Finding Home

by Rachel Smith

  “You plied me with wine, so I’d dish the details about me and the hot cop?”

  She covered her mouth with her hand in a worthless attempt to hide her sassy smile.

  “You are evil,” I hissed.

  “Whatever.” Melissa waved her hand in the air, pulling my attention back to her. “You two could freaking argue over the color of the sky. Now, I want details. Vivid ones. And don’t leave anything out. Go.” She lifted her glass, draining its contents in three big gulps.

  “Well,” I started, still looking at Melissa. Damn, that girl could throw back wine. “He likes to run away from me.” They all gave me funny looks. Suddenly feeling shy and awkward, I picked at an imaginary chip on the kitchen table. “I mean, not literally, like, sprinting away or anything. But it’s weird because he seems to be super nice and maybe even into me. The night he took me home from the Hornet, he stayed with me all night on his bathroom floor because I’d gotten sick. He was super sweet and chatty the next morning, and then suddenly, he stopped. Just like, boom, finished. Nothing. No more talking.”

  Three sets of eyes stared at me, almost like they were waiting for more. “That’s it?” Melissa asked.

  “Well, I mean, the other times he ran away were because of work. I can’t blame him for being a responsible employee to the police department. He’s a cop. When duty calls… ya know…” I waved my hand in the air and took another drink of wine.

  They could figure it out.

  I looked up when no one responded. Charlotte still had her hand over her mouth. One side of Lily’s lips had lifted into a tiny smirk, and Melissa flat out grinned like a loon.

  “What’d I miss?” I asked.

  The three of them burst out laughing, cackling like hens while I watched in utter confusion. This was why I sucked at having close friends; never in on the joke, always on the outside being the one laughed at.

  I put my head in my hands, embarrassed to be so stupid and naïve.

  “Oh man, he is so totally into you. The boy is a smitten kitten.”

  I looked up at Melissa. “Huh?”

  “Yeah,” Lil agreed, “like, big time.”

  “I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “What?”

  “First off,” Charlotte piped in, “do not call him a boy, Melissa. Or… a kitten… whatever. Seriously, he carried me through a burning warehouse while bullets whizzed past our heads. He’s all man.”

  I stared at my sister, who then turned to face me. “And yeah, honey, he’s definitely got it going on for you. One hundred percent. His problem—which seems fitting—is that he doesn’t know what to do about it. His whole life has been about becoming a federal agent. When he took that bullet for me, his dream went up in smoke just like Carlito’s warehouse. It can’t be easy for him to identify himself with anything else until he works through it.”

  “Okay, for one.” I lifted my index finger up. “I hate that you talk about the whole ordeal with Carlito like it was no big thing. You were kidnapped, Charlie. And two,” I lifted another finger, “I’m quite certain there’s nothing going on to cause Alex to work through any sort of feelings.”

  “I suggest you let him work that out with you,” Melissa piped in again, totally ignoring my previous statement. I turned to see her literally lick the inside of her empty wine glass. With one finger, I slowly pushed the wine bottle her way and watched her fill it up again to the brim.

  “You should call him,” Lily suggested. “Do you have his number?”

  I felt my face redden as the blush crept up my neck and into my cheeks. I did have his number, but only because when I stole his phone last weekend for my picture-taking spree, I called myself. I can’t tell you how many times my finger has hovered over his number the past few days.

  “Well?” Charlotte asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I have it. But I’m not calling him,” I added quickly. “Listen, we had a nice lunch the other day. He was sweet, and even flirty.” Lily’s eyes brightened with excitement. “It was really no big deal. I mean, he’s a super nice guy, but he doesn’t need me blowing up his phone.”

  “Yeah,” Melissa agreed. “You guys should give her a little break. What’s with your constant need to push people together?”

  Lily grinned at her. “Oh, you mean push people together like we do with you and Evan? Kinda like that?”

  Yes! A diversion, hopefully they run with it.

  “Oh no.” She shook her head and wagged a single finger at Lily. “You are not going to turn this around to harp on me. I will never, as long as I live, be with Evan Wakefield.”

