by Dana Nussio
“I see that.”
She lifted her head and pinned Jamie with her questioning stare.
“I’d just thought of something,” he said, and then cleared his throat.
That something had seemed like a far better idea while he was still outside, his shoes resting on last night’s puddles that had dried to a crusty mud. But he couldn’t just watch her pulling away after spending the past year dreaming up ways to get closer to her. When his questions multiplied exponentially with every vague answer she gave. And when each moment with her made him crave another.
“That you can play before work?” Aiden asked hopefully.
“Not today. Sorry. But I was wondering if you,” he paused, his gaze darting to Sarah, “and your mom...might like to join me for a day at the Detroit Zoo on Saturday.”
“The zoo! Really?”
Aiden’s squeals caused several diners to turn toward the commotion. In contrast to the boy’s body, which vibrated with excitement, Sarah stilled.
“That’s nice of you to ask, but I don’t think—”
“Please, Mom!”
She shook her head, her gaze darting to the door before settling again on her son. “Sorry, Aiden.”
The boy crossed his arms. “But I want to go.”
“Not this time.”
“We never get to go to the zoo. Never ever.”
Sarah tightened her jaw as if preparing to correct her son, but then her shoulders slumped.
Jamie swallowed. He was a jerk, wasn’t he? Worse maybe than even the lechers she dodged at work every day. What kind of guy used a child to get to his mother? What kind of person invited them on an adventure a struggling single mom couldn’t easily afford?
He still had so many questions. How did the two of them end up here? How could Aiden’s father have left him? Left her? Most of all, though, Jamie wanted to know what put that stark look in her eyes. But just because he regretted not asking Mark enough questions before it was too late, that didn’t make wanting to know things about Sarah excuse enough to manipulate her. She deserved better than that. Better than him.
“It was just an idea,” he began.
“Please...!”
This time Aiden’s plea was so drawn out that it sounded like two syllables.
Again, Sarah shook her head, and when she spoke again, she didn’t look at Jamie.
“It was so nice of you to ask, but I always work the day shift on Saturdays.” She finally met his gaze.
“Well, not this Saturday.”
They all turned at the sound of Ted’s voice. When the restaurant owner had slipped past other diners to reach them, Jamie wasn’t sure.
Ted patted Sarah’s shoulder. “Marilyn can take your shift. She owes you, don’t you think? And every kid needs a trip to the zoo, right?”
He gave an exaggerated wink and then patted Aiden’s shoulder. Sarah’s side glance suggested she didn’t appreciate Ted’s matchmaking any more than she relished Jamie’s invitation, but she sighed.
Aiden must have noticed the change, as he was bouncing again.
“So, can we go, Mom? I want to see the new penguin exhibit and the tigers and the Kodiak bears.”
Whether it was because her son had just listed some of the most popular exhibits at the Detroit Zoo as if he’d been researching them or that their arguments had worn her down, she nodded.
“Yes, we can go.”
The words rang in Jamie’s ears. He’d won. He would get to spend a full day with a woman he’d dreamed of and a child he adored. She’d required some convincing, but they would have a great time on Saturday. He would make sure of that. So why did he get the feeling he was just one in a long line of people who’d taken something away from Sarah Cline?
Chapter 5
At the grind of metal on metal and the burst of frostbitten air on the back of his neck, Jamie turned from his desktop computer to the steel door that separated the squad room from the parking lot. He hated that the hair on his nape lifted and that he was tempted to cover the monitor so that his fellow troopers wouldn’t see it.
He was being ridiculous. Nobody cared about the mundane information he was typing into the fields of the property-damage accident report. Now the stuff he’d been searching for a few hours earlier, information about a certain young waitress—his fellow troopers would have been very interested in those details. That is, if he’d found anything. And he hadn’t.
It didn’t surprise him that of the forty-two “Sarah Clines” an online directory listed as living in Michigan, Indiana and Ohio, none had a Brighton address. Those lists were always incomplete, especially for more transient populations. But that was only the first dead end he’d hit tonight. She had no social-media profiles. No embarrassing photos that popped up under a name and image search. He didn’t have her Social Security number to prove it yet, but he would bet she didn’t have a bank account or a credit history, either. It was as if two years ago she’d dropped out of the sky into Livingston County, and part of him was afraid to ask why.
“Hey, Donovan.” Nick Sanchez shook the rain from his hair as he barreled through the doorway. He shoved his radio into a slot in the charging station.
Jamie nodded. “Sanchez.”
“You don’t usually beat the rest of us back to the post.”
“Still have a few reports to finish.” Those would have been completed, too, if he’d stuck to splitting his time between clocking speeding motorists and knocking out reports while parked at the US 23 exit near Hartland. Instead, he’d sneaked searches on the Law Enforcement Information Network, LEIN, which could land him in big trouble if anyone noticed, to hunt down details on a woman he had the hots for.
