by Unknown
“Oh, shut up.”
Brody held his hands up and returned to his chair, moving it back underneath his desk and, with fingers she had recently learned weren’t just calloused but talented, placed a bunch of paper from one perfectly piled stack, picked up his pen, and with it traced each and every line of miniscule print covering the length of letterhead, as he ignored her existence.
Sunshine had yet to push open the door and walk away, instead she stood there, contemplating what he’d said. What she felt. She wasn’t a person to be shy, yet around him something felt different, but in three steps she crossed the space between them, grabbed the back of his chair and to his surprise pulled it out from underneath the desk.
“Mr. Jensen,” she sat down in his lap, placed an arm around his neck, and let the tip of her finger trace the name engraved in the metal tag decorating his chest, “you decided to peel my clothes off. I think it’s only fair to return the favor.”
“Listen—” Brody sucked in a deep breath, placed his hand over her finger circling the badge below his name tag, and opened his mouth in response.
“Your mouth was talented.” Sunshine’s breath touched his lips. “Aren’t you at least a little bit intrigued what mine can do?”
As she breathed in his shaky exhale, a knock on the door killed any possible spark between them.
“Yes,” said Brody, his voice smaller than she remembered.
The door pushed in and a woman with brown hair grinned at them both.
“Mel.” Brody stood quickly, forcing Sunshine off his lap, readjusting his tie again, straightening the starched fabric of his pants, and held out a hand for a welcoming handshake with the stranger.
“Melanie, Sunshine.” He gestured back without looking at Sunshine. “Sunshine, Melanie.” He breathed in heavily and rested his hands on his narrow hips, holding his belt, cuffs, and his 45. “How can I be of service?”
Melanie held up a hand and grinned at Brody. “Oh, it seems like you’re already in service as it is, my friend. I’ll catch you later.”
“No, no.” Brody shook both his hands in defense. “Not at all, was there anything you wanted, really. Please tell me it is.”
“Begging for a chance to get out of . . . whatever this is?” She pointed between Brody and Sunshine, both of them still standing by the desk. Brody glared and chewed the inside of his cheek, like so many times before.
“I’m a woman, I speak female. And choosing to pay attention to me instead of her, my friend, is an obvious out.”
Sunshine moved and her hand cut between the two, attempting to push the office door closed.
“We’re not done here, would you mind?” She witnessed a smile wander across the woman’s face as the door closed, leaving the stranger in the main room of the police station.
“I’m not sure that was the best move.” She felt the warmth of Brody’s large hand close over hers still holding the door handle.
“Meaning?” The warmth he expelled spread further, shivers of heat erupted through her body and pooled between her legs.
“That,” he said and lifted his hand from hers, leaving an unpleasing feeling of coldness across the skin of her hand, “was Melanie Orchard, the best detective this side of the Midwest, and a woman.”
She returned his smile and shook her head. “Meaning?” she repeated, staring deep into his cobalt blue eyes.
“Women gossip.”
“And? Is your being with me gossip-worthy?”
“In a town as small as this.” The same hand that has so recently covered hers reached out to hold onto the windowsill. “Opening a door to see a woman seated on the sheriff’s lap might be worth mentioning.”
“Why was she here in the first place, officer?”
His eyes sparkled under her gaze and wandered from her eyes down to her lips. “Afraid I have other women in line willing to be seated on my lap?”
Sunshine’s mouth opened, formed a word, then took it back before the air left her lungs.
Brody’s composure outranged her in more than height. Power, strength, and an air of arrogance lived within him.
“She walks in everywhere, at any time.” His lips were chapped, looking dry as an Arizona desert. “You should probably be on your way, Sunshine.”
“Fine,” she sputtered and stepped closer until their chests touched. “But if you’re even remotely interested, it’s your move now. I’ve done mine, and frankly I’m not ashamed of my actions. Over and out, Officer.”
* * *
Her hand graced her forehead in a salute and she walked out of the door, forgetting to close it behind her, making every nerve ending inside him sizzle with anxiety until he closed it himself.
Silence once more owned the office, just as it had done before the storm that was Sunshine had occupied it.