  “Whatever you say,” Lilly muttered into her wine glass.

  Melissa’s face reddened. “Let it the fuck go; it’s never going to happen.”

  Yikes. I’d be mortified if my friend snapped at me like that. Lily didn’t appear to be affected at all as she sat back in her chair. In fact, she seemed pleased with herself.

  The room fell silent, Melissa now the one focusing on the fake chip on the table, until Charlotte yawned. “Sorry, this baby really takes it out of me. Maybe we should head home, girls, leave Lizzie to enjoy the rest of her night.”

  They both agreed, took their empty wine glasses to the sink and gave me tight, lingering hugs before they left. It was odd, really, having girlfriends who just stopped by to steamroll their way into your personal life and drink all your wine.

  But that’s what girlfriends do, right? And really, they were just being nice to me by association. They were all Charlotte’s friends.

  I sighed and trudged to my living room, flopping down on the plush sofa. I pulled out my phone, weighing the pros and cons if I should actually make that call to Alex.

  Yes. No.

  Do it. I can’t.

  Yes, you can. I’m too chicken.

  Just do it. Okay, maybe I’ll just send him a text.

  I stared at the blank screen for hours before finally mustering the nerve to type. Okay, maybe more like minutes.

  But God, it felt like hours.

  Me: Just wanted to say thanks again for lunch the other day.

  I watched for those little bubbles indicating he was texting me back.

  Nothing.

  I changed into my pajamas, brushed my teeth, and washed my face before I checked again.

  Still nothing.

  Me: This is Lizzie, by the way.

  There. Maybe he hadn’t answered because he didn’t know who’d sent the text. That had to be it. Unless he just didn’t want to answer. Or maybe he was with another woman and couldn’t answer.

  “I’m an idiot,” I groaned and powered down my phone for the night. For a moment I wondered if maybe I should leave it on. Just in case. I mean, what if he texted back in the middle of the night?

  Then again, it would wake me up and I’d be super crabby tomorrow.

  Finally deciding, I set the phone on my bedside stand and crawled into bed.

  I did the right thing, right?

  Or did I?

  Back and forth, my brain volleyed the idea of turning it back on or leaving it off.

  On.

  Off.

  On.

  Off.

  Apparently, the battle inside my head rose to epic proportions, sucking every ounce of energy from my body and lulling me into a deep sleep.

  The phone remained off.

  8

  Alex

  I couldn’t get my head out of the clouds this morning. I’d been on patrol for hours, driving aimlessly through the streets of Glenview, not seeing a damn thing. And it wasn’t because I hadn’t been looking. Oh no, it was because my mind was stuck on Elizabeth Rockwell.

  Her text the night before had caught me off guard. I didn’t even know she had my number.

  This is Lizzie, by the way, she had said. Like I’d taken some other woman out to lunch and wouldn’t know it was her. I shot a quick text back, hoping she would answer so we could talk. I waited, and waited, and then waited some more.

  Nothing.

 
It wasn’t that late, so I called, memorizing the sound her soft voice as she instructed me to leave a message.

  I pulled into the parking lot behind the bank and grabbed my phone, my lips curling up at the ends as I swiped the screensaver away and her picture came up. I’d been doing that a lot lately I noticed, simply because I wanted to see her face. I probably should change it back to the boring landscape scene it had been on since I got the damn thing, but I couldn’t force myself to actually do it.

  I wanted to see her. I wanted to be around her because she somehow felt like home to me, and I’d never had that in my life, not once. I wanted to laugh with her and take her out on a date. I wanted to know what her face looked like when I made her come.

  “Shit,” I whispered and ran my hands through my hair. “I’m in so over my head with this woman.”

  I shifted my patrol car into drive and began another steady cruise through town. Winding through the side streets, I made my way past Brandon Waters’ house, checking for any activity. I knew from frequent reports that he was currently staying with his aunt. Apparently, not a soul in town felt it pertinent to bail Paul out of jail, so he’d spent all week in a dingy cell.

