Recharged

by Lulu Pratt

  Which begged the fucking question — what was Tom doing here?

  “Dylan,” the older man addressed me, before I could launch a barrage of questions myself. “What’s going on?”

  I gulped. “I was leading Zoe through the lineup, like I told you about.”

  “I thought that was scheduled for tomorrow morning. When the building was open,” he added to underscore his meaning.

  I didn’t miss the implication, but I also wasn’t taking the bait. “Well, I thought it might be more convenient for her to do it after bakery hours, considering how much work it’s going to take for her to get the place back in shape. I was just trying be of assistance.”

  His brows raised, and I knew he’d seen through the gambit. Whatever position Zoe and I had been in when that door began to open, we hadn’t broken free of it fast enough. My head drained of all words that weren’t filthy curses.

  “Ma’am,” Tom said, turning to address Zoe. “Officer Robertson and I have more work to do on your case. Work we can’t do while you’re here.” That last sentence was unabashedly pointed, and if I hadn’t been so embarrassed, I might have fought back.

  “Sure, of course, I understand,” she rushed to get out.

  “Okay,” he returned. “Then you can wait out in the lobby. You seem to be pretty familiar with… the building… so I assume you’ll manage to find your way back there.”

  “M-hmm, yes sir, absolutely sir. I’ll be on my way.” She bobbed her head up and down, and without further ado, crammed past me, past Tom and out into the hallway. My body ached with regret.

  A moment of silence passed as Tom and I waited for her to be out of earshot. Her footsteps quickly growing quieter and quieter. Finally, I took a few paces out of the viewing room, and shut the door behind me. We were alone in the hallway, and I could see Tom trying to modulate his attitude into something more professional, less parental.

  “Just say it,” I blurted out.

  “Say what?” Tom asked, playing dumb — not like him.

  “Whatever you’re going to say about Zoe, and this whole, whole… situation. Spit it out.”

  Another beat, and he replied, “Kid, I’m happy to see that you’re even considering other women.”

  “Who said I’m considering them?” Now I was playing dumb. Why couldn’t we just talk about this like grown men? Although I was pleased he wasn’t going for the work lecture just yet.

  He inclined his head to me, and from beneath those heavy lids shot out a look that suggested it would be unwise to trifle with him.

  “Like I said,” he continued, “I’m happy for you. But you know better than to get involved with a person whose case you’re working on. It doesn’t end well.”

  “Tom—”

  “And I know you know better because I taught you, and I’m the best.”

  I smiled a little at his weak joke. It didn’t make the medicine any easier to swallow.

  “It’s just,” I faltered, “it’s been so long. I miss… her… and I miss company, I miss love, I miss a fellow parent. I can’t stand being alone for much longer. And Zoe, I mean if you got to know her, Tom, you’d adore her. She’s an old soul, and sure she comes from the city, but she’s salt of the earth. You know?”

  “I know, kid. Love ain’t easy. Don’t make it worth missing, but it’s a bumpy ride. And anybody else, Dylan, any other woman would kill to have you. It just can’t be this one.”

  “Why not?” I pressed. “What if she’s the only I want?”

  “It can’t be her,” he said quietly, “because while it’s a generally bad idea to date someone whose case you’re assigned to, it’s an especially bad idea to get involved with a potential suspect.”

  “What?!” I started back, bumping my wide shoulders into the door frame. I was shocked. Did I hear that correctly? No, it couldn’t be, I must be losing my mind. That was the only rational explanation. It was impossible, no matter which way you sliced it. Zoe? A suspect? Never. I wanted to say, or scream, all these thoughts, but what came out was only a repetition of my first exclamation.

  “Uh, what?”

  Tom’s thumbs slid through his belt loops, and he let out a deep, world-weary sigh.

  “Yeah, kid,” he said, chewing the words as if they were tobacco. “‘Course she is. Use your head. A woman with piles of debt is robbed, thereby triggering insurance coverage? Don’t that sound a mite suspicious to you? We gotta at least investigate.”

