Dark Blue (South Island PD Book 1)

by Ranae Rose

  The department wouldn’t turn a blind eye to Sanders’ actions anymore. Not even if he was one of their own. His true nature had come to light at a heavy cost.

  * * * * *

  “Maybe we can hit the beach for a walk afterward,” Jackson said as Belle pulled into the parking lot beside Moreno’s.

  “That’d be nice.” She tried not to let her surprise show. He was certainly feeling ambitious today.

  “I could use some ocean air; I can only take so much of the recirculated AC stuff in my apartment. I feel like I’ve been living in an isolation cell.”

  The sweet and salty smell of sea water drifted to them as they climbed out of the car, and she felt torn between pride and sympathy.

  It was great to see Jackson enthusiastic about their evening, but he walked toward the restaurant with the air of an animal that’d been caged too long. Maybe they should’ve tried an evening out sooner.

  “Do you want to bring your cane just in case?”

  He’d left it in the backseat.

  “Nope.” He raised an arm, bent at the elbow. “Princess?”

  She looped her arm through his, and they approached the restaurant together. Its lights glowed softly against the October evening, inviting.

  “What’s in the bag?” he asked, nodding toward the blue and silver gift bag she carried.

  “Wine. I don’t know the guest of honor very well, and I figured a nice wine would be a safe bet.”

  “Smart.”

  Inside, the restaurant was crowded. Light and noise permeated the main first floor dining area, and a haze of kitchen smells sent hunger pangs flying through Belle’s stomach. She hadn’t eaten since lunch, and it was nearly seven o’clock in the evening.

  The hostess led them to the private room that’d been booked for the party, and they found a couple dozen people from the college already there.

  “I probably should’ve mentioned this to you sooner,” Belle said, “but you’re a little bit of a celebrity in the eyes of my colleagues. At work, I get asked how you’re doing all the time, and everyone saw the newspaper article. I have a feeling I’ll be introducing you to a lot of people tonight.”

  He snorted at “celebrity,” but otherwise seemed ready to grin and bear it.

  Belle smiled, her arm still linked with his. “What do you say we sit down?”

  They found an empty seat near the center of the table, sandwiched in between Keira and another woman Belle barely recognized. Zackary sat on Keira’s other side and shot both her and Jackson a friendly hello.

  There were already appetizer platters set out, and Belle ate in between the introductions she facilitated between Jackson and the guests sitting nearest them.

  “I think it’s just wonderful what you did for that girl,” said an older woman Belle was pretty sure taught RN classes. “How’s that leg feeling, hon? Healing well?”

  He responded with good humor, and the conversation quickly grew technical.

  Yep, the woman was definitely a seasoned nurse – after she started talking about wound drainage while simultaneously heaping cocktail shrimp onto her plate, Belle was sure.

  All in all, Jackson was very popular. Belle just had to make sure he didn’t outshine Nancy, the guest of honor who was retiring from over a decade of work at the college.

  Luckily, the food at Moreno’s was good enough to distract people, even from Jackson. When the main courses arrived, the chatter all but ceased.

  The seared, sliced tuna with wasabi dipping sauce that she chose was heavenly, the fish a rich red-pink and almost translucent inside a sesame crust. Fresh seared tuna was one of her favorite treats – pricey, but worth it. And besides, the fact that Jackson seemed to be handling his first real night out since the shooting well was something to celebrate.

  “How are you feeling?” she leaned in and asked quietly when no one else was paying attention.

  Jackson set his spoon down in the bowl of spicy gumbo he’d ordered. “I’ll make it. Don’t worry about me, Princess.”

  She sipped her rosé. “Still thinking about that walk on the beach?”

  “Damn straight.” He shot her a smile that doubled her confidence.

  “Okay. I hope you’ll be willing to stick around for dessert first, though.” Moreno’s had the best vanilla bean crème brûlée.

  He had no objections to dessert. And afterward, he insisted on walking down to the beach.

