by Leigh Lennon
He swings his arm around me, and both his forearm and biceps are rigid. A visible vein on the side of his neck pulses, and he releases an almost animalistic deep growl from his throat. The young waiter’s mouth gapes wide open, and beads of sweat instantly form on his forehead. “Oh, shit, I thought he was an older brother. He looks old, and you look young and hot as hell.” If this is some form of sorry from this poor bastard, Wells misses it as he grips me tighter to him.
“Hey, asshole, eyes on her face, not on her tits!” he roars.
“Yeah, sorry, man.”
I love his overprotective nature, and before the poor kid pisses himself, Wells gives him my drink order. “Coke. She’ll have a Coke.”
When he leaves, I know I don’t have long before the morality of my police angel overtakes him, and I cozy into his side.
“Thanks for coming to my honor.” It’s instantaneous as he moves his arm from around me.
“Yeah, that kid wasn’t very smooth. Sick son of a bitch,” he adds for good measure, but it’s not a lighthearted laugh. He’s upset, visibly angry, and he’s just now letting go of me, and I want to revel in it as long as I can.
“I would have dressed a little more conservative if I’d known we were going out,” I concede.
“Nothing wrong with your outfit. Something was wrong with that asshole.”
A woman in her late thirties brings our drinks to the table. “Hey, guys, I’m Doris. Tommy is going out on a break, and I’m taking over for him. Do you need a couple more minutes to decide, or are you two ready?”
“Great, you scared the shit out of that boy,” I tease and slug him.
“Good, at least Doris won’t ogle your boobs.”
With a little head shrug, Doris stays with us through the conversation. “Maybe just a little, honey.” All three of us erupt in laughter, and turning toward Wells’s face, his own happiness matches mine in the moment.
“You told me you were scared of heights,” he reminds me as we stand in line at the Seattle Great Wheel.
“Yeah, but just because something scares you—and you may think you shouldn’t do it—doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” I’m hoping he understands how this statement relates to us. I know he cares for me, more than just a man solving a case. I sometimes think I’m just a case when doubt creeps in, but then I’m left to believe I’m more to him. The insecurity is a motherfucker.
It’s confusing. He’s confusing.
“Okay, Confucius, let’s do this then.” His little snide comment leads me to believe he understands the dig.
Sitting across from one another, his side of the car leans a little bit. I’m not much taller than five feet, two inches, and he’s well over six feet. Close to six feet, four inches if I were to wager a guess. He towers over me, but as I’d witnessed earlier, he’s large in other areas, too, and this makes me grin.
“Okay, if you want to switch, let me know.” I have the city view, and he has the ocean view.
“Yeah, I don’t think I’m moving from this spot,” I reply. My knuckles are white, as I have them in tight fists, and the idea of moving physically makes me almost sick.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I can get the controller's attention.”
“No, life is precious. We have to live in the moment. Not wallow in our limitations.”
I can’t take my eyes off him when he winks my way, sending shivers down to the core of my stomach. I repay his gesture with a smile, and as the wheel turns, I take in the views of the city, relishing the quiet company of the man with me. I’ve imagined this moment so many times in my dreams, but nothing compares to the reality of having him in my life. This right here, beats everything I could have ever imagined.
I’m driving back to the university in my car after warding off Wells’s more protective nature. He had almost insisted he’d drive me back. It was a memorable day of hanging out with him, making him breakfast, defending my honor, and so much more.
He’d made me promise I’d text him when I got back to the dorm. It was the only way he was going to let me drive my own vehicle back. I take the long fifteen-minute walk from the parking lot to the dorm since it’s limited. Although with my situation of having no family to leave my vehicle with, I was one of the few freshmen allowed to bring my car.
The door is cracked as I approach the room, and my heart drops. What if someone has snuck in and hurt Greenlyn? I know little about her, but the way she cared for me yesterday, calling Wells during my breakdown, she earned a little bit of my respect.