  “But she’s innocent,” I declare with no trace of doubt. “She was with us the entire day and what happened with us arresting her could not have been planned. Being pulled over for a broken brake light and then an expired license doesn’t happen every day. There is no way she could have snuck off in the middle of all this and robbed her own place. Let’s face it, most people don’t commit crimes while they are with the police.”

  “Dylan, she might have had an accomplice. Someone willing to do the crime for a slice of the proverbial pie. How well do you know this woman? You don’t know that she’s innocent, Dylan.”

  “Fine,” I replied, huffier than usual. “We’ll investigate her. Are you satisfied?”

  “That’s the spirit.” He unhooked his thumbs and rocked back on his heels. “I best be headin’ home now, but you hang back and finish up the paperwork for the lineup.” Pause. “Which, incidentally, is in no way protocol.”

  “I know, sir.” It pained me to admit it, but he was dead right on every count. Sometimes debating with Tom felt like debating a mountain — impossible and frustrating. Though Zoe was innocent, and I was ready to go toe to toe with him on that count for days if necessary.

  “I’ll be seein’ you,” he said with the customary tip of his hat — which he never took off, even after work hours. With that, Tom exited the hallway, and based on the echo of a slamming door, the building. I was left in silence, prey to my own thoughts, which threatened to eat me alive.

  It was gonna be a late night. The filing associated with calling a lineup was immense, and I groaned internally at the thought of putting pen to paper. I trudged to my desk, plopped into the seat, and twiddled my thumbs. Time to call my mother, who I knew full well would not be pleased.

  I picked up the landline, punched the speed dial, and rang my mom. She picked up in less than two rings, she probably recognized the station’s number better than I did.

  “You gonna be late?” she asked without hesitation. Poor Ma, she’d learned the drill awful fast.

  “Yeah. My own fault. I did something a little, um, stupid.”

  “Okay,” she returned. “You’ll tell me when you get home.”

  How would I explain that I’d broken procedure to, if I was being honest, potentially impress a young woman who I couldn’t possibly get involved with? I shelved this worry, deciding it was a problem for Future Me. Best of luck to that sorry son of a gun.

  “Will do, Mom. Could you put Danny on the line?”

  “Sure, just wait a sec.”

  I heard her drop the receiver, and call out, ‘Danny!’ The sound of little feet running — well, stumbling — full tilt across wooden floors was audible.

  A little puff of breath came across the phone, breath intermingled with static. “Dada?” it queried.

  “Hey, Danny boy,” I said with a tired smile I knew he couldn’t see, but hopefully could hear coloring my voice. “Papa’s gonna be working late, so I won’t be home to tuck you in. But Grandma will give you a goodnight kiss at bedtime, and I’ll give you another whenever I get back.”

  My son gurgled merrily, and my chest ached with love for every inch of his chubby body, for the thin hair that ringed his head. Fatherhood had repositioned my heart to beat outside of my own body.

  Mom got back on the phone, and we said our ‘I love you’s’ and ‘good night’s.’ I turned back to my slogging work.

  I was on page thirteen of a twenty-page form when my cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Zoe. Did this mean she’d saved my number from the other night? I was
mildly flattered at what was, in truth, a rather unremarkable fact. This is normal, I told myself. You’re the officer on her case. Of course she’d keep your phone number.

  Need coolant for radiator. Stuck at the gas station on Main. Could you please please bring some? Very desperate.

  My mind raced as I thought over the text. Was I her new emergency contact? I wasn’t sure I was ready. And since when had she got her car back? Yet another text.

  Got car from impound. Guys didn’t take care of it. Sensitive old car. Station store closed. Plz bring coolant.

  Well, fuck. If Zoe said jump, I’d damn well jump.

  CHAPTER 14

  Dylan

  It took me just minutes to get to the gas station.

  I kept coolant in the back seat, because this was Wisconsin. No more explanation should be necessary. When I pulled up, I found a shivering Zoe, wearing only a thin sweater. What was she thinking?

  I parked, hopped down from the cab and walked to Zoe.

