The following day, Indigo delivered the cooler I'd left in his car, and my bike, but I made Emma tell him I wasn't home. I knew it was over. He'd realize it too.
No one knows why, but sometimes even the best of things aren't meant to be.
THE ACADEMY
The days were long, the nights longer, and unbearably lonely. I'd lie in bed, reliving the last moments Indigo and I were together. Reevaluating possibilities, alternatives. Never did a single detail of his beautiful features fade. The facets of his eyes, their potent expression and hues, were unforgettable. My anger had abated, lifting the weight of betrayal, leaving in its place a hollow nothing could fill. A constant craving not a thing in the world could satisfy.
Plagued by what if's, I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that our relationship had ended, and wondered if I'd reacted too harshly. On my journey through the stages of grief, I ended up blaming myself. I knew we were broken, but had no idea how to make repairs. I knew in my heart Indigo was an honest, loving person. Strange things happen, I told myself, striking without reason out of the blue. It was part of life; who was I to question? But ... was there really a reason for everything?
Curdling loss still clawed at my stomach, and in the solitary of my room I'd speak Indigo's name aloud, in different tones, pretending he was beside me, which helped keep me sane. Sometimes I'd curl up into a ball, my insides so tight, I thought I'd never make sunrise.
I worked as many hours at AMA as possible, read a lot of books, and studied the Police Manual until I could practically recite each chapter verbatim. Pete and I practiced hand to hand combat on a regular basis, while Casey sat in a chair watching TV, or us. We shared hours of conversation, and many cups of herbal tea.
Indigo repeatedly texted me, but I never replied. I deleted his many messages without reading them. My phone was turned off most of the time, and I never listened to the voicemails he left.
One day I accidentally opened one of his texts, reading his words: I won't stop calling until you talk to me. I was longing to know what he had to say, but I couldn't. It would have killed me to hear his voice. I'd experienced life, matured beyond my years, and now had to stop myself from dying prematurely.
So I turned my cell off permanently, shoved it into my dresser drawer, and bought a track phone. I'd formed a habit of never answering the door, so I was safe on all fronts. Eventually, his attempts grew fewer, further apart. Part of me suffered sorrow, part relief. For as much as I yearned to be with him, the past had proven a future would be impossible.
I'd be in training for approximately five months, and planned on giving the academy my all. The first mornings I stood in formation at roll call were among the most exciting times of my life. As days passed, I realized how difficult becoming a police officer would be. Pete looked over my shoulder though, and almost every night we'd relive my day, in person or by phone, with him coaching me through any rough spots.
He'd sink into my living room sofa and smile at my excitement as I described just about every moment of every day.
"We stand in formation every morning at eight," I reported to Pete, after the charisma dissipated. "I'm always early though. Then the staff performs a visual inspection of our attire." The look on his face, and his eye rolls, made me laugh. "Ah, you're remembering, aren't you?"
"Yup. If someone has a wrinkle, is missing a pen, anything, they'll be doing pushups. Just make sure it's not you."
"Never." Under his scrutiny, I shook my head. "It's very militaristic, and believe me, I'm on my toes."
"Ah ha. Go on."
"The calisthenics are a killer, Pete, but I'm a pro at defensive tactics, thanks to you."
"How's your aim?"
"Great. How's yours?" I teased. As I brewed tea, I gave him a rundown of my day. "We went to the range to practice today and next week we'll be in the pool, learning how to tread water while we remove our pants or shirts and tie them into life preservers."
He nodded appreciatively. "When are you visiting the Medical Examiner's office?"
"Ugh. An autopsy is one thing I'm not looking forward to."
"Well, be prepared. It's gross." He flexed his chin, then arched his brows. "Wait till EVOC. It's awesome."
"Oh yeah." I scrubbed my palms together. "I can't wait to hit the course, not the cones." I giggled. "I've been practicing my high speed maneuvers on my dad's Jeep ... and Tony's video games when it's not."
Pete rolled with laughter. "Anything's better than nothing, Kit Kat."
"I've been riding my bike in parking lots when no one's around. Weaving around cars. You know, to get the feel of the wheel."