  Belle stopped to wish Nancy well first, and then she and Jackson were walking arm-in-arm out a back door that lead to a patio where music played over outdoor speakers. At the far end, there was a beach access ramp.

  The air was sweet and salty, and Belle’s head buzzed pleasantly in the wake of the wine she’d had with dinner. But before they could reach the beach, they had to take the access ramp past the abundant dune hills.

  The ramp was long and on the steep side. The five step staircase at the end was tricky for Jackson, but he made it down.

  “If I wasn’t sworn to uphold the law, I’d sneak through the dunes,” he said, leaning on the railing after he made it past the last step.

  A boldly lettered sign warned of the consequences for trespassing on the sand dunes – namely, a hefty fine.

  “You’re doing great. It’s amazing how much progress you’ve made already.”

  “Yeah, well no bones were damaged and I’m lucky he only had a .22. There are weapons out there that can put holes the size of moon craters in people.”

  She winced at the thought. “Are you still experiencing numbness along your calf?”

  “Yeah.” They walked slowly through the sand, toward the water. “Wish it was my thigh that was numb instead. I’d be running, not walking, if that was the case.”

  “It’s probably best that it’s not – you need to give your wounds time to heal internally, not just on the surface. Over time, maybe your nerve damage will even clear up.”

  “Here’s hoping. If some numbness is the worst of what I’m left with though, I can live with that.”

  She ached to see him completely healed, with nothing but scars left over. He had a point, though.

  As her eyes adjusted to the dim moonlight and she caught sight of a ghost crab scurrying out of their way, she felt infinitely grateful for the fact that he was able to walk alongside her. Even the stars peeking from behind the scattered clouds were dull in comparison to her gratitude.

  She tightened her hold on his arm. “Love you.”

  He paused, his fair hair catching the moonlight as he turned to meet her gaze. “Love you too, Belle. Something the matter?”

  CHAPTER 36

  Belle smiled. “Does anything have to be the matter for me to tell you that? We’re walking on a moonlit beach, after all – romance is in the air.”

  Before Jackson could answer, a voice cut through the night’s quiet, carrying over the surf.

  They turned at the same time, facing a trio of beach walkers. As they drew close, they became more than just silhouettes and Belle recognized them as college employees.

  “Apparently we weren’t the only ones who had this idea.” She motioned toward the water. “Should we run in the opposite direction and see how your leg holds up?”

  He shook his head. “Nah. They’re your co-workers and you’ll have to face them on Monday.”

  “You’d be surprised how long I can avoid people from most other departments.” She shrugged, smiling back. “You’ve been a real social butterfly tonight, but I was hoping to have you to myself out here.”

  Her colleagues – two middle-aged women and a man – waved and cut toward them, clearly keen on making conversation.

  “I’ve never been called a social butterfly before,” he said. “For your sake, let’s see how long I can keep the ball rolling.”

  “Officer Calder, right?” One of the women flashed them a bright smile, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “I read all about what you’ve been through in the paper. It’s good to see you out here strolling the beach – I
wouldn’t have thought you’d be up to that for a few more weeks, at least.”

  He draped an arm around Belle’s shoulders. “Well, I couldn’t resist seeing her in moonlight.”

  Belle fought the urge to roll her eyes, even as she smiled and the other women laughed.

  “My husband was a cop,” the second woman said. “Worked twenty-one years for Summerville before retiring. Now, he was never shot, thank God, but…”

  Before Belle knew what was happening, she and Jackson were swapping stories.

  She marveled at Jackson’s ability to stand and make conversation as if he were actually enjoying it, and then a thought occurred to her: maybe he was. He’d been shut up indoors for so long, and now he was outside in the sea breeze with an audience eager to hear his stories about the job he loved so much.

  She smiled and stopped plotting excuses to drag him away.

  “Hey, Jackson?” she nudged him during a brief pause, trying not to interrupt too badly.