The dry leaves escaping their branches made the outside world look cold and harsh. The view outside the window resembled his insides and he cursed everything that was wrong: his continuous pain, his rugged scar, the way his war memories still made him grip the pillow in sweat every night, and the inability of his goddamn heart to trust or to kick Sunshine out of it. The world needed warmth and brightness just as much as he might need sunshine. Her. That Sunshine—his aura of energy and brightness. Hair so bright nobody could help but see it as anything less than rays attached to a fierce ball of energy staking its claim on the world, on him.
Suddenly the phone behind him on the desk vibrated in rhythm, three at a time, the most reliable rhythm, until he picked it up and swiped his thumb across the glass and smiled at Melanie’s message: “You know she is cute. And no, you are not too old for her. Stop wasting time, Brody.”
He placed the phone in his pants pocket, grabbed his lunch box from the chair by the door, and stepped out of the building, not knowing what his next move should be.
Chapter Seventeen
Sunshine digested a questionably edible dinner. The beans in the pot simmered under the lid and, thanks to the bacon and brown sugar in the sauce, a trailer that usually stunk of musky fabric and old wood smelled like sweet baked goods. Brutus’s large frame took up space in the walkway between the seating area and the burner by the door. A canine feat of which she was jealous: sleeping wherever, whenever, with a rumbling snore.
Not even her steps above him made any difference. He slept and Sunshine enjoyed the bowl of heated beans she’d poured herself and sat down on the rough fabric lining the cushions on the couch. “At least it’s better than being outside,” she sighed and closed her eyes, pleased she had a nonleaking roof over her head and food in her stomach. “It could be worse.”
The trailer turned quiet and she noticed Brutus’s head no longer resting on the cold linoleum floor. Instead his ears moved, an intensity showing in his eyes, trying to locate a sound he’d heard but she obviously hadn’t. His nose puffed lightly and with a raised eyebrow he met Sunshine’s stare.
“What is it, Brutus? What do you hear?” She placed the scraped-bare bowl on the table and moved down on the floor next to her companion, his heat radiating through his black fur. She rested her head against his side and stroked his dark hair, letting it run smoothly between her fingers. “Should we stay, Brutus? Is this safe?” A branch cracked and they stiffened but before Brutus had a chance to bark she placed a solid grip around his mouth and pressed his face into her chest. “Sssh, not a sound. Quiet, be very quiet.”
“Yes, darling. Be very quiet.”
She whipped around and through the cracked-open window where she had recently sat enjoying her ever so casual dinner, the barrel of a revolver rested on the windowsill and, following the massive hand gripping its handle, the contours of a pale man’s face baring eyes glowing as the fires in hell stared at them and his hand pushed itself through, widening the window further. The revolver could end her days with a simple press of a finger, yet what was more frightening was the smile on the man’s face.
“If that dog jumps, I’m not saving my ammunition, you know what I’m saying?”
“Yes,” she whispered and clamped her hand harder around Brutus’s mouth, holding it shut.
“Now, I’m going to come in. Where will the dog go?”
Her eyes followed the revolver as it swung around like a baton guiding its orchestra.
“Outside,” she managed to answer, swallowing down a desperate cry.
“I’m not sure what you’re waiting for, sweetheart. Let’s get to it, shall we?” His eyes aimed at Brutus tucked hard by her side.
“Sure, yes.” In panic she grabbed the thick fur at the back of Brutus’s neck, pulled down the leash from the hook next to the door and headed out into the darkening hours of the evening.
As she reached the end of the trailer, she wasn’t sure her wobbly legs could hold her upright much longer and she bumped into Brutus, who immediately found her eyes, looking for an answer or command, noting the level of distress in Sunshine.
“In, Brutus.”
“Lock it and come back to the trailer, now.” The voice shook, and with uneasy feet she stepped across the gravel and was met by the open door to her own home, which she for the first time didn’t want to enter. Gone was the sweet smell of baked beans; now the small space stunk of dirt, forest, and old-set moisture.
“Come sit down.”
She hadn’t dared look back at him yet. The few steps along the hallway felt heavy, not knowing whether an execution would present itself at the end.
“Sit.”
The rough fabric stretched against her bottom as she slid herself onto the seat, watching her hands fold in her lap.
