by Dana Nussio
She was so busy settling the matter in her mind that she didn’t notice they’d pulled into the parking lot outside her eight-unit apartment complex until Jamie threw open his door, filling the car with light. Again, she wished she would have asked him to drop them off at the restaurant, where she and Aiden had walked to meet him that morning, but he’d insisted on an address this time, saying he didn’t want them to walk home in the dark. She couldn’t argue with that.
Aiden didn’t even stir, his head resting against the window, until Jamie opened the back-seat door and unbuckled his seat belt.
“I can get him,” she said, as she climbed out and rounded the back of the vehicle. Her stomach always tensed at the idea of letting anyone enter her apartment, especially the sketchy repair workers her landlord always hired, and here she was considering letting a cop inside.
“Let me help, Sarah.” He paused for a second and then added, “Please.”
“Okay.” She grabbed her bag from the hatch.
“I’m sleepy,” the boy mumbled, as Jamie lifted him and wrapped his legs around his waist.
“Well, you can go to right to bed...as soon as you brush your teeth.”
“I don’t want to.”
“We’ll be superfast. I can’t be responsible for you getting cavities.”
Even nervous as she was, Sarah couldn’t help smiling as her son whined again, but finally rested his chin on his friend’s shoulder. Jamie could be persuasive, as she was discovering herself.
After a few steps up the walk, Jamie looked back to her and moved his index finger back and forth, looking for directions. If he was shocked by her dingy two-story building, little more than a sixties-era motel converted into apartments with tiny kitchenettes, he didn’t show it. He didn’t even wrinkle his nose at the ever-present, garbage smell from the dumpster.
She pointed to the metal staircase on the end closest to the leasing office. At the top of the stairs she pointed again.
“Last apartment on the left.” She didn’t know why she bothered saying it that way. There was no right.
Jamie stopped in front of her apartment, stepping aside so she could unlock and open the door and flip on the overhead light. Once she closed the door behind them, she automatically started through the series of locks, beginning with the one in the doorknob, then sliding the chain and turning the three dead bolts.
He didn’t comment on all the locks, and he made no pretense of asking where the bathroom was. He simply continued to the back of the apartment, choosing correctly between the two closed doors on opposite sides of the kitchenette.
He hit the switch for the light and then turned back to her. “If you get his bed ready, I’ll help him with his teeth.”
She rounded the tiny dinette and braced herself as she turned the knob to Aiden’s room, the apartment’s only bedroom, since hers was the pullout in the living room. She released a breath as she opened the door. The room was almost clean, compared to its usual chaos. Aiden hadn’t even balked that morning when she’d insisted that he clean up his room before they went to meet Mr. Jamie.
She stepped inside and turned down the stars-and-planets comforter on the bottom bunk of the set she’d purchased, hoping that one day her son would get to have a friend sleep over. So far, it hadn’t happened. From the cheap dresser that stood next to her own, she pulled out a set of cowboy pajamas.
“Nice digs, buddy,” Jamie said from the doorway.
Sarah’s hands shook as she closed the drawer, causing her to drop the clothes on the floor. She scrambled to pick them up, stopping just short of bumping into Jamie, this time with Aiden riding piggyback.
“Our boy here was a quick brusher.” He squatted to let Aiden climb off his back.
“This is my room.” Aiden gestured to the space, which had a complete set of eight planet decals arranged in order, the sun itself nestled in the corner near the closet.
“Hey, this is really cool.”
“I have Pluto, too, but Mom put it in the drawer, since it’s not a real planet anymore. You should see the ceiling when the lights are off. It’s covered with stars. They glow in the dark.”
“Now that I have to see. Let’s hurry and get you into your pj’s so you can show me.”
“I’m not sleepy anymore.”
But his yawn contradicted his words. Jamie guided him to the bed and crouched next to it.
“I can see that, but I really do want to see your stars.”
Not certain what to make of the dampness in her eyes, Sarah stepped out of the room and closed the door to a crack to let them have the full effect of the darkened “sky.”
No more than five minutes later, when Jamie emerged from the room, Sarah was already sitting at the kitchen table, the coffeemaker brewing and two mugs resting in front of her. Her mouth went dry when his gaze moved to the mugs, but he didn’t comment on them as he closed the door behind him. She should have sent him on his merry way, but she wasn’t ready to do it yet.
“He didn’t make it past showing me the Big Dipper and the Little Dipper,” he said in a low voice. “I can’t believe you made star patterns.”
“The sign of someone with a lot of time on her hands.”
“Or someone who really cares about a little boy, who loves the stars and planets.”
“That, too.”
“I hope you didn’t mind me putting him to bed. I know bedtime rituals are Mom territory.”
She only smiled, since everything was “Mom territory” in Aiden’s case. “I’m sure he loved it, even without story time.”
She gestured toward the mugs. “I figured after our long day, I at least owed you some coffee. Decaf, of course.”