  “What, Princess?”

  “I’m a little chilly. I’m going to run to the car and grab my sweater. Do you want me to bring your cane just in case?”

  “I’m all right.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t argue. She knew better by now. And if his leg got too sore to continue their walk, they could always sit on the beach and watch the waves roll in. “I’ll be right back.”

  After climbing the beach access stairs, she found the patio much more crowded than it had been ten minutes ago. A dozen people chattered, most holding cocktails or glasses of wine.

  “Belle!” A familiar voice came from the far corner.

  Zackary waved as if he were flagging down a cab.

  Belle stepped aside, out of the way of a couple who were just exiting the restaurant, hand-in-hand.

  “Hey everyone.” Zackary, Keira, Nancy and her husband were clustered at a tall table in the corner. In the center of the table was a bottle of champagne, surrounded by a halo of empty glasses.

  “You’re just in time,” Zackary said, stepping aside to widen the space between himself and Keira.

  Keira nodded at the champagne bottle as Belle stepped up to the table. “A little thank you from the admissions department to Nancy for her years of service at the college.”

  Belle smiled at Keira, then Nancy. “Congratulations again on your retirement. We’re sorry to see you go, but I hope you enjoy it.”

  Keira poured the champagne, and Belle hesitated before accepting a serving. The flutes were narrow, and Keira had poured modestly.

  Belle was grateful for that. All she really wanted was to get back to Jackson, and she already had a wine buzz she didn’t want to push into the overboard category. This was a work event – however she behaved would reflect on her at the college, and she was aware of her status as one of the newest employees.

  “Where’d Jackson go?” Zackary asked, looking out toward the beach after accepting a glass of his own.

  He pointed slightly to the left of the ramp. “Is that him out there?”

  Belle looked out past the dunes, at the moonlit section of beach where she could just make out the soft glow of Jackson’s light grey shirt. He stood with the three people she’d left him with, presumably still absorbed in conversation.

  “Yeah. He’s talking shop with someone whose husband is a retired police officer.” She turned back to the group.

  “How about a toast?” Keira suggested. “To Nancy, for her years at Elwood College.”

  Belle, Zackary and Nancy’s husband echoed Keira, and then came the clinking of glasses, soft against the background noise of conversation and the ever-crashing waves.

  Belle tilted her glass against her lips, eager to get to the car and back to the beach. She’d never been big on champagne, but as far as champagne went, it didn’t seem bad.

  Had Keira paid a lot for it? She made a mental note to offer to contribute toward the cost later. If the bottle was supposed to be a gift from the admissions department, it was only fair.

  “What’s on the horizon for you now?” Keira asked. “Any plans to travel?”

  Nancy smiled. “Yes, actually. We’re heading to Florida in the spring.”

  “Florida, when you’re a Charleston native?” Keira’s eyebrows hovered near her hairline. “I’m sorry to say I don’t understand the appeal.”

  Nancy and her husband laughed. “We’re taking the grandkids to Disney World in April. We’ve been promising them for years, and the time has finally come.”

  “Ah, well, that’s understandable. How many grandkids do you have, and how old are they?”

  Belle sipped her champagne as quickly as she figured she could without seeming like a lush. By the time her glass was empty, Nancy was explaining her hopes to someday take an Alaskan cruise.

  “Bet that’d be something, huh?” Zackary said. “Whale watching, grizzlies … kinda crazy.”

  Belle realized that Zackary was talking to her. Whales and grizzlies? It took her another moment to realize he was referring to an Alaskan cruise.

  She blinked, suddenly aware how tired she was. Maybe it was all the food she’d eaten, or the mental energy she’d exerted worrying about Jackson. Speaking of Jackson…

  She glanced out at the beach, then nodded at Zackary. “It sure would. Excuse me, but I’ve got to get something from my car.”

  She bid the rest of the group a polite goodbye and slipped past Zackary.

