Her Kind Of Hero. Carol Steward

damsels in distress. Filling out paperwork.” Luke collapsed in the brown recliner nearest the door and took off his boots. During the fifty-minute drive down the mountain, his sprained ankle had swelled and stiffened.

      “I thought you were going to use the ski pass I gave you for Christmas today.”

      Luke released the footrest and pushed the chair back. “I did.” After asking his son to bring him an ice bag and something for the pain, Luke told him about the excitement, minus the part where he’d struck out with the damsel. He could have sworn that beneath Calli’s cautious exterior, she was interested.

      When he awoke two hours later the television was blaring. Jon, seemingly oblivious to the racket, surfed the channels until he found a college basketball game. His son tossed a fringed pillow from the sofa at him. “How’re ya doing?”

      Luke stretched, yawning aloud as he folded the chair under him. “Ask me after I shower.” He stood and limped across the room without the pain he’d had earlier. “Your grandma left a casserole in the fridge yesterday. Would you put it in the oven? I’ll be out in a few minutes to finish making dinner.”

      Jon was slow to respond. “It’s not that potpie thing, is it?”

      “Yeah. Why?” Luke placed his hands on his hips and stopped. “You didn’t throw it out, did you?”

      “Not exactly.” His son remained slouched on the sofa, peering at the TV from under the curtain of hair.

      Luke waited for a further explanation. “Well?”

      Jon raked his hand through his long bangs. “I ate it.”

      “You ate the whole thing?” Luke couldn’t believe he bothered to ask such a stupid question. Of course he did. Jon was thirteen. He was supposed to eat them out of house and home.

      “Well, I didn’t know it was supper.”

      “Do me a favor. Don’t tell me how great it was.” Turning back to the kitchen, Luke rummaged through the freezer, hoping to find a replacement. There was none.

      Kneeling in the middle of the kitchen, a pain shot up his leg and into his hip. From the cupboard, he pulled two empty peanut-butter jars and a few nearly empty boxes of crackers. His son was obviously going through a growing spurt. Jon only needed another six inches to reach Luke’s height of six foot three, but the way the boy was eating, that would take less than a couple of months.

      Luke settled for an overripe banana on the way to the shower. Between bites, he told Jon to clean up so they could grab dinner on the way to the grocery store.

      After showering, Luke and Jon ate, then went to buy groceries. Luke bought double what he figured they needed, hoping there’d be a few crumbs left for his own meals after Jon finished eating.

      Halfway through the store Luke found himself thinking of Calli. She’d mentioned that she’d almost completed her teaching degree, but was working at one of the downtown grocery store chains. He paid special attention to the employees as he browsed, certain that she also said she usually worked evenings. When he didn’t see her, he made a note to start shopping in the evenings so he could run into her. A few phone calls should turn up a “Calli” at one of them. It’s not that common a name.

      As they were driving home, Jon was unusually quiet. They discussed another Nuggets loss and their tickets to the upcoming Avalanche game against the Red Wings. All the while, Jon barely uttered two words that wasn’t an answer to a direct question. It was twice as tough to keep the conversation going, when all Luke could think about was the gorgeous woman he’d spent two hours trying to charm, only to be ignored when he asked if he could call her sometime. Before he had a chance to ask any more questions, Calli had slipped back into her cautious camouflage and politely excused herself. He drove home, replaying their conversation, trying to figure exactly what they’d been talking about when he’d blown it.

      “Dad…did you hear me?”

      “I was thinking of something else. Sorry. What did you say?”

      “Nate wants me to stay with him Friday night. He’s kind of bummed since his dad left. Can I go?”

      “Friday, as in tomorrow?”

      “Yeah. I know we were going to the hockey game, but… Well, it’s important.”

      Nate lived upstairs, and the two had been friends since preschool. Only a few months earlier, Nate’s dad had left his mother for another woman. The family was devastated. Especially Nate.

      Luke thought of Friday’s Avalanche game and how long they’d waited for these tickets. “Sure. Go ahead. Nate’s more important right now.”

      “Really? Thanks, Dad. You’re all right.”

      Hang on to that thought. It won’t last long. Luke stuffed the disappointment away. He wasn’t ready for his son to choose friends over him. Yet here it was. They unloaded the groceries, Jon finished his homework, then went to bed as Luke got ready for a night at the station. With his leg hurting like this, he knew he wouldn’t be able to handle full duty.

      Mrs. Maloney knocked quietly and came in.

      “Hi, Marge. Jon has finished his homework and is already in bed. I should be home early tonight.” He limped to the table and loaded his notes in his briefcase. Motioning to his foot, Luke offered an explanation. “Officially I’m off until I see a doctor, but I need to catch up on some paperwork. Shouldn’t take more than a few hours.”

      “That’s fine, Luke. I’ll just watch the late shows.”

      “Feel free to go to bed. I can wake you when I get home.”

      He went to tell Jon good-night, but the room was dark and silent. Luke closed the door, remembering when Jon was a baby and his mother had just walked out on them. Jon had gone to child care when Luke worked the day shift, and had gone to Luke’s parents at night. It became more difficult as Jon got older. Luke and Jon had argued about the neighbor coming to “baby-sit,” but in the end, his son didn’t give either of them any problems. It was a teenager’s obligation to argue, but inside, Luke suspected his son was as relieved as he was that their favorite neighbor was here.

      The command sergeant watched Luke try to walk without a limp. “Face it, Northrup, you’re going to be at the front window for a month with that bum leg.”

      “Not a chance. A week, maybe two at the most. I’ll do anything, Sarge, but not the front.”

      The front window was known as the department “Miracle Cure,” known to heal any ailment twice as quickly when an officer was assigned there. Unlike dispatch’s duties, working the front meant answering the phone, dealing with stupid questions, handling complaints due to “cold calls” that were filed at the bottom of the priority list.

      The sergeant tossed a file on his desk. “For now, see if Angel and Dunn need help with their case.”

      Luke reviewed the file, looking for anything to tie a white 4 Runner to the case. They too needed their witness to come forward. Angel had asked Luke to listen to the tapes to confirm that it was the anonymous caller.

      Luke pressed Play and again listened to the female caller on previous 911 tapes, including the calls from the night of the auto prowls two weeks ago.

      He compared the voices one more time.

      Tom shrugged. “You must know this by heart, Luke. Let it go. She’ll call again soon.”

      Her voice was soft. “Is she whispering, or scared to death?” Luke asked Tom. Sirens wailed and Luke held up a hand, quieting his partner. There was a gasp, a rattle, then a clunk, like the receiver had fallen. The voice was quiet, but urgent. “Turn it up. She said something.”

      Tom rewound the recording and pushed Play and raised the volume. The transcription was full of static. “Come on. Start.” He heard more static. Then, “Too close. Get out of here.” Static and her voice saying, “Phone?” The line