Miles To Go

Chapter Thirty-Nine

It was a rainy day in April when Emma found herself over an hour late, running as fast as she could into the station, her flannel button down shirt barely buttoned and the white tank top she wore underneath still visible, her hair still wet and not just from the rain.

"Graham, I am so sorry I am late," she said as she rushed towards his office and before she could say anything more, she found the seat behind the desk empty. "Graham?"

"You're over an hour late, Swan," he said from inside one of the cells, the door open and a mop in his hand, one that he thrust towards her. "You'll clean the cells today and then you can mop the front hallway when you're done. Consider it your punishment."

"Punishment accepted," Emma smiled and she grimaced at the unmistakable smell of vomit coming from the next cell, her eyes not daring to look over there yet. She knew for a fact that Leroy had been in there last night, the cell doubling as a drunk tank so he could just sleep it off. "I'm really sorry though, for being late, Graham."

"You're never late, not this late anyway, but I'm still going to have to take an hour off of your pay this time," he said and upon her nod, he exited the cell and headed over to his office. He left the door open and kept watch on Emma as she got to mopping the cell floor.

Normally, it was Leroy who cleaned the station, but on nights he was locked up in the cell, beyond hammered and sleeping it off, he usually went home in the morning to sleep his hangover off. That meant it was either Graham or herself mopping or doing whatever cleaning that was scheduled for that day. Just because Emma was working there now didn't stop Regina from doing unexpected inspections on the state of cleanliness at the station.

Since it was Tuesday, Ruby's day off, the dispatch desk was empty and it was left up to either herself or Graham to answer the calls coming in. So far, in her time since she arrived at the station, the phone hadn't rang once, but then again it was still early enough in the day that Mrs. Mays likely hadn't found something to complain about yet.

An hour later and the floors freshly mopped, Emma put the mop and bucket in the janitor's closet and headed back to her desk. She barely sat down before the phone rang and she answered it quickly.

"Sheriff's station, Deputy Swan speaking," she said as cheerfully as she could muster.

"Deputy, I need yourself or the Sheriff to respond immediately. A boy is tagging the wall!"

Granny. She knew that voice anywhere. "I'll be right there, Granny, but can you give me a quick description in case—"

"It's that boy Peter again."

Emma sighed, rolling her eyes. She had dealt with Peter too many times, an orphaned teenage boy, barely sixteen and had a record longer than his arm. All misdemeanours, mostly vandalism and trespassing charges.

"What was the call?" Graham asked as Emma slipped on her red jacket and reached for the rain slicker that hung on the wall near the entranceway.

"Peter is tagging at Granny's. I'll go and deal with this little punk. Again."

"Bring him in if he runs this time. If he doesn't—"

"I'll write him a ticket unless he agrees to remove whatever he just tagged immediately, I know. I got this, Graham."

Emma made it to Granny's in record time, the lights on the cruiser flashing, the siren not necessary for this call. Even though the rain was coming down hard, Peter stood at the side of Granny's Diner, spray can in hand. She slipped out of the cruiser quickly, knowing to expect just about anything when it came to the slippery teenager.