“Greenlyn?” I’m apprehensive at the thought of what I may see when I open the door. These are the thoughts that creep up on me, which my therapists have tried to lessen through the years. Instead of a bloody body, which I’d convinced myself in a matter of seconds I’d find, Greenlyn is sitting on her bed in a skimpy pair of cheer shorts and a sports bra with her headphones in her ears.
“Greenlyn,” I call a little louder. “Are you insane? You left the door open,” I chastise.
“Oh, hell, Malia, you scared me.” She hops down from her loft-style bed. “Yeah, I know you don’t like people in the room, and I was studying my new routine. One of my cheerleader friends ordered Chinese and was bringing it by.”
“Okay,” I concede. “It’s just with the letter and what’s…”
“No, I’ll be more careful. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m trying to be respectful of your desires and your needs and your past.”
In her eyes, I see a sincerity I’ve been able to decipher over the years. Some would call me neurotic or roll their eyes at me. Some would simply talk behind my back, but with a few through the years, I could read true understanding, and Greenlyn does just this.
“Shit, Greenlyn, this is your place, too. I don’t want…”
“No, I’m good. I’ll be fine. I don’t have the past you do.”
I give her a little grin. “You mean baggage.”
With a little dig at my expense, we begin to laugh. “Come on.” She hops back on her bed. “Tell me about your day with your police angel.” I pull for my phone in my hand, and I send Wells a quick message before he sends a rescue party my way.
He’s one part of me I don’t want to share, or at least share much, but I give her bits and pieces, and she almost pees her pants when I explain how Wells scared the shit out of our waiter. I didn’t think I could trust another person or build a friendship, but with Greenlyn, I hope I can do just this.
I’d fallen asleep in my clothes as Greenlyn and I gossiped and laughed well past midnight. I was exhausted and didn’t want to jump out of bed to change. Greenlyn is long gone for practice when I decide to start my day.
I wake to a text from Wells, but since I’ll always refer to him as my police angel, it’s how I have him programmed in my phone.
Police Angel: I wanted to thank you for a fun day yesterday.
Me: No, you’re the one I should thank. You took me to dinner, defended my honor, and was with me as a comfort when I faced one of my biggest fears.
I wonder if he can hear the flirt in this text. In my mind, it’s as flirty as Georgia’s hair is fire engine red.
Police Angel: I’m off this weekend. Want to go to Deception Pass, about two hours north? It’s beautiful, and then I’ll introduce you to the quaint little town of Anacortes.
I know where Deception Pass is. I remember the walking trails my parents had taken us on when we camped near there the summer before the murders.
Me: I love that area. I remember it from when I was a kid. And I’d love it. Any chance Matt would let you borrow his BMW?
I love to tease him. Wells’s car is twenty times better than mine. But I also love when he teases back with names because it shows me I matter enough to annoy and mock him.
Police Angel: You’re such a brat.
Me: I know.
The texting stops, holding my phone close to my heart, as I’ve always held Wells.
Jumping from my bed, I move toward my desk. I still when
I open my closet door and sitting on top of a pile of neatly folded clothes, as if it had been perfectly placed there, is my childhood doll my mom had bought for me two years before my family’s death for my birthday. I hadn’t seen it since the murders. In my nine-year-old mind, I needed this doll, and I cried terribly when my aunt couldn’t find her. I stand staring at it, unable to tear my eyes from a doll that looked so much like me as a child. Tears fall, and with my phone still in my hand, I call the only person I know who understands this pain deep inside me.
Chapter 11
Wells
I’m staring at this doll, the type that looks a lot like she had as a child, and I can’t break her trance on it. She looks at me when I ask her a specific question, and she’s aware of her surroundings, but when she’s left to silence, her gaze falls back on that doll.
