Arrest (A Disarm Novel)

by June Gray

  At five thirty, Henry called to confirm my fear. “I’m sorry, Els,” he said. “They’ve called me in since they’re short one man.”

  I couldn’t help the whine in my voice when I said, “But it was your weekend off.”

  “I know. But I can’t leave them one man down.”

  I took the call away from the break room, standing out in the hallway. “Henry, you promised.”

  “I’m sorry, but this is what the job entails.”

  “Fuck the job,” I hissed, the alcohol fueling my anger. “If your job is more important than your wife, then go. But don’t expect me to be home when you get back.”

  “Elsie,” he said, his voice gritty with warning and worry. “Don’t do that to me. You of all people know about duty.”

  “You know what duty did to me? It killed my brother, it broke my boyfriend, and now it’s taking away my husband.”

  “I can’t do this right now,” he said in a terse voice. “I have to get to the station. We’ll talk later.”

  I hung up, not bothering to say good-bye, and leaned against the wall furiously trying not to cry. I ran to the bathroom when the tears could not be contained and I cried in the stall, sobbing silently and wiping at my tears with toilet paper.

  I shouldn’t have been surprised. I should have known better than to place my hope on promises made of clouds.

  —

  When I emerged from the bathroom nearly fifteen minutes later, I’d collected myself and fixed my makeup and hoped that my red eyes didn’t give me away. Conor walked by my desk with a self-satisfied smile. “So what do you think?” he asked, his hands in his pants pockets.

  I think I’m not handling the LEO life very well. I think I’m not handling marriage very well.

  “The slushee machine is a nice surprise,” I said with a fake smile.

  Conor, for all his flirtations and faults, was shrewd at reading body language. It was what made him such a good businessman. “You okay?” he asked, peering at my face.

  I took a deep breath and faced him squarely, red-ringed eyes and all. “No, I’m not, and I’ve had too much alcohol to even bother trying to hide it,” I said, then picked up my purse.

  “You’re not driving in that state,” he said quickly. “Stick around and get sober first.”

  I shook my head, even though I knew he was right. I was stuck here until I got some food in my stomach and the alcohol wore off.

  “We can go get some food at that new Korean restaurant down the street. We can just walk there,” he said.

  “Conor . . .” I meant to remind him that I was married, but rationalized that getting dinner with another man was only as platonic as I wanted it to be. If I never acknowledged Conor’s attraction to me, then it would just seem as if two friends were going out to dinner. Henry had friends of the opposite sex who he confided in; why couldn’t I? “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

  But like a guilty fool, I walked out first, afraid that people would see us leaving together. “I’ll go ahead and get us a table,” I said in a low voice that was a whisper that didn’t want to appear so. “While you finish up here.”

  At the restaurant, I chose the seat with my back to the restaurant so as not to be recognized. I felt myself relax as we received our drinks and Conor made a joke about my trying to get sober with more alcohol.

  “I need this tonight,” I said, taking more than a sip of sake.

  His shrewd eyes watched me. “I’m afraid that will get you the opposite of sober.”

  “So be it,” I said, raising a cup in the air and taking another drink.

  It occurred to me then that I’d been getting drunk way too often the past few months, which was unusual for me. I only realized I’d spoken the thought aloud when Conor said, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “For me there is. I don’t like getting drunk and losing control.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with letting go of the reins once in a while,” he said, completely charming me with that slight Irish brogue. “Let loose and have fun.”

  “What if I’m just not marriage material?” I asked.

  He grinned. “Maybe you are but you’re just married to the wrong guy.”

  I turned a blind eye to the intimation and asked him instead, “Are you?”

  “Am I the wrong guy?” he asked, laughing.

  “No, I mean, are you the marrying type?”

  “I was but not anymore,” he said with a shrug. “These days I’m more about cultivating Shake. But should the right woman come along, I might be convinced to change.”

  “I think Henry is disappointed in me because I’m not ready to try for another baby,” I blurted out then laughed at my uncomfortable confession. “Wow, where did that come from?”

  Conor shook his head. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

  I gave a short nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me because, for once, someone was around to listen. “It’s like he’s married to his job and I’m just the mistress who tries to snatch up whatever crumbs of attention he deigns to give me.”

  “I was married once,” Conor said. “But obviously it didn’t last.”

  “What happened?”

  “I was too focused on the business and neglected her. I took her for granted, basically, thinking she’d wait for me forever. Turns out, I was wrong.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “It sounds like Henry is suffering under the same misconception.”

  I nodded with a lump lodged in my throat.

  Conor’s green eyes were vivid and bright, even in the restaurant’s dim interior, when he said, “The next time, I’ll shower her with the love and attention she deserves. Show her every day just how much she means to me.”

  I averted my eyes as my cheeks warmed. “Do you miss Ireland?” I asked.

  “I don’t give myself the chance. I try to go at least once a year,” he said, moving on to the next subject seamlessly. “Have you ever been?”

