The roses were dead, and if I didn't watch my back I would be too.

I opened the red envelope someone left on my police cruiser windshield this morning and glared at the card of a squirrel holding a heart. It had I'm nuts about you printed across the top. I flipped it open to read the god-awful handwriting from some nut job who claimed to be my secret admirer.

Chewing on my cream cheese danish, I looked up at the old fella who tended to wait on me at my favorite diner. Harlan had more wrinkles than I could count, and he had a few bald patches in his shaggy gray hair. He was a retired cop who worked at his daughter's diner to keep the Black Vipers gang off her back. Harlan didn't let those bastards threaten his little girl or start fights in their family oriented restaurant. He kept his Smith and Wesson .22 Magnum concealed under his brown apron, loaded and ready to defend his family and customers.

I ate there every morning. Nowhere else in New Syracuse had coffee like theirs. I just wish they didn't go so fucking overboard with the Valentine decorations. As if I wanted to eat my breakfast with Cupid's ass in my face. I even considered popping the heart-shaped balloon on my table.

"Is everything to your liking today, detective Lindel? Can I get you anything else?" Harlan asked.

"Perfect as always," I told him. "You think I could get another one of these danishes?"

"Of course."

As he stepped around back to get my order, an irritable mother struggled to get her wailing kid out the door. Little shit had more balls than I did at that age, and the poor woman had more patience than my own mother. If my brothers or I had pulled a stunt like that, she would have whooped our asses in front of everyone in the diner. But apparently discipline had become a form of abuse. No wonder the snot-nosed brats acted out like that.

I became a police officer in hopes of making our home safer and less screwed up than it already was. It was also because of a certain officer who helped me when I was seven years old and got lost in K-mart. There I was, wearing my favorite Dinosaur t-shirt, wandering around the department store looking all over for my momma. I stopped to look at some toy and got split up from her and my brothers.

To be fair, keeping up with triplets was stressful. I was surprised she didn't lose one of us more often.

Somehow, I ended up in the men's underwear section. I got scared and started crying since I thought she abandoned me there. While bawling my eyes out, a nice police officer came up to me and helped me find my family. I'd never forget the mortified expression my dear mother showed when I happily hugged the officer and referred to him as daddy.

Fast forward a few years later, and that nice cop ended up becoming my sergeant. Talk about an awkward situation, but Davidson had a good sense of humor. Every now and then he teased me for that day, but what he didn't know back then was that I grew up without a father. To this day, I've never met him and I never planned to.

Harlan slid the danish over to me. "You have any plans for Valentine's day?"

"On duty," I replied. "Love makes people do crazy shit."

"Tell me about it. Fucking holidays are the worst." He poured me another cup of coffee, noticing the stupid card. "Whatcha got there? A love letter?"

"Yeah. It's probably from some lunatic addict," I muttered. "Or, maybe it's just one of the guys pulling some prank."

"When I was your age, I had the ladies swooning too. They love a man in uniform, you know?" he said.

I crumbled up the Valentine card and shoved it down in my pocket. "I'm sure you did."

People like us weren't meant for cozy lives. Yet, I still found myself wondering more and more about the future lately. I had a certain beautiful little blonde to blame that for. God, I would move mountains for Everly Larson. She didn't understand how dangerous New Syracuse had become. She didn't understand how many people had put targets on her back. I played nice with the Black Vipers so I knew what they were up to. I always knew when they would try to attack Everly and would do anything to put a stop to it. I didn't mind bending some laws to keep her safe.

After finishing my breakfast, I prepared for the tiring day I had ahead. Gut instinct told me something bad was coming. I could smell it in the air like right before it rained.

Harlan smiled at me. "Have a nice day, Adam. Keep our town safe."

I rose from my seat. "I'll try. You have a good one too."

Only twenty minutes in on the job, and I got sent out to a concerned call about a trailer that caught on fire. It connected to a strand of arson-homicides we'd been investigating. What a way to kick off the day. My partner sat in the passenger seat like an excited child on his way to Disney World. I knew Chris Bailey wouldn't last on the force much longer, but babysitting him hadn't been optional. I was stuck with the freckle-face until he quit. He'd already made it a little over a year now, surprisingly.

The trailer in question belonged in the roughest part of New Syracuse; an old trailer park called Swan Lake, but most everyone referred to it as Swamp Lake. It was beyond me why they didn't tear the damn place down.

Once we reached the rundown trailer park, I noticed a bunch of people gathered around watching their neighbor's home go up in flames. They admired it like a fourth of July firework show. No one bothered to help out. They were probably too drugged up to give a rat's ass about it.

The moment I climbed out of my car and several eyes landed on me with disgust, I knew it was a meth lab. Methamphetamine had a distinct stench, and boy did it smell strong. I stood back as windows shattered from the flames that escaped out. There wasn't much I could do. Whoever was inside didn't stand a chance.

