by Style, Linda
He reached over and stroked Crista’s cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “In every way.”
He watched her stretch like a lazy cat. “Even though you don’t know me in every way, I’ll take the compliment.” She smiled with contentment. “And no matter what I look like, I feel wonderful.”
“Me, too. I feel better than ever.” Alex stretched out on the bed, rolling over, half on top of Crista again, his mouth close to hers. “I could get used to this.”
“Used to what?”
“You. Having you around. I like the idea.”
A frown creased her smooth forehead. “Some ideas sound better than they actually are.” Her tone of voice teased, but her expression seemed serious. She held his gaze, traced his lips with her fingertips. “Hey,” she said. “I don’t want you to think you have to reassure me that it was anything more than sharing a wonderful night together.” She pulled to a sitting position and hugged her knees.
Alex sat up next to her, feeling the sting behind her words. He drew his head back. “Are you saying this was just a night of physical pleasure and we should leave it at that?”
“I’m saying it was a wonderful night. We don’t need to think about anything more than that.”
He gritted his teeth. “Someone must have hurt you badly,” he said. “So much, you have to convince yourself that our being together was just a fun night.”
Her eyes darkened. “If it was anything more, I’d know it.”
He’d seen the wariness in her eyes the second he started getting close. But he’d thought he’d gotten beyond that wall, if even just a little. “Okay. I guess we’ll just have to have different views on that then.”
“What do you mean?”
“It was more than just sex to me. You can tell yourself it wasn’t, but that doesn’t change my belief. I care about you. And I wouldn’t be here in this bed if I thought it was nothing more than a physical encounter. I wouldn’t have asked you to join me and Sam for the weekend if I didn’t think there was potential for a serious relationship between us.”
She drew her gaze from his and lowered her chin, fiddling with a thread on the quilt. “I…have feelings for you, too, Alex. But I’m also a realist. I know it would never work between us. We’re too different. We want different things.”
His nerves bunched. “I think we want the same things, but you’re afraid to admit it.”
Her brows came together in a puzzled expression. “I’m not afraid to admit anything if it were true. But the fact is, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Crista was afraid, but not for the reasons he thought. She was afraid of making the wrong decision. Afraid of opening herself up to a world of hurt. It was easier not to fall in love than it was to deal with the aftermath when love turned bad. And it was preordained that this would.
She drew a deep breath. Easier not to fall in love. Wasn’t that ridiculous? It was too late for that. She was already in love with Alex. But the worst thing for her to do would be to act on her shaky emotions.
Alex moved from the bed, picked up his hastily discarded clothes and started dressing. “I’ve got to get Sam off to school in a couple hours. Why don’t we talk about this later. Tomorrow night, maybe.” He glanced at his watch and gave a lopsided grin. “I guess that’s tonight since it’s already after midnight.”
As much as Crista wanted to see him, she knew it was the wrong decision. God knew, she wanted a relationship with him, wanted it more than anything, but wanting something that badly could only destroy them both. “I’m sorry. I have to work.”
“Then tomorrow night?”
Her throat felt dry and scratchy and it was hard to get out the words. “I can’t. I need to put all my energy into solving the case. And if I don’t do it soon, I probably won’t have a job to worry about.”
Alex buttoned his shirt and then tucked the tails into his jeans. “Why do you say that?”
“Because.” She turned to sit on the edge of the bed facing the wall. “The captain has told me if I don’t have something concrete soon, he’s going to take me off the case. It would be a black mark on my record.”
She couldn’t tell him the rest, that she thought getting rid of her had been the captain’s plan all along. She couldn’t tell him that she was thinking of filing a grievance for gender bias, because she knew Alex would never understand.
“That doesn’t seem right. Some cases take longer to solve than others. Right?”
“Yes, but since the mayor has made it a priority, the captain is under the gun. He thinks I’m not doing enough and he has someone in mind to take over from me.”
Alex’s face hardened. “That’s ridiculous. Are you sure?”
His reaction surprised her. “Of course I’m sure. He told me as much.”
“Okay, I’ll talk to the mayor and see if he’ll get the captain to let up.”
Crista’s stomach knotted. She prided herself on doing her job well without others running interference for her. The idea that Alex thought he could simply take care of things for her was another example of how different they were. She bolted from the bed, holding the sheet around her like a sarong. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
He frowned. “Why not?”
Because if she accepted Alex’s help, she’d be proving the captain right, and she’d be showing not only the captain, but everyone else in the unit that she couldn’t handle the job on her own. “It’s important that I do this myself.”
“That’s silly.”
“Excuse me?” Crista was astonished. “Are you saying that having pride in my work and wanting to prove I can do the job is silly?”
“No, I’m saying that not accepting help when you can use it is silly. Being self-sufficient is admirable, but it can work against you sometimes.”
“Maybe. But in this case, taking your help would undermine everything I’ve worked for. It would undermine who I am.”
Alex pressed his lips together tightly. He slipped his jacket on and walked over to where she stood still holding the sheet. Placing his hands on her bare arms he said, “Why don’t you get some rest. Things will look differently in the morning.”
