Covering Ollie (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha) (On Call Book 2)

by Freya Barker

  The man looks miserable slinking out of my office, but with the budget as tight as I'm working with, I really can't afford any more fuckups. I made a promise to the city council I would streamline this department when they hired me, and I'm bound and determined to fulfill that promise.

  “You busy?”

  Detective Keith Blackfoot sticks his head in the door.

  “No, come in.”

  “Autumn asked me to remind you about Saturday.”

  His wife is about to pop her first, and instead of the more common baby shower, she’s decided to throw a pre-delivery bash, claiming it might well be the last chance for adult interaction before the baby announces itself.

  “I haven’t forgotten. Gonna have to double-check with the babysitter. What can I bring?”

  “You come in with any more than just the jacket on your back, my wife will have your hide.”

  I don’t doubt it for a minute; Autumn is a force to be reckoned with. Especially these last few months of her pregnancy, she seems even more ‘spirited’ than usual.

  “Not gonna risk that.”

  “Wise man,” he says with a salute before disappearing down the hall.

  I consider myself lucky. Last summer my boys were struggling even more than they had been right after losing their mother. Heck, I was struggling trying to maintain my job in Denver, while trying to be everything I needed to be to see my kids through. It hadn’t been easy, with everything and everyone around us a constant reminder of what we were missing in our life. When my friend, Tony Ramirez, another detective for the DPD, made me aware of this job opportunity in Durango, I jumped at the chance.

  Despite its challenges, I haven’t regretted it yet.

  The kids are adjusting, doing better in school, and although I miss some of my old friends back in Denver, I’ve been fortunate to find a whole new tribe of friends down here.

  On my way home, I stop in at the City Market to pick up a few things for dinner, but when I walk into the front door, the scent of something cooking hits my nose.

  “What are you guys up to?” I ask, walking into my kitchen where Trinny, framed by my boys, is stirring something that smells pretty awesome.

  “Trinny’s teaching us to cook,” Ryder says, his face lifted up to mine.

  He still does this, every time I come in, he’ll come running and hugs me as if he hasn’t seen me in days. He still craves physical contact. Mason is far more reserved. Or, I should say, has become far more reserved. Both my boys used to be liberal with their affection, something Jenny encouraged, but since her death, Mason seems to withdraw. Probably part age—puberty is coming on strong—but it may also be his way of coping with his grief. Afraid a hug or a touch might trigger feelings he’s not ready to deal with.

  “Really? So what are you making?” I lean over Mason, giving his shoulder a little squeeze.

  “Chili,” Ryder says proudly. “And we helped.”

  “It smells amazing. I knew you could bake—your cookies are awesome by the way—but this is a surprise.”

  A little smile plays on Trinny’s face and her cheeks stain pink. “Mom started teaching me when I was twelve, I thought it might be fun for the boys to learn. Maybe they can help out when they’re a little older.”

  “Music to my ears,” I tell her, thinking that quirky mother of hers has done a damn good job raising her kid. I should be taking notes.

  “You’re not staying?” I ask, when ten minutes later she shrugs in her coat and picks up a plastic container from the counter.

  “I want to take Mom some dinner,” she says, holding up the container. “I have a few things to make up for.”

  I raise my eyebrow. “Yeah?”

  She shrugs. “I wasn’t very nice last night, and I also feel bad I’m letting her down this weekend.”

  “Why? What’s this weekend?”

  “We’re supposed to be moving Granny Grace into her new place this weekend.”

  “Your grandmother?”

  “Our old neighbor. I’ve known her all my life. Anyway, she’s moving into an assisted-living residence on Saturday, and now I won’t be a lot of help.”

  Definitely hats off to Ollie.

  “I’ll help her.” The words are out of my mouth before I can check myself. “You cooked dinner for me tonight, I’ll be happy to give your mom a hand this weekend, if you keep an eye on the boys. Actually,” I add, thinking belatedly of Autumn’s party. “I was going to ask if you were free Saturday night anyway.”

