Welcome to Blissville

by Walker, Aimee Nicole

  Josh pulled out one of my suits and ties from the depths of his giant closet once we returned to his bedroom. I watched as he opened his underwear and sock drawer and removed a pair of my boxers and dress socks that were mixed in with his stuff. My heart would’ve smiled if it could over the sweet, domestic moment.

  “I ironed this shirt after I laundered it, but it could probably use another pass,” Josh said, inspecting the pale blue shirt he held up in front of him.

  “It’s fine the way it is.” I hooked my finger in the knotted towel at his waist. “Thank you.” I kept the kiss chaste because I knew Adrian would be on his way and I didn’t want to keep him waiting. The only thing I paused to do was watch Josh pull on a pair of neon green bikini briefs. Again, there was no way I wouldn’t notice the way the fabric clung to the taut globes of his ass.

  “Keep looking at me like that and you’re going to be late.”

  I snapped my head up and caught Josh watching me in the mirror. “As if you don’t know how fond I am of your ass.” I resumed getting dressed before I pulled him to me for one last kiss.

  “Be easy on the gas pedal if you drive my car. It’s rear wheel drive so the power comes from the ass end. If you stomp the gas pedal you’ll spin the tires; it’s especially bad on wet or slick roads,” I told Josh.

  “I won’t hurt your precious car.” He rolled his eyes. I was surprised he didn’t make a crack about the power coming from his ass end too.

  “I wasn’t worried about the car getting hurt.” He could pretend that we didn’t have a similar conversation the night before all he wanted, but I could tell by the soft look in his hazel eyes that he remembered just fine. “See you tonight.” It wasn’t a question; it was a promise. He wasn’t the only one who had a hard time sleeping alone after spending so many nights together.

  “Big Daddy! Big Daddy!” Savage never failed to bring a smile to my face.

  “Dirty Bird,” I teased as I walked by.

  “Dirty Bird,” he repeated.

  I waited downstairs, and away from the temptation of Josh, for Adrian to pick me up. When he arrived, his smile was so big that I needed sunglasses to shield my eyes from the sun glaring off his white teeth. “Shut up,” I warned as I got into his car.

  “I didn’t say a damn thing,” he replied. “But if I was going to say something, it would be that you look remarkably chipper for a man whose boyfriend called the police instead of him.”

  “Good thing you’re not saying anything,” I said wryly.

  “Crazy week for you, partner. First your former fuck buddy gets killed in our county, then the drug bust, and now your boyfriend is getting harassed. What’s the likelihood that it’s all coincidental?”

  “Well, I think two of the three are related,” I told Adrian, but then I stopped to think it over. “Do you think Turner’s appearance in our county had something to do with the drugs?”

  “I think it’s something we really need to consider,” he replied.

  Captain Reardon was waiting for us when we arrived at the station. “Gabe, I need to see you in my office.”

  I exchanged a brief look with Adrian before I followed the captain to his office. “Yes, sir?” I asked once I was sitting across from him.

  “Are you aware that all incoming and outgoing email is monitored?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied, but I wasn’t sure where he was going with his question. I knew that I hadn’t broken any police department policies regarding email conduct-well, not that I was aware of anyway.

  “What you might not know is that during the monitoring process emails containing certain words or phrases are flagged and directed to our IT department for further scrutiny,” Captain Reardon said. I raised my brows, still unsure of what was going on. “Apparently, an incoming email to you was flagged and forwarded for review.” He picked up a piece of paper and slid it to me. “Congratulations on having the first flagged email since the process was implemented a decade ago, Detective Wyatt.”

  “Um, thank you,” I replied hesitantly. I looked down at the printed email and couldn’t believe what I read.

  Gabe,

  I know you didn’t want to get involved in my situation, but I wasn’t sure who I could trust anymore. I did take your advice and contacted the Cincinnati Police Department about the threats against me and things went from bad to worse.