  I shook my head. “No. We lived in Germany when I was little, but I don’t think we ever made it across the pond. Not that I remember much since I was about four years old at the time.”

  “It’s a fantastic place, full of legends and myths. I’ll take you sometime.” When he realized what he’d inferred, he added quickly, “If Shake ever has business there, I mean.”

  His words reminded me of another man who had once promised me Prague for our honeymoon but hadn’t been able to deliver due to lack of funds. Now that Henry was a cop with a starting salary of forty-six thousand dollars a year, it seemed less likely that I would ever leave the country.

  The memory of our time in Key West filled me with guilt and melancholy. Was it only less than a year ago when we’d had the time of our lives, so excited for the future? I already felt a decade older than that girl who’d spent an afternoon with Henry coming up with funny names for the penis.

  Determined to shake off the sadness, I filled our cups with more sake then lifted mine in the air. “To losing control.”

  “To losing control,” he echoed and clinked his glass with mine.

  —

  A long while later, we left the restaurant feeling giddy and refreshed.

  “It’s nice to have someone to talk to,” I said as we walked back to Shake’s parking lot. “Thank you for listening.”

  “Anytime, Sherman,” he said and, for once, I didn’t bother correcting him. He stood by my car and waited until I located my keys in my purse. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

  I waved his worries away. “I’m fine. I’ve had a few hours to metabolize the alcohol.”

  He looked at his watch. “Wow, it’s already past eight,” he said. “I was supposed to meet up with Julian at seven thirty.”

  “I’m sorry to keep you,” I said.

  “Not at all. I’d much rather spend t
ime with you than with a guy any day,” he said with an affable grin.

  “Well, it’s been fun.” There was a pregnant moment when our eyes locked, when my heart pounded in my ears because even my own conscience wanted to turn a blind eye. I wanted to kiss Conor in that moment, wanted to again experience the excitement of the unknown. It was an intoxicating feeling, this being wanted.

  But in the end, it wasn’t in my heart to cheat. Not when my husband was faithful, and especially not when he was currently doing his job protecting the city.

  “Good night, Conor,” I said and got into my car, watching him in the rearview mirror as I pulled out of the parking lot. I had driven less than a block from the office when red and blue flashing lights lit up behind me. The instant panic of being pulled over throbbed in my chest, and I turned into a restaurant parking lot trying to recall just how much alcohol I’d imbibed. It wasn’t a lot, but it wasn’t a little either.

  To my relief, Henry emerged from the cruiser. I watched him through the side mirror, hardly able to breathe as the confident and powerful man in black uniform walked my way.

  “Can you step out of the vehicle please?” he said in a commanding voice.

  I mumbled something about his innate ability to be so bossy and stepped out of the car. The moment I stood before him, he grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me in for a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, Elsie,” he said against my hair.

  I melted into his body, forgetting why I was mad at him to begin with.

  We stood like that for a few moments before he pulled away and was once again the stoic police officer. “Have you been drinking?”

  I held up my thumb and forefinger. “Just a bit.”

  “And you’re driving?” he asked, drawing his dark eyebrows together and folding his arms over his chest. “You know better than that.”

  “It was awhile ago. I’m not drunk anymore.” When he appeared unconvinced, I mimicked his pose and said, “You don’t believe me? Go get your Breathalyzer thingo.”

  “Say the alphabet backward then.”

  “Come on, nobody can do that even when sober!” I cried. “How about I walk a straight line instead?” But even as I took straight steps with my boots, I giggled at the absurdity of the situation.

  He held out a hand. “Give me your keys.” When I refused, he reached into the car window and pulled them out of the ignition. “Get in my car.”

  “A ‘please’ would go a long way.”

  He put his hands on his waist. “Now.”

  “No.”

  His jaw muscles worked and his nostrils flared as he stared at me. Then without warning, he bent down and scooped me over his shoulder, carrying me to the police cruiser. Without much effort, he opened the passenger door and dumped me inside, then closed the door before I could open my mouth and protest.

  I sat back, my arms crossed over my chest, and seethed as he closed the window to my car and retrieved my purse and duffel bag.

  He was silent as he drove me home, but I wasn’t about to back down from a fight. Not when I had a valid reason to be mad.

  “You should have just put me in the back since you’re treating me like a criminal,” I said. “Cuff me while you’re at it. Then just lock me up at home where I can wait for you forever.”

  “You’re acting like a child,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “I’m acting like a woman who’s tired of being second best.”

  He sighed. “This is my job, Elsie.”

  “When you deployed, I waited for you. And when you broke up with me, I still held on to the hope that you’d come back. Now you’re asking me again to wait for you while you put something else ahead of me,” I said, the tears sliding down my cheeks. “When’s it my turn, Henry? When are you going to make me your first priority?”

  “I left the military for you, didn’t I?” he asked, his jaw muscles working.

