Ice Breakers

by Heather C. Myers

  I got onto the 405 south and headed for the police department. I wasn’t here to see Beech. If Derrick was right and there was more evidence against Eric that he turned over to the police, I needed to find out what that was. I knew Beech wouldn’t tell me but maybe I could compel whoever was working property to at least tell me.

  This wasn’t looking good for Eric. Then again, he had been drugged.

  I wasn’t sure what to believe at this point. If only I could get my hands on that evidence…

  It took another ten minutes before I reached the police station. I was surprised by how empty the 405 was, but I didn’t want to start questioning a good thing. After grabbing my badge, I stepped out and headed for the rear entrance of the station.

  The city building was already closed. It was just after seven, and things had slowed down substantially. When I buzzed myself in, there was no one emerging from the locker rooms, no one telling the stories of their day over coffee as they headed into the briefing room. It always felt strange to me, being in a building that should be buzzing with people during their off-hours, because it filled me with peace. I much preferred this than during peak hours.

  I followed the hallway until it spilled into the breakroom. If I continued down the hall, I would spill out into the lobby. If I chose to go straight, I’d be in the breakroom. Instead, I made a left. Property was nestled between the breakroom and CSI. It was handled by civilian officers rather than sworn officers, with a full-time lead and two full-time employees. Besides that, there were four part-time civilians who helped with menial tasks so the full-timers could handle the evidence.

  I had no idea what I was doing or even what my plan was. I just knew I wanted to see what evidence Derrick turned in.

  I wasn’t surprised to find the doors to property closed. Typically, property closed at five every evening. Only one person ran it at night, just in case sworn officers needed to turn in evidence or sign out evidence. Rita said they were trying to get another full-time body in property so they could add a swing shift rather than day shift, night shift, and filling in part-timers in between.

  Maybe Rita was working. Even though she was lead, she was known to take a night shift every now and then so her employees could have a night off. Whether that meant she would actually help me with what I was looking for was another thing. We were friendly, but she respected the rules and didn’t bend them, not even for her friends.

  “You’ll never know unless you ask,” I muttered to myself. “The worse they can say is no.”

  I knocked on the door before stepping back and waiting. I fiddled with the hem of my shirt, noticing a loose string. I itched to pull it even though I knew it would mess up the stitching.

  The door swung open and there was an unfamiliar albeit handsome face peeked out. He must be a rookie – and, judging by his shift, I’d assumed Rita got her third full-timer.

  “Hi,” he said, a shy smile on his lips. “Can I help you?”

  “Oh, um, yeah, hopefully.” I gave him what I hoped was a flirtatious look. I was never good at flirting and my face was even worse. “I heard that you’re the new guy. They wanted me to come check you out – I mean, they wanted me to check something out from evidence.”

  I inwardly cringed. Not because I was embarrassed for stumbling over my words on accident, but because this was all on purpose. Each word that came out of my mouth was supposed a strategy, one I didn’t like and thought I wasn’t very good at employing.

  If I knew I was going to have to do this, I would have gotten myself dressed up more. Maybe a tighter blouse that dipped low in my chest area, my worn, one and only push-up bra, and tighter skinny jeans. Hell, I might have actually thrown on more makeup while I was at it because I doubted that mascara and eyeliner was enough to really emphasize my natural beauty.

  “Oh, what department are you from?” he asked.

  The thing was, the rookie was good looking. With sandy brown hair, crystal blue eyes, and smooth tan, he was the perfect candidate to be more comfortable on a surfboard down at Newport rather than a light blue uniform that resembled an officer’s, but was distinguished as a civilian due to its color. He was also much younger than I expected him to be. I was going to guess early twenties because if I guessed any younger than that, I would throw up a little in my mouth because he would still be a baby.

  “Upstairs,” I said. “I’m Sergeant Winchesters EA.”

  I had no idea if he had met Kristi yet and knew that she and I were definitely not the same person. Plus, there was absolutely no reason for executive assistant’s to stay past six o’clock, even when there was a high-profile case such as this one going on.

  “Oh, I thought –“

  “There you are.” Without warning, Beech stepped around the rookie so he stood next to him, staring at me from across the desk. His dark eyes stared at me, a hardness about them that made me squirm internally.

  What the hell was Beech doing here? And why was he in evidence?

  “I thought I told you I was going to document the evidence of the Dunham case,” he continued. He was giving me a reason to be here; he was helping me out. And yet, I could not deny the accusatory glare coming from his person. He knew what I was doing and he definitely didn’t approve.

  “Oh, sorry.” I forced a laugh, waving my hand away. “I thought I would come down here and help. You’ve been down here for a while.”

  “I’ve been down here for five minutes, at best.”

  My eyes widened and I turned to the rookie, who seemed to be looking between me and Beech, hoping to make sense of what was going on between us.

  “It just, it feels like forever,” I said.

  Beech turned his head to look at the rookie and flashed him a smile. I managed to catch his name on his sliver tag. Brayden. It suited him.