If only they would. But she knew better.
ALEX DROVE HOME feeling as if he’d done something wrong, but he wasn’t sure what. It seemed as if all the good feelings they’d shared over the weekend disappeared once he’d mentioned talking to the mayor. Or was it when he’d said he could get used to having her around? How could that be wrong? How could helping her be wrong? Maybe she was right when she’d said they were too different.
When he’d asked her to join them for the weekend, he’d hoped their friendship might become more than that. And he’d thought it had. Entertaining the idea of a relationship with Crista or with anyone meant he had to think about whether there was a future with that person. He wasn’t going to allow his daughter to get attached to someone who was just a passing fancy. He’d assumed any woman he’d fall in love with would want a home and family and that would be enough. But he was wrong. He’d fallen in love with Crista—and Crista talked as if her job was a lifetime career.
Reaching home, Marissa’s home that had become his when she died, he pulled into the garage and quietly went inside, careful not to make any noise. Since the shooting, he’d been sleeping with one ear open and he figured Elena probably did the same.
If he went to bed now, he could get a couple hours of sleep before Sam got up. But an hour later he was still thinking. Random thoughts. Thoughts about Marissa and Crista and the future. Marissa never had any qualms about accepting his help and he’d always thought her a strong woman. She liked having someone take care of her, and she’d liked taking care of their home and family. She shared his values and beliefs and those were the things that had first drawn them to each other.
But that was Marissa’s personality, he realized. It wasn’t Crista’s. He’d realized the first day he met her that Crista was unlike any woman he’d ever known. H
e’d been intrigued by her self-sufficiency and candor, her ability to make him laugh. Yet he’d sensed a wariness behind the bravado—a private pain that tugged at all his protective instincts.
She was different, and those differences were what had drawn him to her. He liked everything about her, including that she was protective of the people who were important to her.
He’d seen her vulnerable side, too. The side that said she wasn’t going to let herself feel too much. The side that said she couldn’t trust her own feelings, and because of that, she’d closed the door to the possibility of love. And marriage.
But who was he to talk? He wasn’t sure he could trust his own feelings, much less hers. He’d fallen in love with Crista without thinking of anyone but himself and his own needs. He’d simply assumed Crista would feel the same. What an ass he was.
Crista deserved an apology. He should have respected how important her job was to her. Instead, he’d been upset because she hadn’t responded in the way he’d expected.
He picked up the phone and dialed her number. After five rings, the message machine clicked on and he remembered she’d turned off the ringer so they wouldn’t be disturbed. “Crista, this is Alex,” he said. He hated to leave a message, but wanted her to know right away what an idiot he was. “I’m calling to apologize for being such an ass. When I suggested helping you, I was only thinking of what I could do for you. I didn’t think about how you might feel about it. I’m sorry. Please accept my apology.”
LYING IN BED listening to the tenderness in his voice, Crista felt as if her heart might crack in two. Alex was a prideful man, one who believed his way was the right way. She knew his intentions were honorable, but she’d reacted on instinct because she’d felt threatened. How stupid was that?
And when she thought of how much it must have taken for him to call and apologize, she wanted to crawl in a hole and stay there.
She still remembered what Alex had told her not long after they met—that if he were ever to marry again, Sam would be the most important consideration.
He wanted a traditional wife, a stay-at-home mother for Sam. She wasn’t that person.
Early the next morning, Crista drove to the Pierce Elevated. She’d spent far too much time worrying about personal issues and not enough time trying to solve the case. Her goal today was to find Tommy.
Driving off the freeway and onto the service road underneath, Crista found a spot, parked her Jeep and stepped out. She glanced at a man sleeping on the ground a couple yards away. He was covered with newspapers for warmth, and she wondered why when there were shelters available, some people refused to take advantage of them. Walking farther down under the bridge, she saw a ragtag group of people huddled around a large barrel with a bonfire inside, tossing in whatever they could find to keep the fire going. Their clothes were tattered and dirty, and some had strips of fabric tied around their hands to keep them warm through Houston’s uncharacteristically cold winter.
Her gaze darted, searching for an eleven-year-old boy.
“No, no, no!” a woman’s voice rang out. Crista spun around. Near the column on the other side of the bridge, she saw a scuffle, the flash of a uniform and someone attacking a police officer. Crista ran to help, drawing her gun as she went. As she came closer, she saw that the officer was a woman, and it seemed that instead of subduing the person, the officer was warding off the blows. Crista leveled her gun. “Stop or I’ll shoot!” she yelled. But the person kept swinging…and, ohmygod…the officer was Abby. Abby Carlton.
In an instant, Crista was on them. She pulled the attacker away from Abby and threw him to the ground, knocking her friend backward in the process. Abby stumbled and fell. Using her own body weight, Crista held the person down and wrenched both of his arms back. It was only when she was cuffing him that she realized Abby’s attacker was a woman.
“Abby. Are you okay?” Crista shouted. Keeping her weight on the woman, she glanced over to where Abby had fallen.
