with his team, but at least he’d have some reason to get up each morning. “Right, right. I got it. You can trust me. I’ll be in and out,” Fox whispered close to Hart’s ear. “Of the county, I mean… not the farmer’s son.”