"Leave it to you." He shook his head. "You're resourceful, gotta give you that much. Don't dent any fenders." He planted a kiss on my forehead before walking out the door.
* * *
The weeks flew by and Indigo's efforts to connect with me were so infrequent, any attempt threw me for a loop, and back into the past. I thought a lot. I dreamed a lot. I cried a lot. I missed him so much, I'd bury my face in my pillow and sob. Emma tried to console me, saying in time I'd forget, but some things were simply unforgettable. Jimmy ...
I assumed he was well into his residency, and busy as hell. Was he still in Manhattan? When would he be leaving the country? At the thought of him relocating to Paraguay, the clench of my gut caused physical distress. The loneliness, impossible to deal with. Had I permitted my mind to take the journey for which it longed, I might not have made it back to reality.
Then one Saturday, a knock at the door almost blasted me out of my self-contained sanctuary. As usual, I didn't answer the buzzer. While I sought refuge in my room, Emma replied to the caller, and the doorbell. "Thank you," I heard her say, her words light, wistful. "Jewel," the tone of her voice was then cautious. "Come out here, please."
Was it her caterer delivering a sample menu? The arrival of her dress? Wedding plans had wrapped her in a continual state of bliss. Chaos had become a frequent visitor.
Filled with expectancy, and a rush of adrenaline, I half expected, half hoped, to see Indigo standing in the middle of my living room. He would take me in his arms and the nightmare would be over. What I found, however, was almost as unnerving, surprising, irresistible.
A long glossy box, wrapped with my favorite color of purple, sat on the counter. A hand flew to my mouth; I sucked in a breath, and tears came faster than Emma's words. But she didn't have to tell me; I knew it was from Indigo. My trembling fingers stroked the satin ribbon, and I hesitated. My heart was inside that box. Could I risk opening it again?
"Oh Jewel." Emma put her arms around my vibrating shoulders.
"It's been hell, Em. I never thought it would be this difficult. That day when I left him there, calling my name. I was so angry. Something inside me snapped. Maybe my pride. I couldn't turn back. And then it just escalated, and the anger was replaced by fear, and I just couldn't ... I couldn't go through that again, Em." I sobbed so hard, the collar of her shirt felt damp beneath my chin. "What should I do?"
"It has to be your decision." She drew back, a strained look on her face.
"Em ... You look like you're about to deliver bad news. Don't tell me something happened to him?" With balled up fists I covered my ears, tears still streaming down my face. As I watched her concern escalate, the knot in my stomach grew. "I don't want to know."
"Okay." Her voice was quiet as she reached for a mug. "I'll make us some tea."
I was the earth, and emotions bombarded me like a meteor storm. I felt my body revolving. Everything my eyes fell upon wavered. I steadied myself on Emma's shoulders and put my body in front of her, my fingers still gripping. "What, Em? What is it?"
She drew a troubled breath. "There's nothing to tell. I was hoping you would have come to terms with this by now, but you don't seem to be any closer to a resolution." She let out a breath.
"Have you seen him?"
"No."
"Heard from him?"
"No, but he's reaching out to you." Her gaze shifte
d to the counter. "Maybe you should talk to him."
"I don't know if I can. There's this thing inside me, like a wall I can't seem to get over." I shuddered. "It was such a roller coaster."
"I understand. I had hoped you'd be able to move on by now. Are you going to open the box?"
After a soulful moment, I took the deepest breath of my life, and slid the ribbon off the box. After wrapping it around my hair, I lifted the cover. A dozen crisp white rosebuds were buried beneath tissue paper. Carefully separating the stems, I brought the sweetness to my nose. The fragrance almost swept me off my feet. Roses cradled in my arms, I read the note:
To the part of my world that shines brightest;
Jewelia, my joy.
Love is a gentle song which leads a heart to a meadow
The fragrance of paradise, a thoughtful hand on a shoulder
Love is every perfect note in the sound of your voice
The lifetime I've spent in search of you
Each breath I take missing you
Your sigh when you're fast asleep
Memories I'll forever keep
Love is your eyes when they gaze into mine
A traveler of sorrow, a soul lost in time.