  “Hey,” I called out.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought the coolant,” I replied. Was she being sarcastic?

  “Huh? Why?”

  If this was her idea of a joke, she needed to take some improv classes, the delivery as all wrong.

  I came to a halt. “Zoe, you asked me to come.” I pulled out my phone, tapped on the buttons, and held it up to her face. Whatever, at the time it felt crucial to prove that I wasn’t being a crazy stalker. “Here are the messages.”

  “Oh, no,” she groaned, smacking her forehead. “Shit, I’m so sorry, like, couldn’t be sorrier, fuck. I meant to text that to Mina, the woman you met this morning.”

  I deflated. Back at the station, even though I was fairly surprised that she’d thought to contact me, the ride over had given me time to see it as a privilege, not a responsibility. I had promised to help her however possible, and sometimes that meant lugging coolant across town. In other words, I’d come to see the text as yet another opening salvo to a potential night of fun.

  This discovery that I was not the intended recipient put a damper on my heroics.

  “That’s okay,” I said, managing a steady tone, attempting to salvage what was quickly becoming a very awkward situation. “But I’m here now, and I do have the coolant. You want?”

  She rubbed her arms and nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, please. And again, I’m so sorry to bother you, I really wasn’t trying to be a burden. Especially after all you’ve done for me.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m at your beck and call.” I punctuated this with a small bow, in case the words came off as too intense. I worried about scaring her off. “I’ll just go fetch the stuff and be right back.”

  I raced back to my truck. The sight of her, I’d quickly realized, gave me an adrenaline rush. But now, after we’d come so close tonight — to doing what, I daren’t say — even the mere glance at her body made my muscles swell. Especially the unmentionable ones. It was freezing cold, but inside, I was on fire.

  Looking at her had almost erased my conversation with Tom, though I found it hard to paint over the part about her being a suspect. Did I really care about that, though, when I felt so sure she was innocent? God, he was right. Love was hard fucking business. Live in the moment, I instructed myself. And for heaven’s sake, get her the damn coolant.

  Right. My very purpose for being here. I startled abruptly from my internal monologues, grabbed the coolant and once again crossed the station lot. The liquid sloshed around inside the jug, and I thought it was an apt musical accompaniment to the sloshing nerves in my stomach.

  “Here you go,” I said, passing the jug over. “Do you know how to do it?”

  She rolled those gorgeous eyes, and replied, “Of course. You know it gets cold in New York too, right? Wisconsin isn’t the only place with four seasons.”

  I scoffed. “What you call winter we call a hot summer’s day.”

  “But on the other hand, we got hurricanes.”

  “Pfft, hurricanes? Child’s play.” Remembering my initial thought upon arrival, I added, “Speaking of which, city princess, where’s your jacket?”

  She rubbed her pale arms, replying, “Left it at work. I was just a total space cadet today, and I was in a rush to get to the lot and—”

  “It’s okay,” I interjected. “We’ll get the car running in no time. ’Til then,” I pulled my jacket off, and arranged it around her shoulders, “stay warm.”

  She snuggled into the jacket, pulling it closer. She looked like a cheerleader, swathed in her football boyfriend’s letterman jacket.

  “Thanks,” she said. “Though you’ve really gotta stop giving me this thing.”

  “It looks better on you anyways.”

  She grinned. “But don’t you get cold?”

  “I’m sure we can find some way of keeping me warm,” I returned.

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Come on, let’s go fix this stupid fucking car.”

  She tried to grab the coolant from my hand, but I shook my head and walked over with her to the car.

  The car had seen better days — possibly in the seventies. Zoe had popped the hood sometime before my arrival, and now moved to the front. She leaned over the vehicle and poured the mixture in. I regretted offering her help earlier, this woman seemed to know her way around a vehicle.

  “I’m sorry to say it, but the car might be toast,” I uttered.

  “I know, I know, and I know it’s not really the lot’s fault,” she griped. “But don’t say it, that’s bad luck. Besides, this is what was wrong with the car the last time something like this happened. Hopefully, it hasn’t developed a new problem.”

