Police drama, in which, two detectives track down domestic bombers.
“I know ya’ll are familiar with salt peter,” Bomb Disposal Sergeant Floral Sage said. “I’m sure you guys in the class are.” She had a tantalizing Texas accent. Dark eyes flashed mischievousness. “You mix the salt peter, or potassium nitrate. With sulfur and charcoal. The combination of the three gives us a crude form of gunpowder.” Sergeant Sage pointed to a diagram. At the Metro-County Police Academy, her lecture was on homemade bomb devices. She was an expert. “Do enough fine tuning, and you end up with an explosive. Using an appropriate pestle and mortar. Like with most things, too much friction causes and explosive personality to this stuff.” She glanced around the room. The recruits were quiet. They always were, she thought. “No one has a question?” Her lean muscular features, tough presence and strong personality were intimidating. “Maybe we should go do the obstacle course?” Just then, her attention riveted on the academy director. Her concentration was broken. Speaking of friction she thought. Fireworks leaped inside.
“Attention on deck!” The recruit class leader screamed. As she stood to attention, the rest of the class followed. They sounded off with their class motto, something along lines of serving and protecting.
“At ease,” the director said. Stern look, calm and confident. Recruits saw him as a hero. He threw an appreciative glance to Sergeant Flo. His heart jumped. The eye contact lasted longer than a professional greeting. A woman in uniform, he thought. This one in particular. The little voice in his mind screamed, wow, she’s one good looking woman! Short dark red hair, cut close. Well-proportioned, big brown eyes tanned and toned. She could be a recruitment poster for police work. He remembered the time she injured him in a judo match. She was embarrassed, he was impressed. “As you were, ladies and gentleman.”
“Good morning, Director,” Sergeant Flo greeted. A controlled smile held back what she really felt. A slight shoulder shift in his direction. The little voice in her mind yelled, whew, he can light my fuse anytime! Too bad we couldn’t stay married to each other, she thought. Her choice, not his. Yet, she still found Director Ridge Rockwell III very appealing. Good feelings stirred inside her.
“Morning, Sarge,” the director smiled. “Good to see you. Please excuse the interruption.” He was actually looking for an excuse to enter her classroom. He approached the podium with a smooth comfortable presence. Turning to the class, he said with an impressive voice, “Good morning class. My apologies to the Sergeant for the interruption. I wish to review a few updates, pertaining to the training curriculum and state rule changes and the upcoming certification exam.” He finished quickly and turned to Sergeant Sage. A wink and a nod, a faint smirk. His trademark. As he passed by her, he whispered, “May I see you in my office during the break?”
“Yes, sir,” she answered in a crisp manner, standing at attention. Holding back a smile which tried to force itself across her full lips. She was taller than he. But, that didn’t matter to him. She knew he liked tall women. “Would be my pleasure,” she whispered with a breathy tone.
“Mine too,” he whispered back. There was something about women cops, he thought. His mature good looks, sophisticated manner and well-groomed appearance were very attractive qualities. The kind of things that set him apart from other men. They were good together once. Just couldn’t live together.
The quaint little town of Pinecrest in the mountains of Arizona faces its most harrowing challenge yet—a chilling murder that sends shockwaves through the community.
Marcus Lee, Pinecrest's newly appointed police chief, finds himself at the cente
This is your journal, for your writing. An interactive journal with historical tidbits designed to nurture creativity and self-motivation, features one side for drawings, sketches, or pasting personal pictures, and the other side lined for notes or j
