Wish Upon A Sunset

Logan To The Rescue

Logan

I drove down Lambert Street, frustration gnawing at me. I had been working on this stalking case for weeks, and despite our best efforts, the guy was still out there. Worse, I was almost certain he'd set his sights on Emma now, and the thought of her in danger made my jaw clench.

Lately, he'd been lying low, avoiding his usual spots. No new 911 calls, no fresh leads - except for the note Emma had received. I'd bet my badge that was from our guy.

I wondered if he'd stopped his wider campaign, but I knew from experience men like him never just "stopped." They were predators, biding their time. In my gut, I knew he would strike again, and Emma might be his next target.

As I drove undercover, the nightlife of the town unfolded around me. People walked the sidewalks, laughing and chatting, oblivious to the darkness lurking beneath the surface. Shops were closed, but the bars were open, and the grocery store bustled with late-night shoppers.

The sound of wheels on the road mixed with the warmth from the heater, created a cocoon that only amplified my worries and frustrations.

My police radio crackled to life, breaking the uneasy silence. "All units, we have a 911 call from 1405 Anderson Street. Caller is Emma Carter. Reports a suspicious vehicle outside her workplace. She's scared to walk out by herself. Any units close to respond?"

My heart skipped a beat. Emma.

Without a second thought, I grabbed the radio. "This is Logan Weston. I'm on Lambert Street. I'll take the call."

I wasn't exactly close, but I didn't care. I needed to be there.

As I sped through town, blowing through a stop sign, my hands clenched the wheel firmly. The thought that it could be the stalker outside her work sent a surge of panic through me, and I pushed the car harder, weaving through traffic with single-minded determination.

My thoughts raced alongside the car. I hadn't realized how much more my feelings for Emma had grown until this moment. Memories of her from the interview and trial flickered through my mind-a time when she had been nothing more than a case I was working. A stranger, despite my doubts over her sentencing.

Spending time with her over the last month, however, had shown me how sweet, kind, funny, and smart she was.

I still couldn't believe how Emma handled that mess at the old factory. When I fell through that rotted floor, I thought I was done for. But she didn't hesitate. She grabbed those cables, looped them around me and that broken down machine, and hauled me out like it was nothing. I was terrified she'd fall in too, or that the cables would snap.

But Emma? She was cool as ice. Never saw that side of her before. Guess I underestimated her. She's tougher than she looks, that's for sure. Makes me wonder what else she was capable of.

At first, I had seen her as broken, someone I needed to protect and fix. But I realized days ago that she didn't need to be "fixed." She needed support to find her own strength.

In a fleeting moment of self-awareness, I considered applying that insight to myself. My mother blamed me for not protecting my brother, and I had carried that reminder like a heavy stone. Maybe I needed to stop trying to "fix" myself and start supporting my own healing process.

Maybe helping her find her strength would help me find mine.

But, for now, I shut down that line of thought, focusing instead on Emma.

As I neared Dr. Bader's office, the familiar landmarks blurred past me-my mind laser-focused on getting to her.

I pulled into the parking lot, my eyes scanning the empty space for any signs of danger, and I gripped my gun tight as I stepped out of the car, every sense on high alert. The chilly breeze nipped at my skin, carrying with it the rustling of trees and a creepy sense of foreboding.