  “That was for your own benefit, because you wanted to be with me. It wasn’t because you finally wanted to end my suffering. It was because you wanted to make yourself feel better.”

  “You’re not even making sense anymore.” He stopped at the curb in front of our house and set the car in park. He turned in his seat to face me. “I left the military for you.”

  “Then would you leave the force for me?”

  His eyes flew over my face, but his lips did not move. He didn’t say anything reassuring. Instead he got out of the car, opened my door, and walked me to the porch. He unlocked the front door, set my things down inside, did a quick check of the dark house, then came back downstairs.

  Finally, he faced me, allowing me to see the emotions behind his eyes. “I like being a cop. I like helping people and I’m good at it,” he said, reaching out to touch my cheek. I stepped aside and let his hand fall away. “So I hope you never ask that of me.”

  An overwhelming urge to do just that washed over me, but seeing the look on his face, the worry that I would destroy what he’d been working for the past year, kept my lips glued together. It would be so cruel. “You know I’m not going to ask you that,” I told him quietly. “I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

  He reached out, grabbed the back of my neck, and brought me close, touching his forehead to mine. “Thank you,” he said in a voice husky with emotion. “Because if you really wanted me to, I would. I’d give up everything for you. Even my own life.”

  My heart hurt with his pained confession because I knew it to be true. “Just do me a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t let the past repeat itself.”

  His blue eyes burned bright when he pulled away and stared at me. “I would turn myself inside out before I let that happen again.”

  4

  Relationships are like a pendulum on a clock, swinging from one extreme to another. One hour you’re madly in love, unable to imagine life being sweeter, but eventually you reach a point when the relationship starts a downward sway to the center, where apathy often lies. If you’re very lucky, your relationship will stop there, but for the unfortunate, the relationship will swing all the way to the point where the bond is tested beyond its limits, when you have to decide to either find a way to swing back together or bail.

  As I sat on the couch that night, staring at the clock on the wall, I wondered where we were in the arc, and what we could do to prevent from reaching that dangerous point.

  I tried to take my mind off things by watching a bachelor reality show, but after the guy made out with three girls in less than fifteen minutes, I turned the television off and started to read a book instead. Still, I kept glancing up at the clock, wondering what time Henry would come home.

  The sound of the key in the door took me by surprise at quarter after six. I shot up off the couch, the blanket tangling around my legs, flabbergasted. “You’re home,” I cried as soon as he came in.

  He stood at the door, half in, half out, and gave me a sheepish grin. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  I didn’t even have time to guess. A second later, a chocolate Labrador came bounding into the house and immediately began sniffing the floorboards.

  “A dog?” I asked, my eyes wide.

  Henry grinned and tugged on the leash, pulling the dog toward him. “His name is Lawrence.”

  I approached them with my hands out, allowing the dog to sniff me. When he’d determined I was no threat, I crouched by him and scratched behind his ears. “A dog, Henry?” I asked, still unable to believe it.

  Henry sank to his knees and petted the dog’s back, keeping his eyes on me. “He was the dog from the abandoned apartment, do you remember? I’d been checking up on him at the pound to see if his owners had claimed him. Today was his last day,” he said and added in a softer voice, “I had to save him before they put him down.”

  “You can’t save every dog and cat you come a
cross,” I said, even as my heart sighed with his compassion.

  “I know. It’s just . . . this dog reminded me so much of Sissy. And he’s so friendly. And I figured you could use a watchdog around here when I’m gone at night.”

  “‘Friendly’ and ‘watchdog’ don’t really go together,” I said, warming up to the idea. The dog was really cute, and he even smelled freshly bathed. “Has he had his shots?”

  “He’s had shots, and he’s been microchipped, fixed, bathed. He just needs a good home.” Henry stared at me for a long time, trying to read my reaction. When I didn’t say anything, he put his face by the dog’s. “Pwease?” he asked with a goofy little pout. The dog turned his head and licked Henry right up the side of his face.

  A laugh bubbled up from my throat. “Oh God, how can I say no to that?” I asked. “You are like twin stooges.”

  I put my face up to the dog’s and let him lick me. I held him by the jowls and looked into his brown eyes. “So . . . your name is Lawrence.”

  “I figured we could change it. A new name for a new life.”

  “How about we just shorten it to Law?”

  “Law,” Henry murmured. “I like it.”

  We spent the rest of the night playing with Law and figuring out his tricks, and for once, the pressure was gone. But what we weren’t acknowledging was that this dog was a temporary bandage, a way for Henry to compensate for his absence and a way for me to make up for my inability to bear a child.

  Whatever feeling of joy Law brought was temporary, because sooner or later, the pendulum would swing toward the other side again.

  —

  That week, I started running again after work, with Law by my side. He was a good running companion, fast and focused. And even though it wasn’t in a Lab’s nature, he was fiercely protective of me. He was on high alert each time a male passed us on the sidewalk, and a few times he growled in warning as if to say, “Step off, she’s with me.”