Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2)

by Sheena Hutchinson

  “I know. I promise to call later.”

  We hang up the phone and I turn to face John’s curious eyes.

  “Let me guess, Meggie?”

  “How did you know?” I chuckle.

  “She’s the only one that would excuse you for not calling her because you were getting laid.”

  “How do you know that’s what she said?”

  He gives me a face. “Becca, I’m a cop. I can read between the lines.”

  “Guilty as charged.” I slip over the backside of the couch and into the space next to him.

  “Now, I have to get to work in a half hour.”

  “Good,” I mutter, with a soft kiss. “All I need is fifteen minutes.”

  He groans against my lips as I climb into his lap.

  Another weekend passes and is nothing short of amazing. The cute little moan that gets caught in her throat when I enter her; the way she is constantly looking to please me. If I could go back to my apartment right now, I would. I can’t seem to ever get enough of her. Those panties she wears around my apartment drive me crazy. They only cover half her butt cheek, but they are all lace so it’s like she’s wearing a thong. It makes me hard just thinking about it.

  “John?”

  I blink. Matt is sitting at the bar beside Mr. Collins, pads of paper between them. “Yeah?”

  “Are we going to get this started?” My partner’s voice seems to gain more authority as the days go on.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Are you sure?” His bushy eyebrows arch.

  “Yeah, let’s go. Who’s up first?”

  “Taylor,” Matt announces. I haven’t seen Taylor since that night.

  “Well, I’ll leave you two alone. Let me know if there is anything you guys need. I’ll just be in my office.” Mr. Collins climbs off the barstool.

  “Thank you,” we both reply.

  After Mr. Collins steps away through the kitchen doors, I feel Matt watching me.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.” I’ve been working with Matt for over a year now. If he thinks there is a facial expression I haven’t seen of his, he is sorely mistaken.

  “Let’s get down to business.” Matt remarks.

  “I’m waiting on you.”

  Taylor comes from the kitchen with a sandwich between his hands. His dark skin glistens in the bright daylight filtering in from the front windows. His muscles flex under a white tank top as his arms lift the sandwich to his mouth. He walks up beside us at the bar.

  “Hey, Smith, I hear you guys wanted to talk to me?”

  “Yeah, it’s about that night they drugged the girl. We just want to take a statement from you.”

  “What do you need to know?” He props himself up on a bar stool. It looks funny, like an elephant on a unicycle. It doesn’t appear normal.

  Matt takes the lead as we talked about earlier. He thinks I may be too invested in this case. He wants the questions to be calculated and firm. When he said it to me, I was actually offended. If there is one thing that I’m good at, it’s my job. The fact that he thinks I can’t do that because of a girl is insane.

  I zone back in halfway through the questions. “Did you see the girl in question?”

  “I saw her once or twice. I didn’t exactly keep tabs on her all night. There was a problem at the door that pretty much took my attention most of the night.”

  “Around closing time, you saw Smith leave his post. Tell us about the events leading up to that.”

  “I had just come back in after the police cleared the front door. I was standing post inside the vestibule when I saw Smith climb down and dash out the back door. That’s not like him. He’s the sternest motherfucker I’ve ever seen when at his post. Naturally, I expected a fight was breaking out. I followed. He was on the edge of the back patio. Two guys were running away through the parking lot and there was a blonde girl in Smith’s arms.”

  “How did the girl look?”

  “Damn.” He rubs his hand on the back of his bald head. “She looked pale. Her eyes were closed, hands and legs were limp.”

  “What did Smith say to you?”

  “He told me to cover for him, that he was taking her to the hospital.”

  “Did you think that was odd?”

  “That Smith stepped up to help an unconscious girl? No. That’s Smith.”

  Taylor’s brown eyes meet mine and I nod in appreciation. At least someone here knows I take my job seriously.

  “Okay. I think that’s all we need. If we find the guys, would you be able to ID them in a line up?”

  “I only saw their backs while they were running away. I don’t know how much help I can be.”

  “Okay. Thanks for you time.” Matt nods dismissively.

  “Thanks, Taylor, I’ll see you Friday.”

  “See you, Smithy.”

  After Taylor leaves out the back door, I turn back to Matt. “Who’s next?”

  “Mack?”

  “Oh.” That guy puts Taylor’s muscles to shame. “Let me get him.”

  Mack was just where I expected, in the kitchen. A few of the bouncers were around the tiny little television, watching the baseball game.

  “Mack,” I call over their rants. His bald dome is a head above everyone else and he turns at the sound of his name. “Can we talk to you for a second?”

  He nods. Reluctantly, he turns away from the television and follows me back out. Instead of sitting on the tiny stool, he leans against the bar. Matt begins his line of questioning again.

  “I don’t know how much help I will be. I was posted on the other wall.”

  “Did you see this girl in question?” Matt shows him the picture Becca gave us.

  “Oh, I do remember her. She always comes in with that redheaded friend. You know the one.” He nods toward me.

  “Yeah. I know.” We share a knowing smile.