  The patio was even more crowded now, and the guests’ chatter combined with the music to dull the sound of the ocean. Belle caught a last snippet of Zackary asking Nancy about her cruise plans, and then she was navigating around tables, toward the little staircase that lead directly down to the near corner of the parking lot.

  As she climbed down the stairs, she kept a firm grip on the railing and mentally took back any positive thoughts she’d had about the champagne. A headache was setting in, and the bitter taste lingering on the back of her tongue made the alcohol seem like a likely culprit. She and Jackson would either have to take a cab back to her place or hang out on the beach until her head cleared.

  A cab would probably be best, with him still recovering. Spending moonlit hours on the beach would be too much to ask.

  In contrast to the patio, the parking lot was dark and empty, an unlit sea of asphalt and vehicles. She crossed it, scanning the far corner where she’d found a space near the front of the restaurant. Just when she was starting to get frustrated, she saw her car. It wasn’t easy to locate in dark parking lots – that was the price she paid for its midnight blue paint.

  As she made her way toward it, her feet felt heavy – which was ridiculous, considering that her strappy sandals weighed less than a pound combined.

  In contrast, her head felt light. Too light, and still achy.

  The sense of relaxation she’d felt after dinner was gone. Had she ruined it with the champagne? Maybe it’d been cheap stuff after all.

  When she finally made it to her car, all she wanted to do was sink down into one of the seats.

  She had to get back to the beach and Jackson, though – leaving him alone out there made her nervous. Even if his leg started getting the best of him, he’d carry on with his tough guy act, not willing to lose face in front of others.

  As quickly as she could make herself move, she unlocked her car, opened one of the back doors and leaned over the seat, reaching for her sweater. Jackson’s cane was there too, and she was half tempted to grab it despite his wishes.

  After a moment’s deliberation, she decided not to.

  She also decided she had to sit down, even if it was only for a second. Her head was killing her. It felt like a balloon tethered to her body by a wispy strand of ribbon – if she moved too fast, it might float away.

  Exhaling, she flopped down into the back seat, letting her head loll against the head rest. God, it should be illegal to sell champagne so cheap.

  Or maybe the champagne was fine, and she had an allergy to the sulfites used in making wines. Mar
iah had mentioned seeing allergies like that at work, but it didn’t make much sense in Belle’s case. She and Mariah had split many a bottle of wine between the two of them, and it’d never made her feel like this.

  The sea roared, and its breeze carried hints of the patio music to Belle. She sat there, eyes squeezed shut, breathing in the warm air and willing her head to settle back down onto her shoulders where it belonged. Time blurred, and the only thing she was sure of was that the longer she sat there, the less she wanted to move.

  “Belle?”

  She opened her eyes and realized that she was dizzy on top of everything else. Great. Whoever was approaching might be treated to her vomiting up her dinner on their shoes, if they got close enough.

  “Belle, what’s up? You okay in there?”

  She barely suppressed a groan. Zackary. Of all the good Samaritans to happen along and enquire about her welfare, he was the last one she would’ve chosen. Why couldn’t one of the RNs have walked by instead?

  Yeah, fine. The words echoed in her mind, but didn’t make it past the tip of her tongue.

  “Belle?” He stepped up to the side of her car and bent down, a hand braced above the door. “You okay?”

  Again, she tried to speak but couldn’t. Just as she focused on his face, her vision began to swim. She saw two of him, then three.

  Oh, God. She had to be having some kind of allergic reaction to something. She wished desperately for a nurse, but got nothing but Zackary leaning into the car, his eyes wide. “Belle?”

  She finally sighed. It was the only sound she could make. She was so damn tired.

  He nodded, as if she’d said something substantial. Then he grabbed both her legs just below the knee and swung them all the way into the car, so her feet rested on the floor instead of hanging out the open door.

  The motion slammed her with a fresh wave of vertigo. What the hell did he think he was doing? As shitty as she felt, she still experienced a prickle of indignation as his hands lingered on her legs.