Calamity Jayne Goes to College by Kathleen Bacus

Author:Kathleen Bacus
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Dorchester Publishing Co.
Published: 2008-07-27T21:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

It was after four when Patrick and I walked out of the security office. I was beyond tired. If I didn't get at least a couple of hours' sleep, I'd have to have someone tie me to my chair to keep me upright during class.

We walked across the parking lot to the cars.

"Long day," Patrick said, not bothering to hide his yawn.

I nodded, my own mouth gaping like crazy.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be driving as tired as you are, Tressa," Patrick said. "I've investigated a good number of accidents resulting from folks falling asleep at the wheel."

I yawned again. "Not to worry, Officer," I said. "I won't be driving far. I've got a class at eight, so I'm just gonna sack out in the backseat of my car. I'll sleep like a baby," I assured him.

He scratched his chin. I noticed the day's growth of beard. It made him look rugged and down-home good.

"I've got an idea," he said. "I don't live far from here. Why don't you follow me home and you can grab a quick shower and a few winks at my place before you have to be back?" he said.

I blinked, looking carefully at his face to see if I could detect a wink, grin, eyebrow roll, or leer that would suggest undertones of a sexual nature. Frankly, all he looked was beat.

"If you're worried I'll jump your bones, let me remind you that I've been working for going on fifteen hours straight and on about three hours of sleep. All I want is a hot shower and a soft bed."

"If you can't trust Smokey Bear, who can you trust?" I agreed with another loud yawn. "So, lead on, Super Trooper Dawkins."

He wasn't too tired to summon a grin. "Ten-four," he said. "And if you get sleepy while you're driving, just roll your window down, stick your head out, and let the wind smack you in the face. Works for me on the hoot owl shift every time," he said.

I nodded. "Oh? So that story about troopers driving around behind the weigh stations to sleep isn't true?" I asked.

Dawkins gave me a look. "I'm pleading the Fifth," he said.

I think that's what they call a "cop" out.

I followed Patrick to his home, which was in a suburb north of Des Moines. What had started as a bedroom community twenty years ago had grown larger and thrived.

He pulled onto a street in the older section of town and into a neighborhood that featured nice older homes and wonderful, big trees. He drove into the driveway of a charming bungalow with a small bricked front porch and two-car detached garage. He moved the patrol car into the garage and I pulled into the driveway behind him, turned the car off, and laid my head back on the seat.

"Come on, young lady," Dawkins said, reaching out to yank hard on my driver side door and wrench it open. He tugged gently on my arm.

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