  “What am I missing here?” Matt looks between the both of us.

  “Nothing.” I hide a laugh. “It’s just she’s… memorable.”

  “I see.” His eyes are skeptical, but he continues his questioning.

  “I saw her there, but most of my night is busy keeping drunken college guys from killing each other. To be quite frank, weekends are insane. I wouldn’t be able to say with complete certainty that it was that night. They all kind of blur together after a while.”

  The interviews continue that way, one after another, for what feels like days, but is probably only a few hours. We interview bouncer after bouncer and Rick the bartender again. Matt is deep into questioning the second bartender when aggravation takes over.

  First of all, this bartender is a complete tool. His name is like Kyle, Keith, or something similar. Absolutely the biggest tool I’ve ever seen. He dates girls half his age and even gives me the creeps. Matt asks him all the usual questions, and he deflects each by cracking jokes. He acts like this is a game. My temper flares under my skin.

  “The girl in question… did you see her with anyone?” Matt continues.

  “Yeah, I saw her with a couple of boys all night. She seemed pretty interested in them, if you know what I mean. It just looked like she wanted it.”

  “Uh, do you—”

  My fists clench. Before I know it, I’m spewing words at him. “She asked for it? Is that what you are saying?

  “Smith.” Matt’s even tone attempts to deflect.

  “I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself every time you take a girl home, you scum—”

  “Smith!” Matt interrupts.

  I tear my eyes away from creepy Keith. “What?”

  “Take a walk.”

  “Take a—?”

  “Now.”

  With one last glare at the prick bartender, I steal my notepad off the bar and walk away.

  I step out onto the back patio. Matt is right. Maybe I’m too close to this case. Just the thought of someone touching Becca makes me want to cause physical harm to them and everyone they love.
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  I don’t know how long I stand there staring at the back steps before Matt seems to pop up beside me. My partner just stands there until he sighs and says, “I want to meet this girl.”

  My head turns. “Huh?”

  “I think I should meet this girl that has you all up in arms.”

  “She does not have me up in arms.” I glance back out toward the parking lot.

  “Oh no?” Matt’s eyebrows quirk up, amused.

  “No.”

  “Then, what is that between your hands?”

  I glance down, looking at the tiny 4x6 photo of Becca. “I didn’t even know I had this.”

  “I noticed it was missing halfway through the next interview. Looks like no one here saw what you did. We’re just going to have to put in some hard work on this one. Also, Rick gave me all the bar receipts from that night.” Matt raises a large brown paper bag. “We have some work for the next few days.”

  “We better get started then.” I begin heading towards the parking lot.

  It doesn’t take long until Matt catches up with me. “I mean it, you know?”

  “Mean what, Matt?”

  “I want to meet this girl.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Later that night, we lie face to face in my bed again. There is something about our time here that makes me feel… comforted. She peers at me with her baby blue eyes. Even through the dark, I can tell they are alive.

  “How old are you?” she whispers.

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Why are you still adamant about this bachelor life?”

  I pause. There is no malice in her voice. It’s sincere, curious even. “I just haven’t found the right girl.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Bullshit.”

  “What?”

  “John, you’ve found tons of girls. You’ve just never allowed them inside. You never keep a girl for more than a night. How do you expect to really know them?”

  This is deep; too deep. Everything inside me is telling me to shut my mouth. My rules are telling me to run. Becca is getting too personal. She’s getting under my skin and changing me. I make the mistake of looking into her eyes again. They compel me to respond. “It’s personal.”

  “More personal than what we just did?”

  I twist, staring at the ceiling. “To me, yes.”

  “Hit me with it.” She moves closer, resting her cheek on my chest. I wrap my arm around her, bringing her close. It’s easier when I don’t have to look at her.

  “My father left when I was young. I can’t even picture his face anymore.” I pause. “My mother died when I was a freshman in college.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her fingers draw circles on my chest, centering me again.

  I continue. “I was so desperate for any kind of family, I joined the fraternity. I met your brother and we pretty much had the time of our lives. He was rebelling against your uptight parents and I was just desperate to hide the pain, to feel alive.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you don’t date now. ”

  “I tried once. It seems like a while ago now. I had actually arrested her. She was a drunken mess, clocked a grown man in the face. She was hilarious. Her green eyes just reminded me so much of my mother.” My breath falters slightly before I continue. “I never stood a chance. She had a thing with her neighbor and since then I just refused to put myself out there again.”

  “So to get over this one girl, you get on top of a boat load of others?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Her circles against my chest stop. “Are you currently sleeping with other girls?”

  “No.” Now that she mentions it, I realize that it’s true. I haven’t even looked at another girl since that night I took an unconscious Becca home. Her smell has become forever engrained in my bed sheets, a scent I’ve grown accustomed to. Another girl just wouldn’t seem, right. Holy crap. What the hell is going on with me?

  After a few minutes, her breathing evens out. My eyes are wide open staring at the shadows scattered across my ceiling, my mind a swirling vortex of anxiety and questions.