  Please call me. 555.0045

  Nate

  I looked at the date on the email and saw that it was dated a few days before he was killed. He was coming to look for me. “Fuck,” I said in disbelief. “Why are we just now getting it? What phrase in that email slowed things down rather than sped them up?”

  “As I said before, this was the first time an email showed up in the review inbox and it was overlooked. There’s been illnesses and… you know, it doesn’t matter. I’m not making any excuses because it’s entirely possible that Mr. Turner’s death could’ve been prevented. Internal Affairs will be launching an investigation into the situation, which will include you since you were the intended recipient.”

  “I understand, sir. I have nothing to hide,” I told him.

  “I believe you, Gabe. Regardless, you will have union representation during any interview,” he firmly said. Then he did something so uncharacteristic of him. He broke eye contact and fidgeted with the buttons on his sleeves while mumbling something beneath his breath that sounded a lot like, “pompous old goat,” but I couldn’t be sure.

  “Sir?”

  Captain cleared his throat. “Internal Affairs will also be keeping a close eye on the detectives with the sheriff’s department too since they’re investigating Nate’s homicide.” Ahhh, the “pompous old goat” comment was directed at his father-in-law.

  “Fair enough,” I replied. I tried to modulate my voice so the dread I felt over potentially dealing with Billy Sampson again didn’t show. “I assume they’ll be looking in to CPD as well.” It wasn’t that Nate said the police department was corrupt, but the vague comment could be construed that way, so an investigation was the only thing to do.

  “Oh, you can bet on it.” Captain retrieved Nate’s email and slid it back into the file. “I’m waiting for a call from your union rep, Jillian Rosewood, to see when she’s available for your interview. I’ll let you know when everything is set up.” I could tell by his brisk tone that our conversation was finished and he was ready to move on to other tasks.

  “Yes, sir.” I rose from my seat and exited his office.

  Adrian nodded his head toward the coffee station that was set up in the rear of the room. “What’s going on?” he asked when we were out of ear shot from everyone else. Adrian listened intently as I told him about the email and the pending interview with IA. “That’s some serious shit.” Adrian rubbed the back of his head in shock. “Someone has to be held accountable for overlooking that email.”

  “Agreed.” There wasn’t anything I could do to help Nate Turner any more, unless I somehow was called upon to investigate his homicide, but that was highly unlikely. I could, however, make sure that Josh stayed safe, and by doing so, potentially solve Nate’s case.

  I tried to convince myself again that morning that it was a fluke, a coincidence. I wanted to think it was Sampson’s jealous tantrum, but my gut was telling me it wasn’t him. My fears were confirmed when the desk sergeant stopped at my desk with an envelope for me.

  “This was dropped through our mail slot and is addressed to you,” O’Malley said. He set it on the corner of my desk and walked away. All I could do was stare at it while a strong sense of foreboding snaked its way up my spine and burrowed inside my brain.

  “Partner, you look like you’re about to get sick,” Adrian said when he returned from the bathroom. “What’s this?” He reached down to pick up the envelope, but I stopped him.

  “Gloves,” I told him. I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out two pairs of black latex gloves. My heart was in my throat when I picked up the envelope with gloved hands.
My name was written crudely in blood red marker on the outside.

  “I don’t like this, Gabe,” Adrian said.

  “That makes two of us.” I released a deep breath and opened the envelope. Inside were several photos of Josh. “These were taken this week.”

  “How do you know?” Adrian asked.

  “These running tights are brand new,” I replied. Josh loved the bright aqua blue stripe down the side of the gray pants and I loved the Andrew Christian jock in the same shade of blue he wore beneath them that day. “Oh, God,” I said when I came to the last picture. “This was last night.” It was a photo of Josh standing in his driveway with a shell-shocked expression on his face. “He flattened his tires and then purposely set off the car alarm so Josh would come out.”

