by Sharon Sala
Someone must have had an accident. He pictured Jessie passing out cold on the floor of her manager’s office and looked back at the hedge. What if the gossip he’d been hearing had upset her so much that she’d tried to drive and passed out again? His mind was in turmoil as he pulled into her driveway.
Her car was in its usual place. He circled it on foot, breathing a slight sigh of relief. It was dent-free. If only Jessie could claim the same state.
He glanced up at her house. It was in total darkness. Being the cop that he was, he turned, surveying the surrounding area with a judgmental stare, searching for something…anything that might be out of place. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he went up the steps and knocked.
The sound was a muted thud against the backwash of neighborhood night sounds. A radio blared from a passing car. He heard a man’s angry voice and then the shrill, uneven cry of a woman returning the anger. The interchange reminded him of his last months with Naomi before their divorce. She’d gone from begging, to crying, and then screaming at him in fury, accusing him of putting his job before their lives. What she’d failed to understand was that his job was a part of who he was. He couldn’t have a life with a woman who wouldn’t let him be himself. And then he thought of Jessie. God help him, but even when he’d known it was futile, he’d let her get too far under his skin to forget. It was all he could do just to keep her at arm’s length.
Disgusted with himself and what he viewed as a weakness on his part, he knocked again, only this time, louder, calling out Jessie’s name as he did. All he got for his trouble was silence.
The tension of the moment was getting to him in a very big way. A fleeting image of Olivia Stuart laid out on that slab in the morgue came and went, along with the knowledge that Jessica’s life could be in danger if anyone was to believe the gossip on the streets.
Trying not to let his imagination run rampant, he reached for his lock pick. To his dismay, he came away empty-handed, and remembered tossing it on the dresser last night, right next to his gun just before he’d gone to bed. This morning, he’d picked up his gun. He didn’t remember seeing the lock pick at all.
“Damn it. Just when I need it most.”
He doubled his fist and pounded on the door. Somewhere within the house he heard a sound, not unlike the thud of an overturned chair. Frowning, he moved to a window and peered inside.
At first, he saw nothing. Then, down the hall and to the right, he saw a small, pencil-thin beam of light moving along the edge of the floorboard like the tip of a blind man’s cane.
Someone was in Jessie’s house!
He froze. What if her phone hadn’t been busy? What if a burglar had taken it off of the hook? Even worse, what if the hit woman had come to do away with the only witness to her crime? And that light! If it was Jessie, she wouldn’t be sneaking around in her own home in the dark. He ran back to the door and drew his gun, then kicked, centering his size-twelve boot right beside the lock.
The wood frame splintered, and the door swung open with a mighty slam. Something fell off the wall. Glass shattered as he bolted inside, his gaze fixed on the small beam of light. And when it suddenly dropped and rolled upon the floor, he got a highlighted glimpse of a foot and a leg as someone started to run.
He bolted toward the motion like a linebacker slipping through an unexpected hole in the defense, tackling the intruder knee-high and sending them both skidding down the hallway. The gun slid out of his hands and clattered against a nearby wall. Stone cursed beneath his breath. He had the runner. But he’d lost his gun.
A scream shattered his eardrum and someone kneed him hard in the groin. He gritted his teeth as pain shot through his body. Before he could think to react, he heard sirens and the sound of running feet. And then there were lights everywhere and he was looking down at the intruder he’d caught just as a man’s loud shout broke the silence.
“Police! Don’t move! We’ve got you covered!”
He groaned. He hadn’t caught a burglar. He’d caught Jessie. And from the expression on her face, she might just let the cops who’d come to her rescue cart him off to jail.
* * *
Jessica had been sound asleep, and with the next breath, wide awake, sitting up in bed and listening, trying to discern what it was she’d heard.
There! She heard it again. Someone was pounding on her door. After the day she’d had, there was no telling what nut had decided to come calling. And then she panicked. What if it was the hit woman, coming to get rid of the only witness to her crime? It was a dumb assumption, but she’d just awakened and hadn’t time to sort out the fact that hit women probably didn’t bother to knock.
Careful not to make her presence known, she started down the hall on bare feet, skipping the board to the left of the bathroom door. It sometimes squeaked. The urge to turn on the lights was overwhelming, but she felt safe from disclosure within the darkness, and crept into the living room.
The sound came again, only this time louder and more forceful. She reached for the phone, and then in a panic, she knocked over a chair as she bolted for her bedroom. At least there, she could talk without giving herself away. Once there, she squatted down beside her bed as she dialed the phone in the dark. Her heart was pounding, her hands trembling as a man’s calm voice echoed in her ear.
“This is 911. What is your emergency?”
Everything came out in a panicked whisper. “This is Jessica Hanson at 53 Broyles Lane. I think someone is trying to break into my house.”
“Are you alone in the house?”
“Yes. Please hurry,” she begged, and then jumped in fright as the pounding on her front door increased.
“Try to stay calm,” the dispatcher said. “Officers have been dispatched to your address. Where are you?”
“In the back of the house…in my bedroom.”
“Is there a place you can hide?” the dispatcher asked.