  “John? John?”

  I glance up to Matt’s expectant face. “Sorry, I think I zoned out there for a second.”

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “No.” I rub my eyes.

  “Are you still seeing that blonde?”

  He doesn’t even have to mention her name before I feel my lip quirk up slightly. “I see a lot of people.”

  “You know what I mean.” Matt flings a file at me.

  ‘SWANSON’ is scribbled on the tab. It’s Becca’s file. I glance up to meet his stern eyes.

  “The lab results are in. Check it out.” He nods to me.

  With hands trembling slightly, I flip the folder open. My eyes scan down the page, ignoring all the medical jargon until I focus on what I’m looking for. The box in the center says: GHB – Results: Positive.

  My fists clench against the desk. I don’t know why I’m reacting as such. I knew what the answer would be. I saw the unresponsiveness in her eyes. I was prepared for this, or was I? If I were, I wouldn’t want to tear these guys limb from limb for even thinking about laying a finger on Becca.

  “You okay?” Matt’s calm voice centers me again.

  “We need to catch these guys,” I say behind clenched teeth.

  “Tell me something I don’t know,” he mutters. “Why couldn’t these two monsters have disappeared with the rest of them?”

  “Fate has something worse planned.” I swing open a drawer and slam it closed before wandering towards the door.

  “Where are you going?” Matt calls after me.

  “I have to go inform the victim.”

  Becca was still in class when I park the cruiser in the parking lot in front of the Adams Building on campus. She has Criminology today. That should be in the Old Building. I walk up the drive and around the path towards the old brick building to the right. Students begin to filter out the door, slipping around me. They shoot me uneasy looks. I guess maybe I shouldn’t have come to campus in uniform, but I have to start keeping business and Becca separate. The uniform is the only thing separating me from dealing with this situation how it should be handled.

  The door opens and my little blonde is struggling with three huge books between her hands as she fumbles with the heavy door. My heart seizes when I see her.

  Her blue eyes, especially clear today, glimmer in the sunlight when she sees me “John?”

  A few students scamper past her. “You look awfully official—” She pauses mid-sentence, eyeing me closely. “What’s wrong? What are you doing here?”

  “I… I have to tell you something.”

  “Okay.” She eyes me uneasily. “Let’s go sit on the hill.” Her chin signals toward the center of the four buildings.

  I nod. Becca leads the way over to the huge hill that overlooks most of the campus. Back when I went to school here, it overlooked all of it. They’ve made more additions since then. She props herself on the roots of an oak tree atop the hill and pulls me down beside her.

  “You’re making me nervous. What is going on?”

  I slump beside her, my gun digging into my hip. “We finally got the results back from your tests.”

  “They were positive, weren’t they?”

  “Yes.” I gesture, keeping my eyes straight ahead. I can’t seem to meet her eyes. I don’t want to admit defeat. I can’t admit to her and to myself that I have failed her.

  We stay there for countless minutes in silence. We both stare out over the students passing back and forth across the campus. She is the one to finally break the silence. “I was prepared for this, John. I thought you were too.”

  “I thought I was.”

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “The thought of someone trying to take advantage of you…”

  She smiles softly. “But they didn’t. You were there.” Her hand is warm as it finds its way onto my arm.

  “I ca
n’t always be there.”

  “And when was the last time I went out drinking? I’ve been with you almost every night. See?” She pokes me. “You’re still protecting me.”

  I squeeze her hand back. “I will always protect you.”

  “I know.”

  The bustling of the school overwhelms our soft conversation. People start to fill the nearby area with towels and blankets as they soak up the summer sun.

  “John, I have to get to my next class. Promise me something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid when it comes to these guys. They aren’t worth it.”

  “That is the one thing I can’t promise.”

  I rise, leaving her staring after me as I descend the hill. She never calls after me. She never attempts to change my mind.

  Later, I’m sitting in class while my professor destroys the black board with a piece of chalk. My mind keeps going over the look on John’s face when he told me he couldn’t make that promise. I didn’t like it.

  I’ve seen that look before. Bedford had that look a lot when he was a teenager. It meant trouble. For some reason, I don’t want John to get in trouble, especially not because of me. This is all my fault. If I weren’t stupid enough to take a drink from those losers, I would never have been drugged. I sigh, tapping my pen against my blank notebook until I realize – I also never would have met John.

  My professor turns around now, still lecturing about something criminal. I should be paying attention. I should have probably read the chapter last night, but I was a little occupied.

  When I just can’t take it any longer I sneak my phone out of my pocket. Propping it against the bottom of the desk and my leg as I shoot John a text:

  Meet me at the coffee house when you’re off.

  The rest of class drags on in a torturous silence. I am actually forced to tune into the professor for a little while to distract myself from the blank screen on my phone. The students around me start closing their notebooks and placing down their pens, a unanimous sign for the professor to wrap it up. She winds the lecture down and assigns some homework, which I quickly write down on the corner of the notebook. The number of the chapter is misshapen because my lap has finally vibrated with a text message.