  “If you’re sure? That would be awesome.”

  “Positive.”

  I watch her dart across the street, clutching the container in her one available hand.

  Positive I want to help out, absolutely, but I’m not so sure it’s smart.

  Ollie

  “Morning.”

  I’m just locking the door behind me when I hear his soft voice over my shoulder.

  “Hey. What are you doing here?” I’m confused, looking over his shoulder to see his SUV blocking my pickup in the driveway. “Trinny mentioned you had work to do this morning. Is something wrong?”

  Now it’s his turn to look confused. “I did. I mean I do, moving your neighbor.”

  My mouth falls open. How did he know…Trinny. I’m going to kill her.

  He seems to have come to the same conclusion, wrapping his hand around the back of his neck and glancing at his house across the street before turning back to me.

  “I was under the impression—”

  “I had no idea. Seems I need to have a chat with my daughter.” Fucking mortified. “Look, I appreciate the gesture, but I can manage.”

  “Nonsense,” he immediately states. “I have nothing else pressing and if we take both vehicles, we’ll have it done in no time. I already flattened the back seats so I’ve got tons of room.”

  It’s on my lips to pass on the offer, but that would be bordering on rude, and I don’t really want to perpetuate the lousy track record I’m setting with this man.

  “If you’re sure.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “All right, in that case, thank you. I don’t know what Trinny told you, but Grace is special to us. She was our neighbor from the time Trinny was a newborn and was a great support to us. She still lives in the River’s Edge Apartments over on Roosa Avenue, but she’s moving into the new assisted-living complex on the south side, across from the Walmart.”

  “I know where that is. Here, let me back up, so you can get out and lead the way.”

  I linger by the door of my pickup to watch him saunter down the drive to his car. Yes, this man saunters: his long legs casually eating up the distance with strides that would require at least two of mine to keep up.

  He stays close behind me on our drive to Grace’s apartment, and I find myself hyperaware of the fact I have the chief of police following me through town. Unlike my normal impatience, I find myself driving like someone’s grandmother.

  “Was that for my sake?” he asks, grinning beside the truck when I get out.

  “What?” I make my eyes big and go for innocence.

  “Your snail’s pace. You forget, I live across the street and have seen you tear out of your driveway on occasion.”

  “I was just making sure you could keep up,” I huff, turning my back and heading over to the entrance. I hear his low chuckle behind me as he falls into step.

  “Hey, Gorgeous—you’re back!”

  I look up to see Ouray walking out of the building, a big grin on his face. He’s the president of the local motorcycle club that took over the property about ten or so years ago. I’d been apprehensive at first, preparing to move out if things deteriorated even further than they already had under the previous owners, but there hadn’t been any reason to. Over the next few years, the units were all brought up to code, the common areas were updated, and they’d given me my first grounds design contract. I still do all their snow clearing.

  I gladly step into his bear hug.

  “
Benedetti.” He lets me go and nods to the man beside me. “Didn’t know you two knew each other.”

  “Likewise.” Joe’s voice, normally soft, gains an edge of steel.

  Eager to divert whatever animosity suddenly makes the air thick, I clarify, “Joe’s my neighbor. He’s helping me move Grace.”

  “Shit, is that today? You know you could’ve called us. I would’ve happily moved her over.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it, but Trinny and I promised Grace we’d accompany her to her new place.”

  He looks behind us. “Where is the little wench?”

  “Nursing her arm in a cast and watching Joe’s boys.” His eyes narrow on the large man beside me.

  “That a fact?”

  “Right,” I clap my hands together to preempt any more of this he-man behavior I have no patience for on my best day. “We best get inside, can’t keep Grace waiting.”

  I grab for Joe’s wrist and pull him into the building behind me. He doesn’t say a word, and I don’t let go until we’re safely in the elevator.

  “I’m not sure what’s with the—” I start, but he cuts me off, leaning down in my face.

  “You know he’s married, right?”