Jessica’s gaze swept around the room. “The kitchen. I can hide in the kitchen.”
The dispatcher was still talking as Jessica reached for the penlight in her bedside table and started back down the hall. She was listening to his orders, but moving within her own desperation. From where he was sitting, his advice might be sound, but from where Jessica was standing, it didn’t hold water. Instinct told her that the burglar would be inside long before a patrol car could ever arrive.
And she knew just where to hide. The space beneath her sink was large. Plenty large enough for her to crawl inside. The way she figured, it was the least obvious place in which a burglar would meddle. There wouldn’t be anything to steal beneath a kitchen sink, therefore they shouldn’t think to look there.
Her reasoning was sound, but her timing was off. She was halfway down the hall when her front door flew back against the wall. When glass shattered, she dropped the light and started to run.
Hit from behind, she fell screaming, flattened beneath an unbelievable weight before being rolled onto her back. Her knee came up, and she grunted in painful justification as she connected with a delicate part of her attacker’s anatomy. His hold tightened, and just as she was accepting her demise, she was suddenly blinded by a flood of lights. When she could see without blinking, she looked up, right into the disbelieving gaze of the man of her dreams. He rolled off of her with a groan.
“You!” she spluttered.
Officer Paul Turner was pumped. He’d caught the perp in the act. Everything had been crazy since the storm. It felt good to collar one bad guy on the spot. He aimed his gun in the cornered man’s face and shouted.
“Put up your hands! You’re under arrest!”
“Wait,” Stone said. “This is all a misunderstanding.”
Turner’s gun nudged the lob of Stone’s ear. “Don’t move!”
“I’m a cop,” Stone said. “My badge is in my jacket pocket!”
Jessica was promptly yanked to her feet and shoved out of the way by another officer. Wearing nothing but a thigh-length pink T-shirt and
a pair of briefs, she stood back, eyeing the situation with disbelief, while considering the wisdom of letting them haul Stone off just to prove a point. But then she thought of the consequences and changed her mind.
“He’s a friend,” Jessica said, and then she eyed her front door as the lights were turned on. “At least he was until he kicked in my door.”
Stone groaned as he rolled to his feet. “Why didn’t you answer? I thought you’d been hurt. Hell, I even thought you were a burglar.”
She glared. “Where is that famous lock pick you so ardently carry?”
His shoulders slumped. “I couldn’t find it.”
Both of the officers were starting to grin. “Hey, aren’t you Richardson from the detective division?”
Stone groaned. Talk about gossip. He was going to be the laughingstock of the department for years to come. He flashed his badge.
“She’s a friend.” He pointed toward Jessica’s head. “She was hurt during the blackout. When she didn’t answer her phone or her door, I got worried.”
“Yeah, when I go check on my girl, I always roll her on the floor before saying hello.” Officer Beamer snickered.
Turner guffawed, and then holstered his gun. “So, Miss…?”
“Hanson. Jessica Hanson.”
“You sure you’re all right with this?”
She nodded. “Yes. It was just as he said. All a misunderstanding.”
They both started toward the door when Beamer stopped and turned.
“Hey, aren’t you that woman who saved someone’s life this morning?”
At that point Jessica paled perceptibly, and Stone decided it was time to step in.
“Look, boys. I’d consider it a great big favor if you’d keep this to yourselves. You see how it’s upsetting her. The less said about it, the better.”
“Yeah, sure,” they both said. But Stone could tell by the gleam in their eyes that it would be all over the department before midnight.
“I’d owe you, big time,” he said.
They paused at the door and then turned. Turner grinned. “Sorry, Richardson, but you won’t make enough in your lifetime to pay out this debt.”
When they shut the door behind them, it hit the facing and bounced back like a dangling yo-yo swinging in the breeze. Stone groaned, and then turned. Within seconds, he had Jessie safe in his arms.
“I’m sorry. So sorry.” He carefully brushed the hair from her face, eyeing the healing stitches. “Tell me I didn’t hurt you when we fell.”
She looked up, her eyes swimming with tears, and knew then that the two years she’d absented herself from Grand Springs truly were all for nothing. She was hopelessly and desperately in love with this man.
“You didn’t hurt me when we fell.”
He groaned. “You’re lying through your sweet little teeth.”
Her gaze was fixed on his mouth, remembering what it felt like on her face—on her lips. Remembering how his breath felt on her eyelids—down the side of her neck—in her ear. She shuddered and swayed toward him.
“Am I under arrest?”
His heart was hammering against his ribs when he remembered why he’d come.
“Jessie…”
“Hmm?”
“What the hell happened to you today?”
Her face crumpled. “What do you think?”
“Did it happen again?”
She nodded.
He took her by the hand and led her to the couch. “Just a minute,” he cautioned, then took one of her dining room chairs and wedged it beneath the front doorknob to hold the door shut.
Jessica watched him moving around her living room as if he’d lived there all of his life. She was afraid to blink. Afraid that she’d wake up to realize that this was only a dream. And when he came back and plopped down beside her, she wanted to throw her arms around his neck and beg him to make it all go away. Instead, she waited for him to speak.