  Good riddance if you asked me. I wished I had more dirt on the guy so I could lock his ass up for good. He’d been tight-lipped all week, not giving away what any of the shit he spewed at Brandon was about. Pulling out my cell, I made a note to check in with the lead detective on the case. See if he’d made any headway about what sort of mess those two had gotten themselves into.

  It was the situation concerning the mother that really rubbed me the wrong way. It appeared Nancy Waters had fallen off the face of the Earth. I’d mobilized one of my old buddies at the Bureau in hopes she’d turn up in a cheap motel close by, but so far, my guy had come up dry. No credit card trail, no ping of her cell phone, nothing.

  That was never a good sign.

  I forced my thoughts away from the Waters family and back to Lizzie. I get she had probably fallen asleep last night and didn’t see my texts or missed call, but what about this morning? Surely, she’d seen them by now.

  “Jesus, just go drive by her house, you pussy,” I muttered, disgusted with myself for being so ridiculous.

  Just as I turned the corner to head east off Main Street, a familiar figure on the sidewalk caught my attention. I slowed, carefully pulling into park across the street. Looking in the rearview mirror, I watched as Liz smiled at the nice-dressed man in front of her. He smiled back and then looked down at the ground as pink hit his cheeks. She must’ve complimented him, said something that made the asshole blush like a fucking schoolgirl.

  My blood boiled. I knew it wasn’t a logical reaction, but it still happened. Pushing my door open, I got out and jogged across the street, not even bothering to shut the car off first. Neither of them saw me coming, but my steps faltered when I heard the guy say, “So, I’ll call you later and we can hash out the remaining details. Sound good?”

  “Lizzie!” I snapped, as I made my way closer. She jumped at the sound of my voice; her eyes wide as she stared at me in shock.

  “Alex,” she said warily. “What are you doing here?”

  Without stopping, I stormed right up to her and placed my hand possessively on the back of her neck. I turned her toward me and leaned down to brush my lips across her forehead, never taking my eyes off the well-dressed asshole. “Thought that was you, babe,” I whispered.

  She tried to pull away, but I held tight, making a statement she belonged right here. Right next to me.

  Her entire body stiffened, jaw set tight as she pulled her lips into a thin line, and I knew I’d pissed her off. Well, so be it. I was pissed, too. Couldn’t tell you why, but I wanted to haul her ass to my car and lock her inside while I beat this stuffy guy to a pulp.

  “Alex Lexington,” I said and extended my hand toward him. He looked down at it and then reached out to oblige, his handshake so limp it felt like a wet noodle in my hand. I squeezed hard and the douchebag winced from the pressure.

  Actually winced.

  Pansy.

  I pulled my hand back and rested it on my hip, right next to my gun. The man’s eyes grew round and then he looked away, noticeably uncomfortable as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn’t bad looking, but I did notice a little gray in his hair. He had to be mid-forties, maybe a little older. He looked like one of those stuffed shirts whose idea of a good time was sipping gin and tonic at a snooty country club instead of throwing back a few beers during a ballgame.

  Khaki dress pants, pastel button-down shirt without a single wrinkle, shiny loafers on his feet and… no ring.

  Single guy trying to hit on my girl.

  “Alex,” Lizzie said, her voice trembling through her clenched teeth as she tried to keep her tempter under control. “This is Max Mayland. He’s Melissa Evans’ boss.”

  I knew Melissa, but not well, so that meant nothing to me. I turned to look at her, still not releasing the hold on her neck. “That so?”

  “Yes,” she hissed sharply.

  I looked back at Max. “Nice to meet you.”

  He cleared his throat, his eyes darting around, trying to look at anything but the two of us. “Well, Elizabeth, I’ll uh… I’ll call you later and we can, um, go over the details and finalize things at that time.” He gave her a weak smile and nodded at me. “Nice to meet you.”

  Max stepped off the curb and walked across the street to his car. The man screamed of money, so of course he drove a shiny Beemer. I caught his plate numbers and made a mental note to run a check on him when I got back to the station.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Lizzie broke free from my hold with a sharp elbow to my gut. For a little thing, the force of her jab was strong enough to knock the wind out of me. She’d put a decent amount of distance between us before I caught my breath.