“Now, this is what we’ll do.” He lit up a cigarette and she was happy the smoke concealed the pungent smell he’d brought inside. Thin swirls of smoke rose in the air, the sound of burning paper at the tip when he inhaled sharply was the sound of crackling fire to her ears. Her eyes traced the small flakes of ashes landing on the table until she met his gaze across the table.
“There they are, the blue ones trying to hide.”
That was the last thing she remembered as the table smashed her in the face, a large hand pushing her down into it. The crackling of cigarette paper vanished and the echo of silence took over her world. She preferred it to what was at hand. It felt pleasant.
Chapter Eighteen
A hard lash of a hand across her cheek woke her. A view of darkened forest before her and when she looked down, she saw her hands wrapped in what must have been Brutus’s leash, itself tied to the car’s steering wheel. She tried to pull her hands away, shaking them, terror taking over every part of her body. A hand suddenly pushed against the back of her head, shoving her face against the hardness of the wheel.
“For being so pretty, you ain’t too smart. Can’t you see you’re stuck? It’s not my first time, miss. Leave it.”
Again the smoke of a cigarette took up space in her lungs, reminding her of burned leather. Her skin branded like cattle. She swallowed hard and sniffed in the smell of nosebleed. The gleaming orange light of a lit Marlboro dangled from the mouth of the man next to her in the passenger seat.
“Let’s go.”
“Where to?” she asked, her voice a faint whisper, wondering if he’d heard her question.
“None of your business. Just drive until I tell you not to.”
“People will wonder.”
“They will not,” he answered and flicked the lengthy ashes on the floor and stared out the window. “Drive,” he spat and pressed his cold hand onto her right thigh, pushing her foot onto the gas pedal.
Miles of familiar landscape flew by the window, orders of directions coming scarcely from Hemmerson. Distance was of more importance than direction. Was it Canada he sought? Saskatchewan, Manitoba maybe? Stretched-out land and a chance for freedom.
“Stop thinking so hard, blondie, just drive and turn that mind of yours off. You’re ruining my peacefulness. Do you know how it is to live inside a prison?” He turned to her, placing his knee on the console between them. “It’s crowded, it’s evil, and it’s a fucking pleasure for those lucky enough to find a mate.”
“Not your cup of tea, from what I’ve heard.”
A puff of air escaped his nose and she noticed him staring straight at her while she kept her eyes on the darkened cement road ahead. “So, you have heard of me. I guess my reputation proceeds me. Well, miss, then there is no need to tell you my preference. You already know.”
Chapter Nineteen
This is dumb, he thought, alternating pushing down the gas pedal of the patrol car, then hitting the brakes. Repeatedly for the next few miles of dark asphalt and slumbering forest, eyes looking for that one lonely turn-out leading down the gravel path dusted in growing weeds leading up to Sunshine’s bland, white trailer. To call it an RV would be taking it too far, there being nothing recreational about the vehicle, but trailer. Sure, it wouldn’t roll on those wheels any time soon but it was somewhere to keep warm.
He turned down the gentle slope off the road. Gangly, vulnerable seedlings whisked their green tentacles against the side of his cruiser until he reached a clearing ahead. Gravel mixed with weeds crawling from the forest and into the clearing, making a half circle dusted in cool pale rays of a night’s beginning. The sunshine stretched its tired arms in a last yawn before its disappearance. His cruiser rolled to a soft halt in the center and he noticed Sunshine’s car missing. He stepped outside and hung his sunglasses from the neck of his shirt and shut the car door behind him. No lights on inside the small trailer; maybe she was sleeping. Like an antelope, he jumped midair at the sound of a large bark from behind. Brutus. Damn, he thought and clasped his hand over his heart, asking it to stay inside his body. He would do anything to avoid that dark-haired colossal beast.
“What’s up, beast?” Brody stood back three feet or more from the feeble chicken wire holding the monster captive. He placed his hands on his hips and looked at the dog. “Trying to tell me I should let you out?” The dog’s nose pressed between the openings of wire, his wide tongue licking the metal like tasty beef thrown from heaven. His tail wagged from left to right every time Brody opened his mouth.
“Where is your mama, big boy?” He stood his ground and waited for a rustle from the inside of the trailer.
“Brutus,” he gruffed, getting the dog’s attention. “Sunshine? Where is Sunshine?”