  “That’s some New York thinking,” I replied. “Out here, we don’t got luck, we have hard work and whiskey.”

  “In the engine?” she joked. She finished pouring out the coolant and stood up. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Zoe tossed me the keys, and continued, “Get in and see if she’ll start up.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I scooted into her car and attempted to rev the engine. Once, twice, a third time. Nada.

  “Is it working?” she shouted from underneath the hood.

  “Sorry, not taking.” But she already knew that. “I don’t think it’s the coolant. I think you might have another problem.”

  “Fuck me,” she muttered. Gladly, I wanted to reply. I heard her deliver a swift kick to the undercarriage of the car and call it some colorful words.

  “Hey,” I called back, “treat her nicely and maybe she’ll cooperate.”

  “Doesn’t that qualify as believing in luck?”

  “Nah, it qualifies as treating a lady right.”

  Ignoring my suggestions, Zoe gave the car a few more kicks and curses. At last, she relented and loudly replied, “I think it’s a goddamn goner.”

  “Too late to call a tow company,” I returned.

  I exited the driver’s seat, pacing a few steps until I was hovered over the popped hood with Zoe. I was now bare-armed, and Zoe, dressed in my jacket, lightly rubbed up against me. During the day, I’d noticed that the jacket had adopted some of her smell, as though it had mingled into the lining. Our scents mixed nicely, mint and woodsy undertones with citrus top notes.

  “You need a ride?” I offered. “‘Fraid there won’t be any other trucks coming by here for a while that might help you out.”

  She lifted a pair of stormy green eyes to my face and sighed. “I think I do need a ride. I’ll text Mina, she’s usually up late. Thanks for all your help, I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

  I scoffed. “You think I’d drive out here, and leave you stranded in the middle of the night with no working car? In the middle of winter? For shame. That’s no code of conduct for a man. I’ll get you home.”

  “Is that a good idea?” she asked quietly.

  “What do you mean?”

  Her look was reproachful. “You know exactly what I mean.”

  And I di
d. Deny it as I might, I understood what she was getting at. As her officer, it was a bad idea. Not to mention, she didn’t — and if I had my druthers, never would — know about technically being a suspect. On top of all that, it was unclear if my heart had mended enough to let another person in.

  “I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea,” she murmured.

  I respected her boundaries, understanding that the concerns were legitimate. “Listen,” I said, “it’s cold as shit, we absolutely don’t have to… you know. I can just give you a ride home.”

  “Really?”

  “Zoe, of course. I’d be happy to.”

  “And what if,” she whispered, so softly I could barely hear it, “what if I change my mind, and want to?”

  Leaning in close, I replied in a low voice, “I’d be very much obliged if you could alert me to that.”

  “Okay.”

  “So, would you like a ride home, no strings attached?”

  Silence. At last, she shook her head. “You’re right. I couldn’t possibly wait out here alone.”

  Playing along, I chimed in, “Of course not.”

  I watched her face shift from reservation to acceptance, and my pulse skipped.

  “Okay,” Zoe said. “Take me home.”

  I gestured with an open arm to my car, and replied, “Your chariot awaits.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Zoe

  Okay, confession time.

  I knew I hadn’t texted Mina. I’d just wanted to see if Dylan would come.

  Only, I wasn’t actually expecting him and his brown hair and blue eyes to show up in the night, in the snow. But I could not for the life of me get a handle on Dylan. Was he being helpful because he was now my police officer, or because he wanted to fuck my brains out? One minute he’d be all polite and reserved, and the next, he’d be wrapping his hands around my waist or almost leaning in for a kiss. It was like he couldn’t make up his fucking mind — and yeah, I know it’s the pot calling the kettle black.

  And even just then, talking about getting a lift, I wasn’t sure where we stood. Did he want this? Did he want me? I thought I knew the answer, but God, I couldn’t say with any certainty. All I could say for sure was that Dylan was driving me home. Besides that? Anybody’s damn guess. I suppose it was time for me to fucking live a little and stay in the moment.