A police detective investigates a suspicious preschool. An age regression story. 6 min read.
The morning sun drooped behind the windowpane, pale as a nectarine. Erik drummed his fingers on the preschool’s reception counter, absently scanning the autographed artwork on the wall. There was a splotchy red fish by Ryder, hand-smeared tulips by Paige, and what looked like a papier-mâché caterpillar by… Nicolas.
The name uncorked a torrent of anger and resentment that he’d been trying to suppress all day. When the station commander had departed for her conference, he’d expected to be the one left in charge. Instead, it had been his archrival, Nico, who had received the honor.
Erik seethed at the thought of the cocky pipsqueak perched on the commander’s swivel chair, issuing orders and directives, while he was out doing fieldwork in, of all places, a damn preschool. Him, five-time Detective of the Year, with the physique of a bank safe, li