  “When you have beautiful women missing you, you know you’re in the right profession, am I right?” He clapped Brayden on the shoulder. “Mind giving us a couple of minutes? You can take your fifteen in the break room. I just want to talk to my assistant here about specifics regarding an ongoing investigation. I just can’t have anyone not involved directly listen in, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, yeah, of course Mr. Beech, anything.” He nodded enthusiastically and stepped around the desk.

  When the door closed, Beech whipped his head around to face me, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked. “Were you… were you trying to flirt with him in order to get the evidence? You know that wasn’t going to work, right?”

  “And why not?” I asked. I shouldn’t be offended. I shouldn’t take anything Beech said seriously, especially when I was well-aware he was trying to do this to get a reaction out of me. “It seemed to be working before you popped up.”

  “Because you’re better than that.”

  I didn’t like the judgment in his tone. I shifted uncomfortable and brushed hair out of my face.

  “I’m trying to do my job,” I said, trying to keep my voice level, “and for some strange reason, you’ve been distant. I get you have your protocol to follow. I respect that. It’s just, we always work together. We exchange information. We help each other out. You get official credit. I get paid. But this case is different.”

  “Because if things get fucked up – and rape cases usually do – it’s on me. Not you.”

  He stepped towards me, trapping me in my position against the desk. I couldn’t move around Beech unless I touched him and the last thing I wanted to do was touch him. Not when he was so close to me. Not when he was looking at me with heavy, dark eyes I could lose myself in.

  “This way, I take full responsibility for anything that goes wrong.”

  I swallowed. Beech was… protecting me? That seemed strange and completely out of character.

  “I never asked you to protect me,” I said. My voice was supposed to come out stronger. Instead, it was quiet.

  He tilted his head and dropped
his eyes to my lips. “And you’ll never have to,” he said.

  It was suddenly hard to breathe. The case, the evidence, my anger at Beech vanished. All I could think about was how close he was and how good he smelled and how badly I wanted him to kiss me. And maybe I was completely reading the situation wrong, but I could swear he wanted to kiss me too.

  Whether that was a good idea or not, I didn’t know. Did it matter? I wanted it. He wanted it. We were alone. It was the perfect opportunity. No one had to know.

  Chapter 20

  I turned my head and stepped around Beech and moved from the desk. I didn’t know why I did it. I didn’t know why I distanced myself from Beech. There was some part of me that had wanted him to kiss me. And yet, if I allowed that, everything I just confessed to him would be a joke.

  Because the truth of the matter was, I wanted Beech to take me seriously. His opinion of me as a professional was the only one I cared about.

  Beech released a breath. I couldn’t tell if it was one of relief or something else. Instead of trying to figure it out, I forced myself to look at him. I needed to know what Derrick claimed to have turned in. Beech had ruined my chances at getting that information from the rookie civilian. I had to figure out another way.

  “I can’t give you the evidence, Chalmers,” Beech said, his voice low.

  A shiver slid down my spine as I imagined him using this voice in a completely different setting. His hand might trace the curves of my body before stopping on my hipbone as he looked deep into my eyes and told me I was his…

  I shook my head of the thought.

  “I’m sorry,” Beech said, misinterpreting my action as frustration at the fact that I couldn’t get the evidence for myself. “The only thing I can do is tell you what it is. Not because I need help, but because you need to know what you’re dealing with, who you’re working for.”

  I tilted my head to the side. The phone rang at that moment, causing me to jump. I nearly cursed at myself. Beech hadn’t even flinched. I didn’t like being so jittery, especially around him.

  “Eric isn’t the person you think he is,” Beech said, taking a step away from me. He reached behind him and pulled out his phone from his back pocket.

  “So what you’re telling me is you believe he raped her?” I asked, my voice cracking.

  I wasn’t sure what to make of this. I wasn’t sure if I was pissed at the fact that he thought Eric could be a rapist or if I was mad at myself for still being in denial that Eric was still the Eric I once knew and loved. However, the fact that Beech wasn’t so close to me gave me control of my faculties once again. I could breathe without my chest tightening up. I could think without a heavy fog clouding my judgment.

  “I don’t know what I believe,” he said. His fingers flew across his keyboard, his eyes staring at the screen. From where I stood, I could smell the strong scent of new coffee being made in the adjacent breakroom, and I made a note to myself to grab some on my way out. “But the evidence is making a compelling argument against him.”

  “Everyone keeps telling me about this evidence,” I said before I realized it. “What is this so-called evidence that’s so goddamn damning?”

  He rolled his eyes and then frowned. Cocking his head at me, he narrowed his dark eyes. “How do you know about the evidence?” he asked.

  “W-what?”

  “The only people who know about the evidence are myself, Rita – who signed it in – and the person who turned in the evidence who asked to be anonymous.” He paused, his fingers hovering above the keyboard. “How do you know about it?”

  Shit.

  I hated that Beech was too good at his job.

  “I may have talked to the person who turned the evidence in,” I said, my face contorted into a wince.

  “You what?” Beech’s voice was flat and he dropped his hands into his lap.

