I grew up in River City.

It’s a good place for a kid to grow up—small town enough that I could wander without causing much worry, as long as no one counted my father.

He counted himself, but I stopped a while ago.

But it’s small enough that there’s not enough crime that I couldn’t wander, and big enough that it didn’t bore even me to tears. It was this intoxicatingly perfect mix of small town and big city, where everyone knew everyone and we didn’t have to drive an hour to go to a mall or museum.

And I never wanted to leave it. River City was home. I wandered away for college, and promptly came back, and I loved it—it’s where every good memory I had was, a place I cared about with a ferocity that only a native could. It knew my secrets and my history and it kept both safe.

But right this second, as I stood on Mrs. Rudolph’s front yard in the sideways rain—she was perched on her covered porch with a cup of coffee clasped in her wrinkled hands—I was questioning literally every decision I’d ever made in my life.

“Ma’am, we checked your crawlspace last week.”

“That Harper checked it,” Mrs Rudolph says, dismissive as fuck and I hear a muffled snort behind me. My smile feels brittle as she smiles brightly at me. “But I know you’ll do a good job. You don’t mind, do you, Taite?”

And that’s why.

I love River City with all my heart, but I swear to god, becoming a cop in a city that watched me grow up was probably the worst idea I’d ever had.

And I’d had a long and illustrious career of bad ideas, as Daddy was very helpful to point out.

A choked noise came from behind me and I fixed my plastic smile a little bit wider before saying, “Gimme just one second, Mrs Rudolph, Officer Delgado and I need to talk.”

She nods agreeably and takes a sip of her damnable coffee and I turn to pin my partner with a glare.

Miguel doesn’t even have the good grace to try to hide his smile.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, smile wide and cheerful.

“It’s your turn to go crawling under houses.”

“How do you figure that?” he asks, attempting to school his expression.

“I went up the tree for the Foster girls’ kitten last week!”

“Didn’t Dempsey—”

I snarl and he very wisely shuts his mouth. His eyes are still a little too bright, though, and I kinda want to punch him. I do not stomp my foot. “You promised not to bring him up,” I snap.

“I know,” he gives me apologetic eyes. “I slipped, sorry.”

I glance back at the house, at Mrs Rudolph waiting anxiously.

“I have to go, don’t I?” I say, resigned.

Miguel nudges me with one shoulder. “If you don’t, we’ll be here next week. She’s not gonna believe any of us until you tell her there’s nothing down there.”

“But—”

This. This is the problem. I grew up here, the only daughter of the police chief, a fucking widower and somehow became the town mascot. Even when I want to be taken serious, it’s like all anyone sees is the knobby kneed, ratty haired fourteen year old running the streets with Miguel and getting into trouble.

I huff a curse and shrug out of my waterproofed jacket. The rain immediately starts biting into my uniform and I resign myself to spending the rest of my shift wet and muddy.

Maybe Miguel would let us swing by my apartment to change before we headed back to the station.

“I hate this,” I mutter and he nods.

But he doesn’t quite hide his grin as I drop to my knees and crawl under Mrs Rudolph’s damn house.

“I went to school for this. The fucking Academy. So I could crawl around in the mud looking for—fuck. Miguel, what the fuck am I even looking for?” I shout, my voice muffled.