Fort Freak

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LEO BRACED THE PHONE against his ear with his shoulder while he rubbed at his eyes and groaned. He muttered, “Jesus Christ, not another one.”

“Another what?” asked the woman on the other end of the line. When he didn’t reply fast enough, she demanded again, “Another what, Dad?”

“Another streaker. Tinkerbill’s bringing her in.”

The unclothed party in question was pretty, blond, and in her twenties. She was also glowing with a fizzy pink aura, but the aura couldn’t be construed as clothing, and anyway, the sparkles had been Bill Chen’s contribution. They’d wear off by morning. Probably.

Leo dropped the receiver away from his mouth and hollered past it, “Somebody get that kid a shirt or something!”

Bill blindly grabbed a squad jacket off a coatrack as he ushered the protesting prisoner toward booking. He threw it over her shoulders but she almost shook it off when she turned around to tell him, “You’re making a mistake! I … I didn’t just grab my keys and leave the house like this, you have to believe me!”

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