Stone gauged the depth of Jessie’s state of mind against his need to know.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded.
He covered her hand with his. “Then, tell me what happened.”
This friendly, cop-to-citizen behavior wasn’t what she’d wanted, but for now, it would be enough. She started talking.
Stone was still shaking his head in disbelief when she finished, and he leaned back on the couch with a sigh.
“And, I guess that’s about it,” Jessica said.
“Dang, Jessie, isn’t that enough?”
Her shoulders slumped, and she thumped herself on the head. “I don’t know how to turn this…this thing off.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pleading for understanding. “I don’t like it. I don’t want it. But I can’t bring myself to ignore what I see. Do you understand?”
His face mirrored his concern, and in a way, he supposed he also understood. But it was a hell of a time for her so-called “powers” to move into overdrive. He’d spent half the day making sure there were no leaks as to why an autopsy had suddenly been performed on a woman who’d been pronounced dead from a heart attack days ago. And now this. Because Jessie had seen an accident before it could happen, everything they’d done to protect her anonymity had been futile. And, there had been too many witnesses to this incident for her to ignore.
Jessica was getting nervous. Stone was too quiet. “So, do you think I’ve put myself in worse trouble?”
Sorry that his hesitation to answer had frightened her, Stone reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand.
“You did what you had to do, and I’m sure Tinee Bloom and her dog, Barney, are exceedingly grateful tonight.”
Jessica shivered at the touch of his hand against her face, and then stifled a yawn.
Stone smiled. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it, baby?”
If she hadn’t been so tired, she would have given him a piece of her mind. How dare he talk sweet to her now? Two years ago, he’d been the one to step back from commitment. He hadn’t trusted her enough to give them time, therefore, he no longer had the right to call her anything but Jessie. And then she sighed. Who was she kidding? From Stone, she would take anything he was willing to give. She looked away and then nodded. Yes, it had been a very long day.
Stone’s stomach growled, and he remembered his hamburger and fries in the seat of his car. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d eaten cold food, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“My supper is in the car. Mind if I use your microwave to heat it up?”
“Help yourself,” she said.
Stone moved the dining room chair aside and went out to his car, coming back moments later with a sack in his hand. At once, the familiar odor of fast food filled the room.
“Smells good,” Jessica said.
He grinned. “Didn’t you eat?”
She shook her head.
He handed her the sack. “Here, knock yourself out. I’ve got to lock up.”
Jessica took the sack and headed toward the kitchen as Stone shoved a chair back beneath the doorknob.
By the time he got to the kitchen, she’d pulled several bowls of leftovers from her refrigerator. Stone’s food was just coming out of the microwave. She handed it to him, then lifted a long, greasy fry from the plate and popped it into her mouth as he set the plate down on the table.
“What is in those?” he asked, curiously eyeing the size and assortment of dishes she was uncovering.
“Umm…” She took the lid off of one and peeked in. “This looks like some beef and broccoli stir-fry…and an egg roll,” she added, then set it aside. She popped the lid on another one. “This is goulash. I made it yesterday.” She looked up. “It’s actually quite good. Really!” She continued on down the line, flipping lids and poking into the contents with less and less interest. “Here’s some leftover fried chicken, and this one is… Huh! I thought this was all gone!” She showed him the bowl. “Spaghetti and meatballs.”
He looked down at his plate and then back at the bowls.
Jessica looked at her bowls, then down at his plate.
Their gazes met. Their eyebrows arched questioningly.
“Trade you,” they said in unison, and the deal was made.
Jessica reached for the ketchup and sat down at the table with Stone’s burger and fries, while he got another plate from the cabinet and began loading it up. Her leftovers became his buffet, and he heaped his plate with hungry anticipation, before heading toward the microwave.
They ate in total silence until they were down to the last couple of bites. Stone laid his fork on his plate and leaned back in his chair, more than a little surprised by what had occurred. He’d just shared a complete meal with a woman without saying a word, and couldn’t remember ever feeling as welcome, or as comfortable as he did right now.
“That was great,” he said quietly.
Jessica had an overwhelming urge to hug something, namely him. Instead, she took her dirty plate to the sink, gave it a quick rinse and then stuck it in the dishwasher.
Stone kept staring at the long, slender length of her legs poking out from beneath her pink T-shirt and wished to God he had the right to take off the shirt and take her to bed. But he’d given up that—and everything else she’d been willing to offer. As he leaned forward, the thought crossed his mind that he could have been wrong two years ago. And then he remembered Naomi and the hell they’d gone through and shoved the thought aside as nothing more than a momentary weakness.
Yet, as he watched her work, he noticed that she kept glancing out the window over the sink, as if trying to see through the dark. He frowned. Thanks to his big foot, she didn’t have a lock on her door. He knew she was going to be afraid.
“Uh, Jessie, about your front door. It will be tomorrow before I can have it fixed, so maybe I should spend the night here. What do you think?”
She shut off the water and turned.
There was a smile on her face that made Stone nervous.
She leaned against the counter, her voice low and sultry.
“I think you’re a genius,” she said. “And I will feel so much safer knowing there’s a cop in the house.”