  “Hey, wait up!” I called, following her. “Damnit, Lizzie.”

  She whirled around, her perfectly manicured finger in my direction. “Don’t you dare ‘damnit, Lizzie’ me, you… you… you cocky asshole.”

  I ignored her and kept advancing, watching as she planted her feet to dig in and hold her ground. When I reached her, my arm snaked around the sexy curve of her waist and I pulled, jolting her body against my chest.

  “Why didn’t you answer my texts?” I asked and her eyes grew wide with confusion.

  “What?”

  “I asked why you didn’t answer my texts from last night. I called, too. You don’t think maybe it’s a good idea to give me a shout back?”

  She blinked slowly, looking down to her hands on my chest before she lifted her head to meet my eyes. “You did what?”

  My patience began to wear thin. I ran my tongue across my molars, counting to five inside my head in a last-ditch attempt to keep my cool. “Not into games, honey, so this one you’re playing with me needs to end right now.”

  I watched as her innocent look of confusion morphed into anger. Her eyes glittered as she planted her hands against my chest and pushed.

  “Screw you, Alex. I’m not playing any games. Ugh,” she grunted and stomped her foot on the ground like a toddler. “Where’s the nice guy that looked out for me when I was drunk off my ass, huh? Or the guy I had lunch with last week. Why can’t you be that guy right now? Why am I always a giant asshole target?” She looked up to the sky like God would give her the magic answer. “Damnit!” She closed her eyes, only opening them again after she took a calming breath. “I shut my phone off last night and just realized I haven’t even turned it on yet today. So no, I haven’t seen your texts, or I would have responded.”

  “You need to leave your phone on, Liz. What if there’s an emergency?” I scolded.

  A cynical laugh escaped her throat, and she shook her head. “Unbelievable.”

  “I’m serious. You’re a single woman living on her own. You need your phone powered up at night.”

  “Ten-four, Captain. Any other life lessons
I currently need to learn? No? Super.”

  Before I was able to respond, she turned on her heel and took off running. Full steam ahead, I watched as she cut through the alley toward her house. After already creating a scene on the sidewalk—while in uniform, no less—I figured running after her was a bad idea. Hell, there were enough gossips in this tiny town with nothing better to do, they’d probably activated their damn phone tree already, letting everyone know Lizzie had been in my arms right there for everyone to see on Main Street.

  Next thing you know, I’ll hear I knocked her up or some ridiculous shit.

  Once in my car, I ignored the flashing light on my phone and my computer. I’d only made it around the corner when movement a block up the street caught my eye. Assuming it was Liz, I slowed the car and turned into the alley so she wouldn’t see me. Except it wasn’t Liz, it was Brandon Waters, wearing a dark gray sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. Most of his face hidden behind the fabric, but I could tell it was him, the thick bulk of his cast straining his sleeve. He walked up to a small, pale-blue house only half a block down from Liz’s place. After two knocks on the door, he waited. His weight transferred from one foot to the other as he scanned the area, looking fidgety and on edge. When the door opened, he stepped inside, blocking any chance I had at seeing who had let him in.

  A shiver slid up my spine. My gut told me something wasn’t right about that place, about Brandon being there. He wasn’t just stopping to see a buddy.

  Something else was up.

  I pulled out of the alley toward Lizzie’s house, craning my neck to try and catch the house number without having to drive by. They might see my cop car and be suspicious. I parked in Lizzie’s driveway from the back alley and quickly punched the address of the blue house into my computer.

  A name popped up immediately: Johnathon Trellis. Under his name, an extensive list of priors and notes on the guy. Not reading anything on the list, I scribbled down the name and threw the piece of paper onto the dash, making a mental note to ask Raftzen about him later. Maybe it was just a buddy’s house, but with the way Brandon had looked around before he went inside, I didn’t think that was the case. Which meant they were both up to no good.