“I’m okay. Don’t hurt her.” Abby scrambled toward Crista. “She doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
Crista stared incredulously at her friend. Abby had scratches on her face and she was visibly shaken. “I’m sorry,” Crista said. “It looked to me like she knew exactly what she was doing. And seeing her attacking an officer, she’s lucky I didn’t take her out.”
Abby knelt next to Crista. Reaching out and brushing the woman’s cheek, she said softly, “It’s okay, Janie. No one is going to hurt you.” Abby turned to Crista. “She’s off her meds.”
Suddenly the woman snarled like a wild animal and her head lunged forward as if she was going to take a bite of Abby’s hand. Abby jerked back, her dark eyes round with surprise.
“I’d say she doesn’t want your help.” Crista stood, then held out a hand to assist Abby.
“I know what it looks like, but she’s not in any condition to decide what she wants.”
Crista hadn’t talked to Abby since Risa’s investigation and seeing her today sent an enormous wave of regret through her. How could she have let all her friendships go? The longing to have her friends back suddenly felt overwhelming. But if she wanted things to change, Crista knew it was she who had to take the first step.
“Are you taking her in?” Crista asked. “I’ll help you get her to your car.”
Abby knelt down again. “Are you okay, Janie? I can help you if you’ll let me.” Janie didn’t answer.
“Nothing’s changed, I see.”
Abby glanced up at Crista. “What do you mean?”
Petite Abby Carlton looked like the all-American girl. The cheerleader in high school. The homecoming queen. But Crista knew different. Abby hadn’t had it easy at all.
“You’re still trying to save the world.” Crista hoped Abby would take the comment as lightly as it was intended. She handed Abby the keys to the handcuffs.
Shoving a lock of brown hair from her eyes, Abby inadvertently smeared dirt across her scratched cheek. She smiled uncertainly. “Yes, I am. One person at a time.”
While Abby calmed the woman, Crista realized how much she admired Abby’s strong beliefs, the strength of her convictions. Though Crista and their other friends thought Abby had been crazy to give up everything she’d worked for when she left the academy, Abby had done what she believed in. She’d been brave enough to leave the academy for love and she hadn’t been too proud to come back when it didn’t work out. Crista wondered if the experience was worth it.
Maybe she’d do well to take a lesson from Abby. Open herself to the possibilities of love and see what might happen. It wasn’t the end of the world if it didn’t turn out, was it? Abby had come out of it just fine, maybe she was even stronger.
It only took a few minutes for Abby to calm Janie, and together Abby and Crista helped the woman up, one on each side, and walked her to Abby’s squad car.
“I’m going to remove the handcuffs, Janie, but before I do, I want you to give me your word that you’ll be good.”
The woman’s chin dropped to her chest, as if she was now ashamed of what she’d done.
“Okay?” Abby prompted.
The woman nodded. “Okay. I’ll be good.”
With that, Abby settled Janie into the back seat of her car, took Crista’s keys, removed the cuffs and closed the door.
“Thanks, Crista. We’ll be fine now. I’m going to take her to the shelter, get her cleaned up and see if I can do something about her meds.”
“Does she have a case worker? They usually handle those things, don’t they?” Law enforcement encountered problems with the mentally ill all the time, and a good percentage of the homeless had some kind of mental disability. If the person received medical assistance from the state, a case worker usually helped with medications and life skills.
“So,” Abby said, ignoring the question, “I’m surprised to see you here. What’s up?”
“A lead on a homicide. A drive-by.”
“Maybe I can help. I’m down here a
lot.”
“I’m trying to find a boy named Tommy Ramirez.”
Abby shook her head. “Haven’t heard the name. And there aren’t many youngsters here. Maybe you should check a family shelter.”
“Maybe. But I’ll ask around here anyway. Someone may know him.”
“Over there.” Abby pointed to a man sitting on a wooden box near the fire. “That’s Horatio, and he knows everyone. Tell him I suggested you talk to him. He knows me.”
Janie suddenly started banging on the window. “I— I need to go,” Abby said and opened the driver’s door. Halfway inside, she stopped, looked wistfully at Crista and said, “It was really nice seeing you, Crista. I wish…” She hesitated for a second and then said, “I wish things were different.”
Crista didn’t know what to say. If Abby wanted things to be different, why had she been so remote? Nothing would happen if they all sat back and waited for the other person to make the first move. “Me, too.” Crista said with a smile. “So let’s do something about it.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued, as if neither knew where to go from there.
Janie started making more racket, and Abby said, “I really do have to go.”
“Sure,” Crista said. “I understand.”
Crista felt a lump in her throat as she watched Abby drive away, and her longing for her friends kicked up another notch. Just then, a ruckus broke out near the fire and two men started yelling at each other. Crista hurried over and flashed her shield. “What’s going on guys? Someone got a problem?”
Both men stared at her, then backed away as if she were the devil himself.
Crista looked at the man named Horatio. “Hello,” she said, showing her badge again. “I’m Detective Santiago.”
The man had a scraggly gray beard and motley long hair. His skin was leathery and his ragged layers of clothing reeked of body odor and urine. He appeared to be in his late sixties, but she suspected hard living made him look older than he was.