“First, you don’t owe me anything. I had a great time today. It looked like you and Aiden did, too.” He indicated the coffeemaker with a wave of his hand. “And I can’t let you serve me coffee when you’re off duty. That would be like me writing you a ticket when I’m not in uniform.”
She shifted. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all. Maybe the warring part of her that said she should send Jamie on his way had been the right one. But how she’d longed for a bit of adult company, just for a little while. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to presume.”
“Presume what?” He crossed to the counter, where the coffee had just finished brewing. He grabbed the pot and carried it back to the table. “I just meant you didn’t need to pour.”
He filled her cup and then his own before returning the pot to the warmer. “You drink decaf, too? Am I not the only insomniac in this room?”
She shook her head. “I’m just a busy mom. If I get the opportunity to sleep, I don’t want to take any chances that I’ll be lying there awake.”
He scanned the kitchen and then glanced out into the living room area, now illuminated by the lamp on an end table. She couldn’t help wanting to see the place through his eyes. Would he find the used furniture and repurposed decor trashy? Would he notice that once again there were only photos of Aiden in this apartment, never the two of them together?
His examination was slow, the same way he’d looked at her the other night at the diner, when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. She had the same disconcerting feeling she’d experienced then, that he would somehow see and know everything.
“This place is great. Did you decorate everything yourself?”
“Of course not. I hired the priciest decorator I could find and allowed her to choose only high-end furnishings.”
He pursed his lips. “Learn to take a compliment, would you? Every time someone praises your baking, you nearly run and hide in the kitchen.”
“Thanks.”
“Speaking of your baking, you don’t happen to keep any of those cinnamon rolls around here, do you?”
“There’s no way I could eat those things all the time.”
“If I had y
our baking skills I would be eating pies and cakes for breakfast, lunch and dinner,” he said with a grin. “Have you ever considered opening your own bakery?”
She shrugged. “A long time ago, I did. But then real life kicks you in the teeth, and you make other plans.”
His gaze narrowed, so Sarah smiled to soften her comment. She hadn’t meant it literally, but she still had to push aside thoughts that juxtaposed with her sweet memories from the zoo that day. Of singed skin and the jagged edges of broken glass. Of lame excuses offered for all the cuts and bruises.
“But Aiden is my life now,” she continued. “Even if I had the money, I don’t have the time to think about starting my own business.”
“It’s okay to have dreams for yourself, you know. Even moms can have them.”
“I know.” And she did, but Jamie, someone who barely knew her, was the first one who’d ever said it to her. Even her parents had always wanted her to live her life for them and their expectations rather than for herself.
“Anyway, I thought we were talking about food. If you’re hungry, I could make you something. That is if your healthy meal has worn off.” She frowned at her son’s bedroom door. “I should have given Aiden dinner before he went to bed.”
“He was too sleepy to eat, but I bet he’ll be ready for breakfast in the morning. And you don’t have to feed me.”
Jamie’s gaze moved from her kitchen cabinets to her son’s door, as if he worried he’d be taking food out of Aidan’s mouth if he accepted a meal.
“Just soup and sandwiches. I need to eat, too.”
“You mean the peanut butter and jelly didn’t hold you over?”
She shrugged. “Pretty sure I won’t be craving one of those again for a while.”
“I could eat,” he said. “But let me help.”
She would have turned down his assistance, but he was already up and opening her lower cabinet, locating a soup pan. There were only inches between them. Somehow, they worked in tandem, him pouring the can of vegetable soup into the pan and her slicing cheddar for grilled-cheese sandwiches. It was so different from when she’d been married to Mark, and dinner had to be on the table by the time he walked through the door or there’d be hell to pay.
Soon, they had a quick meal set out, next to their cooling cups of coffee.
“Thanks for dinner.”
“It’s the least I could do after today.”
“I told you that you don’t owe me anything. Heck, I practically had to beg you not to cancel.”
Because that was true, her lips lifted.
“But if you’re determined to thank me somehow, you could tell me the story you started at the zoo earlier.”
Her stomach tightened, and she twisted her locket round and round. She’d known he would ask again if she invited him to stay for coffee. Had she kept him there because she wanted him to know her story, at least the small part of it she could share? If that was true, had she lost her mind?
Jamie was a cop. That was both the beginning and the end of the argument. If he was a good one, and she suspected he might be, her skeletal stories would never be enough for him. If he was a bad one, well, she’d already seen what they were capable of doing, or not doing, if it suited their needs.
“I told you my story’s not all that interesting. It’s not even unique.”
“I like ordinary stories.”
She couldn’t help smiling at that. He was making it awfully hard not to share at least something with him, and part of her believed he would understand.
“Short version? Sheltered girl. Cocky and exciting older guy. A family who hated him. Teen pregnancy. Marriage on her eighteenth birthday.” She ticked off each fact by tapping her index finger on the edge of the table. “And...go figure...the guy turned out to be a jerk, and it didn’t end well.”