I’m quiet, trying to concoct some sort of timeline in my head, some sort of reason this doll had been placed in her closet. My worry for Malia grows by the second as I don’t share Vanessa’s assumption from yesterday that this is some prank, not anymore. In my silence, I’m relieved I’d had the sense to bring Higgins with me, who is in full detective mode.
“What do you mean, you’ve not seen it since before…?” Stewart asks. I’d not planned to bring him, but as he reminded me when I flew out of the station, we’re partners.
“Mally tore the house up looking for it, after everyone was killed. As a matter of fact, I remember she never let me back into the house even after it was cleaned up. Gail Montgomery was always offering to help, and Mally took me to Gail’s house so that she could look for the doll on her own. I cried for weeks. If I couldn’t have my mommy, I wanted my doll. Mally bought me a new one, but it was a different kind, and it wasn’t the one my mom gave me.”
She steps closer to it but doesn’t touch it. “I think it’s wearing the same clothes from before the murders.” She bolts to her desk, pulling out a photo album. “Here, look at this.” Stewart and I peer over her shoulders. “This was three days before…well, you know…the murders.” She pauses. “It was Cabe’s birthday, and Mom wanted a picture with all of us.” She points at the picture where she’s holding the same doll, and Malia’s right. It’s the same outfit, down to the cowboy boots the doll has on her feet. “See, right here. I swear I’ve not seen this doll in over eleven years.”
“Besides your roommate, does anyone else have access to this room?” Stewart asks.
“Um, I don’t think so. Maybe the RA, I’m not sure, but..” She stops, her finger tapping the temple of her head. “When I got home yesterday, the door was cracked, and Greenlyn was listening to music through headphones. I had to yell to get her attention.”
“I made a phone call on the way here to get her pulled from practice. We’ll ask her when she gets here, but for now, I don’t think you should stay.”
Her hands find passage to her hips. “I sure as fuck won’t allow some sick psycho to dictate my life. Do you know the hell I went through in countless hours of therapy to get my life in order to a point I could function outside of the four walls of the home Mally made for me in Eugene?”
It’s instinctual for me to pull her into an embrace and comfort her. I don’t look at Stewart’s reaction or care at this point. The only person who matters is in my arms.
“What?” Tears fall down Malia’s roommate’s face. “Someone came into our room?” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no, I left the door open.”
“It’s okay.” Stewart kneels in front of her. “It’s okay. No one would have guessed that this psychopath would violate your living space.”
He’s always a sucker for a pretty blonde. “I guess I may have left the door open when I went to the bathroom.” She turns her attention to Malia. “I’m sorry—so fucking sorry.” She begins to let the waterworks flow, and it’s Stewart again who is comforting Greenlyn.
Malia is still in shock, but her eyes stay focused on Greenlyn. “It’s okay. I mean, now you know what you’ve gotten into with me.” Her statement has regret written all over it with her low pitch. “You didn’t sign up for this. I think it’s best that maybe they put you with a new roommate.”
Greenlyn stands. “No, Mal, it’s not you. I’m not letting some sick fuck dictate where I’ll live, so you’re stuck with me.”
It was then her Barbie-like roommate earned many points in my book.
She sips her Dr. Pepper as we pull off I-5 in the sleepy little town of Burlington. I maneuver to Highway 20 as I continue toward Deception Pass. “Do you want to stop and get a bite to eat?” I ask.
“I packed some snacks and a cooler, so I think we’re good,” she replies. The hiking trails around the pass are the best, and of course, nothing is better than walking over the bridge.
I have to give it to the girl. When I picked her up in her dorm room, she had a small cooler packed. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. She’s in a pair of jean shorts, again showing a little bit of her ample ass I want to squeeze, and a low top tank top. I wonder if this is all she owns. I have the urge to lean over and squeeze her knee to massage her smooth sun-kissed legs.
“So,” she begins, and I brace myself for whatever will come out of her mouth. “Why aren’t you dating anyone?”
“What?” I let the words hit me, and sure enough, she’s poking around in my love life. What do I say, my heart’s always belonged to you? Nope, this gives her too much hope, and I’m not about to do this.