I love you, Jewelia.
Always, Jimmy
UNDER ARREST?
My beautiful roses found a place in an antique vase on my bedroom dresser. Before their delicate petals wilted, I pressed them in a favorite book. Each night before bed I read Indigo's note, then slid it back under my pillow; I knew the words by heart, but savored them just the same. All the while, I fought an internal battle. Could I handle the risk – or should I close the door forever? Maybe I just wasn't cut out for love.
While struggling with my demons, I continued to work at AMA on weekends, while I excelled at the academy. I was chosen to be the leader of my squad, which meant I had to ensure that everyone was squared away with their uniforms and other incidentals, and that they were present and accounted for at all times. I also had the responsibility of making sure everyone completed their tasks properly. The wheels were in motion. I seemed to be on the right track and things were looking fantastic ... academy-wise.
Then, without warning, my new world in the making, began to fall apart. One Saturday evening, after I'd left my shift, there was a break-in at AMA. When I heard the news I was astonished.
The security in that place was so tight, I couldn't believe anyone would have the nerve, or be dumb enough to try it. But someone did, managing to remain under the radar. The thief was slick: dressed in black, face shadowed by a wide-brimmed hat. And smart. The alarm system had been successfully disabled. Someone had done their homework.
We discussed the case in class, learning the camera had captured the perpetrator's image, still the police weren't able to make an ID. The videos were grainy, but with the help of the lab, might be enough to pin the crime on someone, if they had any leads. The story was all over the papers, and apparently, he or she had made quite a haul.
The following weekend at work, I stared at the newly replaced jewelry cabinets. A major aspect of my life, I had a loyalty to AMA. I lifted my eyes to the ceiling, analyzing at the camera lens embedded into the corner, shaking my head. I felt personally violated. Refocusing, my gaze washed over the sparkling new glass counters, and I noticed the empty velvet niche. Had the necklace I loved been sold, or had it been part of the heist? How dare they! My stomach churned.
A few weekends later, another high-class store was burglarized further uptown, and the pattern appeared to be the same. Money was never taken. Valuable electronics weren't touched. All the thief seemed to be interested in was gold, gemstones and diamonds. The cameras had captured the profile, and back of the thief's head, but the face remained well disguised by the brim of a hat. Still, authorities were able to match the videos and the consensus was the same individual had committed both crimes.
We had a serial burglar roaming the city. Security was beefed up. Besides being headline news, the case became the topic of lectures at the academy, where all hell broke loose after a third break-in occurred in another upscale department store.
Not long after, I was called into the office of my superior. Two NYPD officers stood at attention beside the door. The captain scrutinized me, then dropped the bomb. "Ms. Delarosa, we seem to have a problem."
My heart sank. "What's that, sir?" While my legs trembled, I managed to maintain an alert stance. "I've been on time, been keeping my squad intact." My mind raced, attempting to grasp exactly what I'd done wrong.
"It's come to our attention," his voice was gruff, "that you're a suspect in the recent string of burglaries." His eyes traveled to the officers and back. Shock ebbed from his face, only to be replaced by disappointment.
"But. What? Oh my God. I would never ..." Every ounce of blood drained into my feet, which felt like they were filled with lead. "Am I going to be fired?"
"Not at this time, but we'll be keeping a watchful eye on you, until you are hopefully cleared and not charged. These officers are going to escort you to the station."
"I'm being arrested?" My entire being tensed. Pooled blood rushed to my face, throbbed in my head.
"I didn't say that." The intensity in his brown eyes softened, but only slightly. "You're being taken in for questioning."
"I can't believe this!" Outraged, I fought to control my reaction. The worst thing I could do would be to fly off the handle with those controlling my future.
"Take it easy, Delarosa. You're not under arrest yet."
"Yet?" About to flare, I gritted my teeth as the captain showed me to the door.
The officers escorted me to a patrol car and transported me to the station where I was interrogated by two detectives who handed me composite drawings created from the video clips. The pictures were of someone with long dark hair. The suspect seemed to be close to my stature, with a similar profile, and wore a floppy hat I'd never include in my wardrobe.
