Chapter 79: Fore

Miss Harper got Jake and Alex changed and tucked into bed while Jordan carried Tyler upstairs. As he placed him in the crib, Tyler yawned and snuggled under the blankets. Then, in his baby voice, he asked, “Jordy, will you read me a story?”

Jordan smirked and sat down beside the crib. “Alright, squirt. How about The Three Little Pigs?”

Tyler nodded eagerly. Jordan grabbed the book, but as he started reading, he added a special twist—replacing the pigs’ names with Jake, Alex, and Tyler.

“And then, the Big Bad Wolf—who kinda reminds me of Frank—huffed and puffed but couldn’t blow down Tyler’s house, ‘cause Tyler’s too smart for that,” Jordan narrated with a grin.

Tyler giggled, his eyes growing heavier with each passing sentence. Before Jordan even reached the end, Tyler had curled up against him and dozed off.

By the time Jordan carefully tucked Tyler in and left the room, Jake and Alex were already fast asleep as well.

Downstairs, Mrs. Faulkner, Miss Harper, and Jordan sat on the couch watching TV, finally enjoying a peaceful moment. But outside, trouble was brewing.

Frank’s phone buzzed, and his contact’s voice came through. “Listen, I did a little more research on that family. You might want to let this one go.”

Frank scoffed. “Why the hell would I do that?”

“Because these guys were involved in that Lyle case a while back. You really don’t want to mess with them.”

Frank gritted his teeth and slammed his phone shut. “I can handle myself.”

Determined, he stepped out of his car and stalked toward the Faulkner house. With practiced hands, he pulled out a set of lockpicking tools and started working on the front door.

Inside, Mrs. Faulkner perked up, hearing the subtle click-clack of the lock being tampered with. She peeked through the blinds and felt her blood boil. That’s it. I’ve had enough of this guy.

Without a word, she slipped away to her bedroom. She opened her closet, her fingers brushing against the cold steel of one of her late husband’s prized golf clubs—a 9-iron.

She gripped it tightly, steeling herself.

Meanwhile, across the street, Singer sat in his car, keeping an eye on the house. The moment he spotted Frank at the door, he cursed under his breath and moved to intervene. But before he could, another figure caught his eye.

Mrs. Faulkner, creeping up behind Frank, club raised.

Singer smirked. Oh, this is gonna be good.

Frank, still fiddling with the lock, barely had time to react when he heard Mrs. Faulkner’s voice right behind him.

“Fore!”

Before Frank could turn, the 9-iron came down hard, smashing into the back of his left knee.

Frank let out a strangled yell, crumpling onto the porch, clutching his leg.

Singer finally stepped forward, shaking his head with an amused grin. “Well, damn. Remind me never to break into your house, Mrs. Faulkner.”

Mrs. Faulkner planted the club on the ground like a walking stick, looking down at Frank’s writhing form. “You really should’ve let this one go.”

Singer pulled out his handcuffs, shaking his head. “Frank Miller, you’re under arrest for harassment, stalking, vandalism, entrapment, two counts of attempted assault on a minor, and lying to the police.”

As he grabbed Frank’s arm to pull him up, Frank let out a howl of pain. “Ahh! My leg! That crazy woman busted my knee!”

Mrs. Faulkner smirked, resting the 9-iron on her shoulder. “Oh, honey, if I busted it, you wouldn’t be screaming—you’d be unconscious.”

Singer rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, cry about it all you want, Frank. Maybe you should’ve thought about that before breaking into someone’s house.” He tugged Frank’s arms behind his back, snapping the cuffs in place. “Now, let’s go.”

Frank groaned as Singer hauled him toward the squad car. Miss Harper stepped out onto the porch, crossing her arms. “What’s the matter, Frank? Thought you could intimidate a bunch of kids and a nanny, but one angry mom takes you down with a golf club?”

Frank shot her a glare, but the pain in his leg made it hard for him to muster up anything more than a grimace. “This isn’t over,” he spat.

Singer chuckled. “Oh, buddy, I think it is. And you’ve got a nice, long stay in county lockup ahead of you to think about it.”

As Singer shoved Frank into the back of the car, Jake and Alex peeked through the upstairs window, having been woken up by the commotion.

Jake turned to Alex, eyes wide. “Did… did Mom just golf club that guy?”

Alex nodded slowly. “I think she did.”

From his crib, Tyler murmured sleepily, “Go, Mama…” before drifting back off to sleep.

Mrs. Faulkner watched as Singer drove away, letting out a long breath. Miss Harper placed a hand on her shoulder. “That was… something.”

Mrs. Faulkner chuckled, giving the club a small twirl before heading back inside. “Next time, I’ll use a driver.”

An hour later, Singer dragged Frank into the police station, the man limping heavily from his injured leg. As they entered, one of the officers at the front desk looked up and frowned.

“Hey… isn’t this the guy who got his ass handed to him in that Walmart incident?”

Singer smirked. “Yep. Thought he could take matters into his own hands. Turns out he learned the hard way that breaking into houses isn’t a great idea.” He gave Frank a small shove forward, making him stumble slightly. “So, I think you can go ahead and remove the search for that kid.”

The officer nodded, jotting something down before looking Frank over. “Man, you just don’t know when to quit, do you?”

Frank scowled but said nothing, too focused on his aching knee.

Singer rolled his eyes. “Alright, get comfy, Frank. You’ll be spending some quality time here.” He led him down the hallway to the holding cells, unlocking one and shoving Frank inside. The door clanged shut behind him.

Frank turned around, gripping the bars. “This is crap! You can’t keep me here forever!”

Singer smirked, crossing his arms. “Oh, don’t worry. We won’t have to. With the list of charges you’ve racked up? You’ll be seeing a judge real soon.”

Frank slumped onto the bench, seething in silence as Singer turned away, walking back down the hall.

Justice had finally caught up to Frank Miller.

That's when singers captain walked up to him and said singer can we talk in my office,  singer said sure thing captain Rodgers.

Singer raised an eyebrow as he sat down in Captain Rodgers' office. "You serious, Cap?"

Rodgers leaned back in his chair, nodding. "Dead serious, Singer. I’ve been doing this job for a long time, and I’ve been watching you. You’ve got the instincts, the dedication, and—despite your habit of bending the rules now and then—the right kind of judgment for the job."

Singer smirked. "Bending the rules? Me? Never."

Rodgers chuckled. "Yeah, sure. Look, I’m retiring soon, and I want someone I trust taking over. All you’ve gotta do is pass the captain’s exam, and the position’s yours."

Singer let out a slow whistle, running a hand through his hair. "Damn. That’s a hell of an offer."

Rodgers nodded. "Think about it. You’d be able to run things your way, make real change instead of just reacting to trouble like we always do."

Singer was silent for a moment, then finally nodded. "Alright, I’ll think about it."

Rodgers smiled. "That’s all I ask. But don’t take too long—this train’s leaving the station soon."

Singer stood up, shaking his captain’s hand. As he walked out of the office, he exhaled, his mind racing.

Captain Singer… now that was something to think about.