  “Look, I didn’t know there was evidence when I went to talk to Derrick Bender, okay?” I said quickly. “Ashley came into my office this afternoon and mentioned her ex. I don’t know why, but I thought I should follow up with him even though they’d been broken up for a year or so. I guess they were talking again because she left her jacket at his place and there was something in it. He wouldn’t tell me what, though. And I thought…”

  “You thought you could come to property and flirt your way into figuring out what it was.”

  “It wasn’t like I was going to sign out the evidence or take it,” I said. “I just wanted to know what it is. I wanted to figure out –“

  “You wanted to figure out if Eric did it or not,” Beech finished for me. He placed one hand on his hip and chewed his bottom lip. “Why are you so adamant that this guy didn’t rape her? We have evidence that they were together at least two nights.”

  “You got the tapes?” I asked, interrupting him. “So you saw his drink get spiked?”

  “Yes.” Beech loosed a breath through his flared nostrils. “But that doesn’t mean he was raped.”

  “What?” I slammed my hands on the counter. “Beech, by that logic, there’s no evidence she was raped that night either. The only thing you guys do have is them on video, his drink clearly being spiked, and you wouldn’t have gotten that evidence without me.”

  “Please. You know I would have gotten that tape eventually.”

  “Would you have? All you seem to care about is arresting him, building a case against him, not finding the truth.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Look.” I dropped my hands to my side and turned away from him, glancing at the framed pictures decorating the room. “I get you have lots of pressure on you from everyone. But what’s your problem with Eric Foresburg? It’s not like you know him personally. It’s not like you’re a hockey fan and hate him as a player. I’m sure you’re well-aware of all he does for the community. More than that, he brings in a bunch of revenue for the city simply by being on the team. Every time I’m at a game, even those middle games where they’re playing teams that don’t have big names are sold out. So what is it?”

  I glanced over my shoulder and tried to read his eyes. Whenever Beech and I were indoors somewhere, I always took advantage of the fact that he wasn’t wearing his aviator sunglasses. They were practically glued to his face otherwise, like a second pair of eyeballs. The glasses were like shields, protecting others from even attempting to read his eyes, to decipher what he was thinking. When he had to take them off, I jumped on the chance to read him.

  He was silent for a moment, looking at me, studying me. His lips were pressed into a thin line. He did that only when he wanted to keep himself from saying something he might regret or that might come out in a way that didn’t accurately reflect what he meant.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the two of you guys dated before?” he asked, leaning against the desk. “Why would you keep that from me, especially since you’re working the case?”

  I moved past him, rolling my eyes. “Who are you right now, Ashley Dunham?” I asked before I could stop it.

  “Ashley –“

  “Look, I don’t know why I didn’t tell you,” I said, cutting Beech off. “I haven’t told anyone. The only one who knows besides Eric, obviously, is my father.”

  “Your father?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “You typically introduce people you love and are serious about to your family.”

  He closed his eyes, frowning, and shook his head. “Wait,” he said. “Let me get this straight. You and Foresburg were in a relationship? Not just dating, but you –“

  “We lived together. We said I love you. We were talking about marriage.” I spun around to face him. “What more do you want to know, Beech? You’re poking and prodding into my personal life and –“

  “It’s relevant,” Beech said. He slapped the counter. I flinched. I hated that he wasn’t being aggressive towards me, and yet a sound like that could get under my skin and make me uncomfortable. Scared, even. I highly doubted if I did the same thing, Beech would be as affected.
“Unfortunately for you, it’s relevant. You would know Foresburg better than anyone. You could have written a statement –“

  “About his character?” I furrowed my brow, looking at Beech like he lost it. Because he had. “Eric and I broke up a couple of years ago. I don’t know him anymore, Beech.”

  “And yet, you took his case.”

  “Of course I did,” I said. “If I still looked at him like he was a significant part of my life, I would still be wrapped up in my past. This gave me an opportunity to prove to myself that I’ve moved on. That he has too.”

  “And have you?”

  Before I could answer that question, Brayden came back into the room with a coffee cup. He looked at me, then at Beech, then back at me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Am I interrupting anything? I can go.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the door. “My fifteen minutes were up though, and I didn’t want anyone to think I was slacking off. I love this job. I don’t want –“

  “You didn’t interrupt anything,” I said, offering him a gentle smile. “I should go. I think it’s time for me to clock out anyway.” I looked over at Beech and gave him a nod. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I wouldn’t, though. But Brayden didn’t need to know that.

  “Bright and early,” Beech said.

  I headed out of property, shaking my head to myself. My fingers shook and I didn’t know why. Between Beech almost kissing me and him asking if I’d moved on from Eric on top of finding this piece of evidence was a lot for me to take in.

  At least I could work with the evidence. At least that gave me something to do.

  At least Brayden had come in at that moment so I wouldn’t have to answer Beech’s question. At least Beech wouldn’t know that I had no idea if this case was proving I was over Eric… or proving I wasn’t.

  Chapter 21

  I walked out of the station in a hurry. I didn’t want Beech to have the chance to stop me, to demand an answer from me. I didn’t want to put myself in a situation I didn’t have control over. Beech could compel me to do almost anything, and I hadn’t realized that until being in property with him, looking into those eyes, and realizing I wanted him to kiss me.