  Confirming my worst fears that the person who stalked, threatened and killed Nate had moved onto Josh didn’t make me feel better. There were times in life that a person wanted to be wrong, but Josh was in danger and the pictures proved it.

  “Whoever killed Nate thinks you know more than you do,” Adrian said, confirming my thoughts. Fear gripped my heart and made it nearly impossible for me to think. “We need to bring Captain up to speed.”

  I knew Adrian was right, but all I wanted to do was find Josh and hold him tight before I put him on a plane to a destination far from here so I would know that he was safe.

  As much as I hated how quickly word got around a small town, it sometimes had its perks; such as my insurance agent calling me before I had a chance to call her. “I heard you had a bit of trouble last night,” Holly Givens said over the phone not five minutes after Gabe left for work with Adrian.

  “Just a little,” I told her.

  “Well, is it as bad as the rumors at the diner this morning?” she asked.

  “Ohhh, how bad did they say it was?” In the grand scheme of things, four flat tires weren’t that big of a deal. I was glad it seemed as if my reality was better than the rumors, which wasn’t always my experience.

  “Four flat tires, hate messages scratched into the paint, and a busted windshield,” she responded.

  “Wow! The town really thinks someone has it in for me.” I paused for a minute to think it over. Did they think I deserved that kind of reaction from someone or were they just having fun with the speculation? “What did the hate messages say?”

  “Funny,” Holly said with a laugh, “no one seemed to know that. It was just ‘downright hateful.’” I could tell she was quoting exactly what she’d overheard because she changed her tone of voice to a shocked whisper. We had two murders in our town and one right outside of town in less than six months and two attempted murders–counting mine–yet, my vandalism garnered as much attention.

  “Huh,” I said, not sure what else to say. “Well, you’ll be glad to know it’s just the tires.”

  Holly went on to explain how coverage for replacing tires worked. Apparently, the insurance company depreciates for the wear and tear on the tires. “It’s not a replacement cost policy like you have on your home and business,” she told me, “so you will have more out of pocket expense than just your deductible. I just wanted to give you a heads up so that you’re not surprised when your adjuster talks to you later today.” I heard her fingers typing busily in the background. “You have rental car coverage if Earl can’t get you in at the Tire Store today. Just give me a call and let me know if you need it.”

  “I sure will, Holly. Thank you for your help.” She’d been the agent for my family almost all my life having taken over the agency when her father retired. I never even thought about shopping around for insurance because the service I got from her was impeccable.

  It turned out that Earl was booked up for the entire week so I called Holly back and arranged for a rental car to be delivered later that day. Holly told me that my adjuster would be out to look at the damage and measure the amount of tread that was left on each tire. “He’ll cut you a check on the spot.”

  I hung up from her and decided to check my inventory. There wasn’t anything else I could do about the situation and dwelling on the fact that someone might want to hurt me again wasn’t productive or healthy. I fell into my old habits of seeking comfort from routine.

  That lasted for all about fifteen minutes before Chaz and Meredith came rushing into the salon.

  “Baby, are you okay?” Meredith asked.

  “Oh my God, dude! What the hell is going on?” Chaz asked. “Who’d you piss off?”

  “I bet it was that fucking Sampson,” Meredith said.

  “Fucking loser,” Chaz added.

  I wasn’t sure what I could tell them, so I went with the safest response. “We’re not sure who’s responsible.”

  Meredith snorted. “I pity the dumbass when Gabe gets ahold of him.”

  “It could be a female, Meredith,” I admonished. “Remember Mrs. Honeycutt.”

  “Yeah, don’t be sexist, Meredith,” Chaz piped in. “Women can be and do anything, which doesn’t exclude being a psychopathic killer.”

  Meredith wasn’t amused by either one of us, but chose to ignore us rather than give us a lecture. “Is Gabe still sleeping or something?”