  Well, I’ll be… “Are you for real?” My temper instantly spikes into the red zone. “Do you always make assumptions based on absolutely nothing?” I may have yelled those last words, because the couple waiting for the elevator on the third floor jumps back from the opening doors. “Sorry,” I mumble, as I dart past them.

  Too fast, and my knee buckles, again. I really need to get my prosthesis adjusted. A firm hand at my elbow holds me upright. “For Chrissakes, slow down, will ya?”

  “For your information,” I hiss at him. “Ouray has been a friend, and nothing but, for years. And yes, I fucking know he’s married. His wife is all he talks about.” I tug my arm from his hold and—this time a little more carefully—walk to Grace’s door, mumbling something about men being morons.

  I take a deep breath before I slide my key in the lock, as I do every time I visit her. At seventy-five, every day is a gift—as Grace reminds me often—but each time I stand outside this door I’m terrified of what I might find behind it. Losing Grace would crush me. Not to mention what it would do to Trinny. Grace is the only family she’s known.

  I was clueless when Trinity was born, and one night in our new apartment, when I was crying as hard as the red-faced infant in my arms, this woman knocked on my door. It was coming up on three in the morning and I was terrified. Wouldn’t open the door to her, so she sat outside in the hallway, while I was inside sitting with my back against the door, talking me through my first maternal meltdown. Trust me, there’ve been plenty after and Grace has been right there for each one of them. I couldn’t love this woman more if I were her flesh and blood.

  “It’s me!” I call out when I finally open the door, almost tripping over a stack of boxes. Dammit. I told her to wait for me.

  “In here!” she yells back and I follow her voice into the bedroom, where I catch her standing on a folding chair taking down her curtains.

  “For fuck’s sake, Grace. You’re gonna break your neck.” I rush up to her and grab her hips.

  “Oh, quit your fussing,” the old bird snaps back, but her eyes go wide when she looks behind me. “You, however, can fuss over me all damn day.”

  Christ, give me patience.

  I shake my head as I help her down from the chair. Joe moving in quickly to rescue the curtain rod about to fall.

  “You gonna introduce me to this tall glass of—”

  “Grace, this is Joe, my neighbor. Joe, meet Grace, my ex-neighbor, and pain-in-the-butt best friend.” I’m quick to make introductions, never quite knowing what will come from her mouth next. With the years, what little filters she had, seem to have disappeared altogether.

  “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Joe reaches for her hand, and at the last minute she offers it up like royalty, palm down. My eyes roll to the back of my head, and I’m about to say something, when a chuckling Joe decides to play right along. Holding her hand by the fingers, he leans down and presses a kiss on her knuckles.

  “Oh, my. Someone get me my smelling salts, I’m getting lightheaded,” she titters, waving her other hand in front of her face. Drama queen.

  “Sorry. You’re clear out of those,” I quip, pulling the folding chair out of the way before she falls over it. “And maybe next time you’ll think twice before you start climbing the furniture.”

  Chapter 4

  Joe

  The old lady is a card.

  What started out a little shaky this morning, to say the least, has ended up being a surprisingly enjoyable morning. The back and forth bickering between Grace and Ollie actually had me laugh out loud a couple of times, and that hasn’t happened in a long while.

  “Let’s go, Grace,” Ollie prompts her, when she stops to say goodbye to another neighbor.

  She’s been saying goodbye for a good ten minutes, while I loaded up the chair Ollie had her planted in for most of the morning, as we emptied her apartment. We’ve already made a few runs to the new place and most of her things are already there.

  “I want to drive with him,” she says, walking over and tucking her arm in mine. “His truck is nicer.”

  For all of her grumbling, Grace spends the entire trip to the assisted-living facility, singing Ollie’s praises. Clearly the woman thinks—or hopes—we’re more than just neighbors, and it’s making me slightly uneasy. Not because the idea of something more doesn’t appeal to me, but rather because it does.