"I'm sorry, detective," knowing my rights I protested, "but this could be anyone. The features are indistinguishable. The photos are blurred and they're murky. Skin color is undeterminable, as are the eyes. I don't understand why I'm being accused, and I resent being– "
"This isn't all we have, Ms. Delarosa," raising a hand, and his voice, the stocky man cut me right off. "Is there something you want to tell us, or do you want us to continue? We can make this easy, or we can make it difficult."
"This is ridiculous." Of course my mouth hung open like a stretched out rubber band ... I was powerless. My lips barely moved. "I have nothing to hide, and nothing to say other than you have the wrong person."
"We have a witness who swears to have seen you wearing one of the stolen items."
"What?" I almost fell off the chair. My heart thundered in my chest. My life was on the doorstep of catastrophe. I fought to organize my thoughts.
"A gold necklace. The description matches an expensive piece of jewelry taken from AMA, the store where you work. Sound familiar to you?"
The second detective, young and wiry, addressed the first. "Makes sense to me. She knows the system, the layout." He acted as if I wasn't sitting right in front of him! Condemning me for a crime I hadn't committed. Treating me as worthless, he sized me up, shook his head and let out a chuckle sounding more like a snarl. His demeanor made me long to shrink out of my uniform, or crawl beneath his desk, a more plausible alternative. I was being framed, possibly kicked out of the academy, and thanks to some so-called witness, might be losing my job, too.
I burst into tears, then I called Pete. From his end of the phone he vouched for me, swearing I'd been with him every Saturday night. His voice was so harsh, I heard it through the receiver the detective held an inch from his ear.
* * *
"Pete. It's her." I told my plain clothes best male friend as he took me home. I was in bad shape. My legs were so weak, he half carried me up the stairs and into my apartment.
"It's her? You mean Vanessa?"
&nbs
p; "Yes, Pete. It has to be her. Who else would set me up?"
"But you and Indigo broke up. What reason does she have to stalk you?"
"She hates me. Isn't that reason enough? We've got to catch her in the act." My eyes narrowed, the wheels in my jumbled brain turning. "Beat her at her own game. She's got the stuff, Pete. I know it in my heart. If we can pin it on her, I'm vindicated."
While we stood in the kitchen, Pete scrubbed his chin. "Okay. But we've got to think this through. We need to put a tail on her. Someone we can trust."
I lifted a brow. "I'm free every night. Who better?" My head filled with scenarios.
"Ah ah, Kit Kat. I'm not sure about this. If anyone found out, it could land you in more hot water, maybe even prison. There are laws protecting witnesses."
"She's not a witness! She's a liar!" I backed against the wall, burying my face in my hands.
Pete's arms went around me. "Hang in there, Jewel. I'll do what I can."
For the rest of the day I sat stiff in a chair like a chunk of ice, which is how Emma found me when she returned from work. With a horrified look on her face she listened to my story, angered, then bunched an afghan up to my neck. Together we sat for hours, nursing chamomile tea and my nerves.
Pete called that night. He'd been able to obtain Vanessa's address, and we learned she was living in a seedy part of the city. The next evening, armed with sandwiches and lattes, we configured our stakeout.
"Why would an heiress live here, Pete?" I said, considering she might have rented the apartment as a cover up, moseying back to Park Avenue after each crime.
"You've got me, Kit Kat. Maybe she leads a double life. Maybe she's looking for excitement. Maybe she's just a lunatic."
Scanning the area, I commented, "I could think of a million other places to find excitement. Look at the overflowing dumpsters. The dog do on the sidewalk. The bars on some of the windows."
Hidden in shadows, Pete and I hung out across the street from the rundown apartment, spending most of the time tucked into an alley. It was Pete's night off. A steady breeze brought a chill to the night. While I held down the fort, Pete walked to a nearby deli and returned with hot coffee. We surveyed the front door until three a.m., but saw no sign of Vanessa either entering or leaving.
Head Over Wheels (Spicy Young Romance) Page 34