  “No, he went to work,” I replied before resuming my count of shampoos and conditioners in stock. I had software that automatically deducted the merchandise from stock when a purchase was made, but I double-checked each and every Monday. Perhaps one day I’d just rely on the figures the program gave me, but I doubted it.

  “His car is here,” Chaz said, stating the obvious.

  “Seven, eight, nine…” I began counting bottles out loud so they’d take the hint.

  “Holy shit!” Meredith’s loud exclamation caught me off guard and I lost track of how many anti-frizz shampoos I had. “He left his car for you to drive,” Meredith added. I didn’t like her emphasis, as if I was a bad driver or some shit.

  “No way!” Chaz at least had the decency to downplay his reaction when he said, “Not that you’re a bad driver…” I was sure he and Meredith were exchanging looks behind my back during his pause, “maybe just a tad fast.”

  “There’s a lot of horsepower beneath that hood,” Meredith told me. “Are you sure you can handle it?”

  I rose from where I was bent over then turned to face her with a smirk on my face. “I’m absolutely certain I can handle a hard, fast ride.”

  Meredith rolled her eyes. “Well, I guess you can test it out when you drive over to visit my mama today.”

  I had promised to visit with Willa and I would keep my word. I also decided I’d take Gabe’s car to the store and buy some apples. I was going to bake him a pie that was so good he’d probably come in his pants. Of course, I kept that part to myself.

  I updated Chaz and Meredith about what Holly said about the coverage and rental car. Once they were sure I was okay, they left me to finish my inventory so I could move on to the rest of my day. I decided to review the schedule for the upcoming week later because I wanted to get my errands over and get back in time for the adjuster to arrive, and later, my rental car.

  I confess that I was a little bit apprehensive about driving Gabe’s muscle car, but that vanished the moment I hit the button twice to remote start his growly beast. Princess was equipped with heated seats, but not a heated steering wheel or remote start. I looked down at my wardrobe and realized that driving Gabe’s car would require an outfit change. The t-shirt and jeans I had put on that morning wasn’t bad ass enough to wear when driving… Wait a minute. Gabe never told me what he named his new Charger, just his classic. No way a guy who loved cars as much as him drove an unnamed car. I made a note to ask him about it.

  I put on a pair of dark denim jeans, a light gray V-neck cashmere sweater, and swapped my wool coat for my leather jacket. I added a handsome scarf and my aviators for a nice finish before I ventured outside. I quieted the voice in my head that wanted to remind me about the potential danger I was in and tried not to look at my beautiful, damaged Princess. Then I noticed t
hat Gabe’s Charger wasn’t running and I worried that I had broken it somehow. Or someone had tampered with it. I waved off that notion and called Gabe.

  “Is everything okay?” Gabe asked instead of greeting me. He sounded even more worried than the night before and I rolled my eyes.

  “I didn’t hurt your car,” I replied sarcastically. “Well, at least I don’t think so.”

  “What’s wrong?” His tone became less worried and more amused. Gabe laughed when I told him about starting the car then deciding to change clothes into something nice to drive her. “The remote start only lasts for ten minutes,” he explained. “So, you must’ve taken longer than that to get dressed and get down to her. Josh?”

  “Hmmm.” I was distracted by the affectionate way he said my name.

  “You could wear a burlap bag and look good.” I heard the smile in his voice.

  “Aw, you’re so sweet,” I replied, “but I’m not shaving days off of your pole dancing sentence.” I had special plans for him that night and needed time to put them in place.

  “One of these days you’re going to take my compliment for how it’s intended and not suspect an ulterior motive,” Gabe told me. He sounded like he was making it one of his life’s missions.

  “Maybe,” I said without commitment. “Anything I need to do special since I let the remote start run too long?” I asked, getting him back on subject.

  “Nope. Just press and hold your foot down on the brake then hit the start button,” Gabe said. “Josh, be safe. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I’ll be careful.” I knew he was talking about more than my driving. Even if Gabe was overreacting, it always paid to be careful.