  “I lost my wife to cancer sixteen months ago,” I find myself saying. My words are met with silence, but I can feel her eyes closely scrutinizing me.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “We were married for almost twenty years,” I add, sending a quick glance her way.

  “You don’t say. I lost my husband thirty-three years ago next month.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I respond, not quite sure where she’s going with this.

  “Been nursing my grief for all those years.” I make a sympathetic sound, waiting for her to get to her point, which I’m sure she will. “I’m seventy-five now, and all I have left are regrets. Never had kids, waved off any prospect at happiness over the years—my husband would be pissed as all get out. The only light in my life was the day a broken woman with a newborn baby moved in next door. Those two saved my life.”

  I hear her clearly. The comment about a broken woman I file away for later consideration, but it’s obvious what she’s telling me. “It’s too soon.”

  Her snort is loud. “Says who? I’m not aware of any minimum requirements on grieving. You lost your wife way too young, and that’s sad, but what’s truly tragic is to waste the rest of your life pining for something you’ll never be able to get back anyway.”

  “I’ve only just met her. I don’t even know her,” I try again, not sure why the hell I’m justifying myself to this woman I just met hours ago.

  “Shouldn’t take a smart man long to recognize a diamond in the rough.”

  There’s really no good response to that comment, so I keep silent, relieved when we turn into the parking lot of the Canyon Trail Residence.

  It doesn’t take us long to unload the remaining boxes and furniture, and within an hour, Grace is installed in her new place. We’re not allowed to touch the boxes, she insists on unpacking herself, but instead are ordered to sit and have a celebratory drink with her.

  I can’t help the involuntary wince when I take a sip of what I thought was wine, but turns out to be sugary sweet port instead. I don’t have the heart to say anything. Ollie has no such qualms.

  “Christ, Grace, this is like sipping pancake syrup. How can you stand it?” The look on her face is one of utter disgust. “You need a glass of water to wash this stuff down?” she asks me, already getting up, rubbing her knee as she stretches.

  “Shouldn’t you give that stump a
rest?” Grace calls after her. She hears my inadvertent sharp inhale and turns to me with an eyebrow raised in challenge.

  “I will when I get home,” Ollie calls back from the small kitchen, apparently not at all self-conscious.

  Wow. Okay, so I’d noticed something was up with her leg, but I didn’t realize it was missing. I immediately wonder how she lost it, although, it’s possible she was born like that.

  I try hard not to stare when she walks back in the room carrying two glasses of water, handing one to me. I gulp it down, in part to wash the sticky sweet taste from my mouth, and in part as a distraction.

  Ollie seems oblivious to my internal struggle, but Grace is keeping a sharp eye on me.

  We don’t stay long. Ollie hugs Grace goodbye and walks out ahead of me with a promise to call her tonight. I’m about to step outside after her, when the older woman pulls me in for a hug as well.

  “Think about what I said,” she whispers, before letting me go. I just nod and close the front door behind me.

  Ollie is waiting by the vehicles, and sticks out her hand when I join her.

  “Thanks so much for your help. You really didn’t have to.”

  “Not a problem.” I take her hand and let it go quickly when I realize how good it feels in mine.

  I think—all the way home I think about Grace’s words, about Ollie’s disability, and how it makes me curious, but doesn’t seem to have any impact on my attraction to her. For someone who, just a few days ago, never even considered ‘moving on,’ I’m thinking about it pretty damn hard. Since Jenny’s death I’ve barely taken notice of women in that way. My body has been virtually numb until now. The only time I felt a pang of awareness was with a friend of Autumn’s, that nurse, Jen. That was mostly because of her name and similar physique to my late wife, and nothing like the strong physical response I seem to have to my neighbor.

  Therein lies the crux. Perhaps if she were anyone other than my neighbor, who also happens to be the mother of my babysitter, I might consider a friends with benefits scenario. I’d even briefly considered inviting her to Autumn’s party tonight, but she is all of those things, and therefore any entanglements would be complicated right off the bat. No. Better to keep my distance.