“You’re a nosy little thing. Let’s add that to you being trouble, mouthy, and stubborn.”
She playfully slugs me. “Ah, you’re getting to know the real me, Wells. You’re a lucky man. But no more stalling. Tell me the truth. Why aren’t you dating?”
“My last big committed relationship ended, I went on the rebound with someone else, and I wasn’t able to give her what she needed. It was a snowball effect. One bad breakup led to one casual hookup turning into so much more.”
Vanessa and my demise led me to a well-known news anchor, which became public for all to know. “It was just too soon to start anything.”
She nods her head as she tightens her jaw. She’s jealous. She doesn’t meet my gaze and shimmies away from me as far to the passenger side door as she can get. This tells me she’s jealous as fuck. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Do I want her to admit she’s jealous? A part of me wants to hear her drone on about the little green monster she’s hoarding, but the other part of me wants to see the little green monster come upon her so I know I’m right.
“This is really pretty,” she says, ignoring the conversation we’ve had in the past ten minutes. “I’ve missed this.”
“The state?” I ask for clarification.
“Well, yes, I’ve missed Washington, but I’m talking about trips. Day trips. Mom and Dad planned these every weekend. We’d camp a lot. We had been all over the state. Mally’s farm couldn’t be left very long—it wasn’t a working one, but there were chickens to feed, cows to milk, gardening to attend to. Now the land for crops had been sold off, a little more each year, in the hopes she could keep the house. So, we didn’t go out much.”
“I get that; we didn’t either. My parents were out chasing their next high.” I stop at my declaration. I don’t talk about it much, but certainly, my childhood was nothing compared to hers. My hands tighten around the steering wheel, and I can’t look at her.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It’s heartfelt, and when her hand grips my shoulder, her touch incites all the feelings this girl is stirring up in me, and it hits me how much I want her. I knew I did, but the idea of denying her will be almost impossible.
“Hey, there,” she continues, “your face is going to turn to stone, it’s so tight.” She rubs my arm, her touch not leaving me. “This isn’t a competition of whose childhood was shittier. I hope you know this. I want you to share it all with me. I want you to tell me what has hurt you in the past. You, by yourself, have been the beacon of hope, I’ve wanted in my life for so long. Let
me be this for you.”
This girl—sassy, bratty, stubborn but sweet and strong and so many other things I can’t put into words—has broken me. I continue to drive because I’m a guy, and I don’t show emotions as others might. I can’t believe her words or the power behind them as if she’s just healed some of my shitty memories of my family.
“Honestly…” She pauses, and with one little squeeze, she releases her touch from me, and I miss it like I’d miss the A/C in this car on a late summer day. “My aunt did everything she could to give me the most normal childhood under the circumstances. She even had considered selling her farm and moving to Seattle, but she felt that in Seattle, I wouldn’t be able to move on as I could in a new setting. Mally loved me like I was her daughter, and though I had a mom, I thought of her as a second mom. Plus, she was my mother’s identical twin, so that sort of helped.”
She says the last part with a little bit of a chuckle accompanying it, and with all this girl has been dealt, she’s still living, but more than that, she’s thriving.
“Maybe one day I’ll open up about the shitshow that was my parents,” I admit.
Her hand connects with mine again. “Anytime, Wells. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready to talk.”
As if on cue, we’re at the beginning of the pass, and I pull over, touching the bottom of her chin to tip it up to me. “Thanks, sweetheart. I may take you up on this one day.”
“Do you know that Queensrÿche filmed one of their music videos around here?” she asks, going down a hiking trail, and though I noticed her short as fuck shorts, she does have on at least a sensible pair of hiking boots.
“No, I had no idea,” I reply, still enjoying the view behind her.
“Yeah, it was the song, “Anybody Listening.” A great song, in my opinion.”
“Wait, you like grunge music?” I ask.