Yes, Brutus seemed to answer with a loud bark and sat his large bottom on the ground and stared straight through the wire and into Brody’s eyes.
“Damn it,” Brody cursed and shook his head in irritation, knowing it couldn’t be avoided. Let Brutus out. “Okay, hold on for a minute will you?” He walked over to the trailer and knocked on the door. No answer, as he had suspected. He tried the door, locked. He walked around the trailer, pushing gangly pine branches away from his body as he rounded the vehicle. No open windows and from what it looked like through the glass, no one inside.
“Hey, Brutus.” Brody walked back to the canine licking the wire once more and brought out a granola bar from his pocket. “You hungry?” Brutus sneezed at the scent in front of his nose and, with furry eyebrows playing a game of hopscotch, contemplated if the snack in Brody’s hand was trustworthy. “I know it’s not sausage, but come on, you’re either hungry or not. Trying to get a feel for the last time someone fed you, that’s all.” He stood back and placed the granola bar back into his pocket and raked his hand through his short hair.
“So,” he started and found himself feeling ridiculous, spending an evening conversing with a canine over edible items. “Sausage, bacon, sandwich. Does any of that ring a bell?” Brutus stood tall and alert as soon as the word sausage had rolled off Brody’s tongue and to Brody’s disgust a long drop of jelly-looking saliva dropped from Brutus’s mouth.
“If you promise not to eat me, I may be able to get you out of there and into my car. But you have to promise.” Brutus’s eyes followed as Brody pointed to the patrol car parked a mere ten feet away.
“Fine, here we go. Just don’t kill me. I d
on’t want to be remembered as the police chief who got mauled and eaten alive over a pack of breakfast sausage, okay?” This close to the gate, holding his hand on the metal, Brody realized how immense Brutus really was, but it was too late to back out. As soon as Brody unlocked the cage, Brutus forced open the wired door, pushing Brody to the ground in full speed. Before Brody was up on his feet, Brutus had launched in the air and landed on Brody, thumping him back on the ground, dust and gravel making its way into the back of his shirt.
“Don’t eat me! You promised!” Brody yelled, holding his large arm in front of his face should Brutus open his jaws. Something cool reached his forehead and slowly he lowered his arm and looked up. “Thanks for sharing your drool, Brutus, and for thinking my forehead shares the taste of breakfast sausage. Get off, you beast.”
Brody pushed himself from the ground, moving the dog aside as he did, and wiped his wet forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. “You’re at least a hundred pounds, beast. You’re not riding shotgun.” Brutus was already at the passenger door, his head at the perfect height to sniff the inside of the car through its open window.
“Not there.” Brody opened the back door to the cruiser. “Here.” With a loud exhale, Brutus sat himself inside the car, looking back at Brody with displeased eyes. “You’re fine back here. Stop complaining.” Brody sat himself down in the front seat and turned to face the peculiar backseat passenger. “Look, no biting the upholstery. If you need to pee, tell me, and no drooling.” Brutus looked away, sneezed, and ignored the driver. Brody started the car and drove around the half circle before facing the highway once more. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, beast, I saw that.” Brutus yawned as a response to his boring fellow traveler and circled the backseat until he found himself a spot conformable enough to fall asleep, driving Brody crazy by rasping the upholstery he had polished two days earlier. “If it breaks, it’s coming out of your food deposit.”
Brody stayed on the couch for most of the evening, waiting for Sunshine to acknowledge Brutus being gone, but for nothing. He’d called her employer but received the answer that she was off for the day. He’d looked up her phone number from the police report he’d filed on her, over Brutus’s idea that chasing squirrels across crops was more fun than being caged. But who could blame him. Nobody wants to be locked up when freedom gives you everything. His mind ran from Brutus to James Hemmerson, a person who resembled the canine to some extent: a large- bodied lover of freedom with an eye for pretty women. His mind churned and his mouth felt dry as sandpaper in a pile of dust from the Sahara. His hands landed on his knees and he pushed himself into standing. Brutus eyed him from the opposite couch where he’d seated himself after running the length and height of Brody’s house, pushing himself through the door to the guest bedroom and onto the bed, scaring a half-asleep Wayne into hyperventilation.