“That’s the short version, all right.” He blinked a few times and then glanced over his shoulder to the closed bedroom door, as if calculating Aiden’s age and the amount of time he would assume had passed. “Teen pregnancy?”
She breathed in and exhaled slowly, hoping her facial expression gave nothing away. “I had a miscarriage.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It happens.” Not usually the way it had to her, but she didn’t share that part.
“That doesn’t make it any easier.”
She could only nod at that, a knot clogging her throat. Even years later, she had to recall that loss in medical terms to prevent the memory of it from forcing her to her knees.
“But then that little guy in there came along, and that part was good, right?”
“The best.”
“I get the idea that there’s more to your story than that digest version.”
Sarah had lifted her mug to sip her coffee but lowered it again without drinking. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t know, but all of those locks on your door give me a hint. Five?”
She followed the direction of his pointing finger. “You might not know this neighborhood, but it’s not winning any safety awards. As a cop, you should be applauding my taking precautions, anyway. I’m a single mom. I can’t be too careful.”
“Oh, I applaud them, but don’t you ever wonder if you’re too cautious?”
Sarah crossed her arms and pinned him with her stare, but her heart pounded as if she’d just sprinted all the way from the zoo. “How can someone be too cautious?”
“It’s not cautious. It’s nervous.”
She’d kept her voice steady before, but now she didn’t dare try to answer. She hugged herself tighter and let him have his say.
“You leap out of your skin every time the bells chime at the diner.”
She shook her head. “I already—”
He kept going, despite her attempt to interrupt. “I know. You tried to explain that, but why aren’t you used to sounds you hear all day, every day? And there’s more. You’re always watching the front door of the diner...as if maybe you’re dreading whoever the next customer will be.”
“Now that’s just silly. I’m doing my job, being prepared for customers.”
“You didn’t want anyone to know about Aiden.”
She opened her mouth to interrupt again, but he shook his head.
“Or your last name.”
Now she only shrugged. If he hadn’t accepted her excuse the first time, he wouldn’t buy it now.
“Do you have any idea how many times you looked over your shoulder at the zoo today?”
“Not that many.”
She hated that her voice had lifted an octave as she spoke. Why couldn’t he stop asking questions? Just because he’d told her his deep, dark secrets didn’t mean that she had agreed to share hers, even if for a moment she’d been tempted. Besides, he was getting too close to the truth. What if he found out everything? Could she still protect Aiden if he did?
Why hadn’t she listened to her instinct and told him goodbye in the car? Or better yet, at the diner before they’d even begun to trade stories.
“I told you why I’m careful. I’m trying to be a good mom. Trying to protect my son.” She stared him down this time. It was the most honest thing she’d said to him all day. She dared him to question her this time.
He only watched her for several seconds, as if waiting for her to squirm.
“Is that all it is? Or are you running from the law?”
Chapter 9
Rapid blinking. Eyes that looked down and to the left. Though his training told him to expect whatever Sarah said next to be a lie, Jamie was ready to buy it. He needed to, and she clearly needed him to. Otherwise, why had she tried to so hard to defend herself?
But then that tight hold she had on her crossed arms loosened, and the sides of her mouth softened.
“Do you think I’d be dumb enough to willingly ha
ng out with a cop when I’m on the lam myself?”
He might have pointed out that she hadn’t willingly done anything. That it had taken from persuasion both of the guys in her apartment right now. But he couldn’t help smiling at her words.
“On the lam? Watch a lot of old cop shows, do you? Maybe Dragnet?” He tilted his head, weighing her words. “Guess you’re right. It wouldn’t be too smart.”
Or it might be brilliant, a disagreeable part of him countered. A criminal hiding in plain sight. Was she following the old adage of keeping her enemies closer than her friends? He had to admit it wasn’t a bad idea, even if technically she hadn’t sought him out. Still, he barely knew her, and he’d hidden from his fellow troopers the fact that he’d been searching for answers about her. What would he do if he discovered she really was a fugitive?
Sarah didn’t say more but piled their dishes together and set them next to the sink.
“Here, let me help.” Jamie pushed back his chair and joined her in front of the sink. There was barely enough space for the two of them to stand shoulder to shoulder there, but he pulled out the dish towel threaded over the oven door handle and dried the dishes after she washed and rinsed them.
The easy silence they’d shared while preparing the meal was noticeably absent, replaced by an awkward tension. When his arm brushed hers, Sarah startled so much that the bowl she’d been washing clanked on the sink bottom.
“Oh. Sorry,” he said.
“It’s okay.”
Clearly, it wasn’t. She didn’t even look up from the suds-filled sink as she said it. Not once since she’d made the joke about spending time with a cop had she met his gaze. But as if it was the one thing she couldn’t resist, she glanced over her shoulder toward the front door. The one that wouldn’t have opened without the help of a battering ram and plenty of weight behind it.
When she turned back to the sink, Jamie studied her until she glanced sidelong at him.