"Jesus," Chris murmured as he stepped out of the police cruiser.

Unless we wanted to burn ourselves and choke to death on the toxic fumes, we had to wait for the Hazmat guys to finish cleaning the place up. I could only stand by and watch the flames lick up every inch of the trailer. I heard hollers from the scumbag neighbors calling us a whole lot of horrible things for not bolting through the flames to save the dumbass meth head inside who blew himself up.

Soon enough, more units rolled up to the scene and parked two trailers down from the one on fire. Narcotics and other senior officers swooped in to investigate the chaos, pushing us aside like annoying children getting in their way. Once the Hazmat team cleared the area for us, only then did the real action begin.

Turned out the victim wasn't alone. He had two teenagers with him. It was a damn shame, really. Young people like them got mixed up in the drug underworld and it stole their lives. Forget prom, spirit week, and graduation. Addiction became the center of your universe once you allowed it into your life.

We couldn't all crowd inside the burnt trailer like sardines, so I had to wait for the higher ups to finish first. They handed me some crime scene tape to wrap around the area to keep neighbors and that pesky reporter out. Milada Van gave me a cheeky grin and waved as her cameraman turned his camera in my direction. If it wasn't illegal to take their camera and break it, I would.

Fortunately, two senior officers walked out of the trailer so we could enter. Let her record them instead and leave me the hell alone. Gripping the door frame tightly, I carefully walked in. I had to watch my step since the flooring wasn't very stable anymore.

We stood in the middle of the burnt living room. It seemed like nothing went untouched by the flames.

"Fire started in the kitchen where he was cooking," officer Hallie Lansing said. "Then it swept across the rest of the trailer."

"Dealers usually have a list of clients somewhere," I said. "He didn't seem like the organized type so I bet it was on his phone."

"Already bagged it as evidence," she replied. "Looks like he was getting the stuff ready for those two teens in the living room. They probably had no idea what was coming. Poor kids had their whole lives ahead of them and they threw it all away for this."

Hallie Lansing had two teen boys of her own. So I couldn't imagine how she must've felt finding those two there on the crispy couch. Death made almost any cop stop and think about their loved ones.

"What the hell's that?" I asked, pointing to the heart-shaped container peeking out from under a burnt lamp.

Grabbing a pair of latex gloves, I reached down for the container. I gently propped the lid open, revealing a white powder inside. Cocaine, maybe? Heroin? There wasn't much left, whatever it was.

"What is it?" Chris asked. "Some kind of illegal drug?"

"Probably. Get the tech's in here," I told him. "Have them bag this as evidence we need tested."

Chris nodded. "I'll go get them."

When the techs started gathering physical evidence and photographing the scene, I stepped back out into the murky morning, leaving Chris behind to help them. Or pester them. People continued to watch us from a distance, videotaping us with their cell phones. I decided to be bold and approach them, as if anyone would dare be a snitch in that shit side of town. They all knew what would happen if they came forward. We couldn't guarantee their safety twenty-four seven.

I always had better luck with the younger ones. Adults knew how to stay shut up, but the teens out there weren't so tight-lipped. A scruffy-looking boy smoked a cigarette on the curb. Real classy, smoking at a meth fire scene. He didn't seem too upset about what happened and he didn't seem fearful of my presence.

I took a seat beside him and fished a ten-dollar bill out of my wallet. "What do you know about the man's trailer that blew up?"

"Double that, and I'll answer whatever you want."

Grunting, I gave a twenty to the con-man in training. Kids these days were too greedy. I could only hope he'd spend it wisely.

"Tell me what you have on this guy."

"Marvin was a mean son of a bitch," the boy said. "Fucker hated everyone and everything. Except those two weird friends of his. Heard they was like a throuple or something."

"Throuple?"

"They was all fucking each other."

"All three of them were in a relationship?" I asked.

"He got his chick and dick too." He snickered. "I heard they did some freaky shit in there. You find anything weird in there? I wouldn't doubt it."

"There was a heart-shaped container with some kind of white powder," I admitted. "You know what that would have been?"

"Ooh. They must be taking Cupid's Jizz."

"I don't follow."

"People take it to get a sex high. I heard you can have an erection for up to six hours while on it."

"Sounds painful." I grimaced.

"I had a buddy of mine have an orgy while on it. He was so lost in lust, he said he even let another guy suck him off. Crazy shit for sure," he explained. "Some people have bad reactions to it. Especially if you take too much. Older guys like you are more likely to have a heart attack while on it too."

"I'm not old, you little shit." I frowned. "Where did this drug come from? I've never heard of it."

"Them gangs. The Vipers and the Rebels. They've been selling it here cause of how high demand it is. Kinda clever really to bring it to the market so close to Valentine's day."

