5PM by Chris Heinicke

Author:Chris Heinicke [Heinicke, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781310143083
Amazon: B00THX7SKG
Goodreads: 24909337
Publisher: Createspace
Published: 2015-02-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

“This is where I live. You’ll be safe here.” She parks her own car out the front of a block of units.

We’re on a street full of apartments, condominiums, and townhouses. It’s not a low-income section of suburbia, but an area more common to the habitation of middle-income property renters. The owners of the properties in this area generally reside in the richer parts of the city, investing here to boost their wealth portfolio.

“Which one?” I ask, hoping it’s the ground floor unit just in case.

“Number 2. The one with the red door.”

She locks her car and walks to the front entry door, a colour similar to blood helping it to stand out against the rest. I follow her, and curious thoughts swim through my mind about what the inside of a female cop’s house looks.

“Please, close the door behind you,” she says. A few steps behind, I’m pointed to a lounge room containing little more than a couch and a TV sitting on a short wooden cabinet. There’s a pleasant smell in the air, almost like the carpets have been shampooed recently. Her footsteps fade away, and I hear a door open and close.

These clothes, which were lent to me, aren’t a great fit. The jeans are a little loose around my waist and the long-sleeved shirt strangles my arms and chest a little. Going commando in jeans is never a nice feeling. I don’t know what it is, but I’ve never liked denim directly on my men parts. My eyes do a quick tour of this room, looking for mementos or photo frames or any artefacts to shine light on the woman in the uniform. Next to the TV is a picture of her with an old couple, who I assume are her parents, in what looks like her police academy graduation photo.

In the corner of the room is a sealed cardboard box with a trophy sitting upon it and a digital clock on a small table to the right of the two-seater couch. Maybe life in the police force occupies so much of her life she has little opportunity to personify her surroundings.

“Would you like a drink, Terry?” she yells from the end of the hallway. “I’m officially off duty and am hanging for a beer.”

Off duty at one p.m.? She must have started work early today. I do feel for shift workers and the crappy hours they have to keep at times. “Beer sounds great,” I call back.

I hear the sound of bare feet connecting with creaky floorboards making their way to a room closer to where I’m seated. A refrigerator door opens, and I hear glass rattling and a few seconds later, Hannah is standing in the doorway of the lounge room, a beer bottle in each hand.

But it’s not the beers I notice. It’s her wearing a long T-shirt that comes halfway down to the knees of her bare legs. The top part has tank top like sleeves if you can even call them sleeves, and they hang half way down the sides of her athletically toned torso.

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