After speaking with the kid, I made a mental note to check the victim's phone. I tried talking to more of his neighbors, but they all claimed to know nothing. I doubted that very much but didn't dare push them. It never ended well with a horde of people holding their phones in your face. One wrong move was all it took to go viral nowadays.

I still had a lot of ground to cover, and the day was far from over yet. After heading back inside to get detective Bailey, I climbed back in my cruiser and took a hearty sip of my coffee, which had gone cold. Lord knew I'd need more caffeine to get me through such madness.

"I can't imagine how heartbroken those teenagers parents will be when they're informed of their deaths," detective Bailey said.

"Yeah, I know. Me neither. Death notifications are one of the hardest things we have to deal with." I reversed it out of the trailer park, careful not to make the news reporters roadkill.

Pulling the sun visor down, I kept an eye out around the neighborhood. Construction cranes blocked half the road so I had to pull over onto the opposite street to get by. They were finally tearing down that old gas station. Bout time too. They better put the empty lot to good use. Something like a new burger joint would be great.

Once I hit a stop light in the downtown area near Hell's Hollow, I got into my stash of Reese's cups. Some cops turned to cigarettes to pacify their nerves. I chose a more calorie-inducing treat. Chocolate. And I was getting low. Couldn't have that while investigating a complicated meth case.

"You want anything?" I asked as I pulled up to the curb and parked.

"No thanks, I'm good. I'll keep watch until you get back," Chris replied.

How could I possibly resist stopping at the local grocer to pick up a pack when the store had their chocolate discounted a day early? It was practically fate that brought me there. And I knew damn well if I waited until after my shift all the good stuff would be gone.

Just as I made my way back to the car after purchasing the candy, a young woman's distressed wail caught my attention. A heavy-set man wearing nothing but an adult diaper ran down the road without looking both ways. It had to be some sort of cruel joke that a call came over my radio about a middle-aged man dressed as cupid running around shooting plastic arrows at people.

Could my day get any weirder? I would be so damn relieved when Valentine's day finally ended.

Reluctantly, I pursued the offender and caught up to his chubby ass quickly. He disregarded all my warnings to stop, so he left me with no other choice. I drew my taser when he wouldn't cooperate and aimed it toward his flabby back. He was down on the ground writhing in seconds. His basket of plastic arrows scattered all across the pavement beside him.

Valentine's day brought out the crazies for sure.

💀

Turns out, Mr. Cupid had some of Cupid's Jizz back in his parked car. We still weren't clear why he shot fake arrows at people on the street, as he was too drugged up to even know who he was. Statements like his weren't liable to stand up in court or even provide any factual evidence. If anything, it could get a good laugh from the jury, but that was it.

I let Chris take the lead on the interrogation because I didn't want to deal with Mr. Cupid's doped up ass. I sat beside my partner as he tried to get Mr. Cupid to tell us something useful. The fat cupid just rambled a bunch of bullshit, but Chris got his handy little notebook out to jot down notes anyway.

"Sir, can you tell me where you got the drug?" detective Bailey asked.

Mr. Cupid's grin stretched too wide for my comfort. "The White Dragon in Swamp Lake."

The White Dragon? Could that be Marvin's code name? Lately, a lot of dealers had been coming up with ridiculous nicknames to conceal their identity. He was probably dealing for the Black Vipers or the Voiceless Rebels.

"Who is this White Dragon?" Chris asked.

Instead of answering, Mr. Cupid decided to ramble on about his latest sexual encounter with a prostitute. Detective Bailey's question went in one ear and out the other. I didn't expect the doped up guy to give us anything else, even when sober, so I decided to head out of the interrogation room and let Chris handle him. I didn't want to stay and listen to Mr. Cupid's eventful sex life.

At least we got him on possession charges for the Cupid's Jizz drug we found. Unfortunately for us, drugs weren't the only possessions he owned.

Several porno DVDs laid across my desk, each with a white police officer tied to a bed with multiple dicks. One in the ass, one in the mouth, and another just hanging there.

The guys at the station got a hoot out of that. It was all good-hearted humor though.

Their banter provided me leeway to sneak off into the evidence room. Nobody had the slightest clue I was skimming through the contacts and texts on the burnt victim's phone before anyone else did. I wore gloves to keep my fingerprints off it. I knew what I'd find on there but part of me wanted to believe he wouldn't be stupid enough to get involved.

To my horror, the name I dreaded to find popped up. There was no doubting it.

My brother, Archie, somehow got involved with the dead methhead. Which meant he probably wasn't clean anymore.

Sighing, I reprogrammed a new name and phone number into his contact after deleting the messages. I shouldn't have done that, but I was so used to covering for his ass; it became instinctive. Despite what he did, we still loved him and couldn't bear the thought of him locked away behind bars with criminals. I protected the people I love.