“Busy night?” Nick asked, as he continued to watch him.
“Just a few property-damage accidents and a minor personal-injury accident.”
“Unlucky you. I just had a few stranded motorists and one DUI, but she’s already cooling her heels at Livingston County Jail. Report’s submitted with all the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed.”
Jamie gave him a sardonic smile and then turned back to his own report, which was no more than halfway complete.
“You doing okay after last night?”
He startled, as Nick had moved closer to him without his notice. For someone in a career where noting details could make the difference between waking up in the morning and being stretched out in a drawer at the medical examiner’s office, he needed to pay closer attention.
“I asked if you’re doing okay after—”
“Oh. Sure. Sure.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I can’t believe all of that happened only yesterday. Seems like a long time ago.”
He could say that again times ten. So much time seemed to have passed, but only he knew how little that had to do with the suicide call. What would Mark have thought when he saw how easily Jamie had compartmentalized thoughts of that unfortunate guy’s death?
“Glad you’re bouncing back. It was a tough call.”
“I’m good. Really.” But because the images were rolling back faster now than he wanted them to, he changed the subject. “You said the suspect was female. Did it at least take some of the sting out that you were the one Mirandizing her?”
Nick’s eyebrow lifted, but his smile still widened, his suspicion over the question losing to his cockiness, just as Jamie had predicted it would.
“She and my mom might have gone to high school together, but to your question, she didn’t fight the cuffs too much.”
“Did he mention that she puked in his car, and he had to have it hosed down?”
Both men turned to find Shane Warner standing in his street clothes just outside the men’s locker room. Shane had come by a few moments before, barely waving as he’d rushed in to change out of his uniform.
Nick shrugged, his grin remaining. “Details, det
ails. Anyway, somebody’s gotta pick up the slack now that you’re all domesticated.”
Shane slid into his jacket with a fluid movement that no longer hinted at the gunshot wound he’d sustained a year earlier. The wound that had briefly put him in a wheelchair and had introduced him to the physical therapist who would become his wife.
“Domesticated?” Nick repeated with a laugh. “I’ll have to tell Natalie you said that. She thinks I’ve got a ways to go before I’m presentable in polite society.”
“Did you leave the seat up for her to fall in last night?” Jamie asked.
This time the other officers looked his way, their expressions skeptical. Okay, he wasn’t usually the one who fired first in their banter wars, but if the past twenty-four hours had taught him anything, it was that things could change. Sometimes more than a guy could predict in his best dreams.
“Well?” he prompted, and then turned back to the screen so that no one would see his stupid grin that had nothing to do with his question.
“I’m not a barbarian. But close.”
“So, Donovan, what do you think about that almost barbarian blowing off his friends...again...to go home to his new wife?”
Jamie turned his head to the side to answer. “Oh. You know, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it, either.”
“You, neither?” Nick said. “You don’t even have a good excuse.”
They had no idea. “Sorry, man. Busy tonight.”
“Busy, huh?” Shane asked.
Jamie didn’t say more, and, despite the looks they had probably trained on his back, he knew they wouldn’t ask. It was a guy code kind of thing. A few of them hadn’t even mentioned they were dating someone until they mailed their wedding invitations.
The door opening a second time saved him from expanding on that thought. He might have fantasized about Sarah for months in ways that would put some of his fellow troopers to shame, but that didn’t mean his wayward thoughts had taken him there.
This time several troopers poured through the door, rain dripping off their outer coats and waterproof covers that protected their uniform hats. Third-shift troopers emerging from the locker rooms grimaced as they passed them, their wet and likely busy shift on Michigan’s highways only beginning.
Vinnie Leonetti shoved his hand back through his black hair, which was so wet it looked as if it had been slicked with hair oil. “Guess we’re the ones swimming in tonight. Good thing the third-shift folks always ride in pairs. They’ll be ready to meet up with Noah and his ark.”
Lieutenant Ben Peterson only shook his head at him. “Just don’t give up your day job, okay, buddy? The comedy circuit isn’t ready for your brand of humor.”
The truth was that Jamie wasn’t ready to be with any of them tonight, which he had to admit was strange. These men and women were his best friends. They were his most fervent supporters. His people.
But for two nights in a row, he’d wanted to step back from them. Last night because his own secrets were peeking from behind the dark curtain of his memory, and tonight because of hers. They were also already watching him too closely after his case last night. They were too familiar with his habits, his triggers.
He couldn’t spend another evening under the close inspection of a group of professionals trained to sniff out secrets and identify liars. Not when he was searching for the first and, if asked enough questions, might do the second.
So, he waved away the additional invitations and returned to the form on the monitor. He had plenty of screen time ahead of him at home tonight, as well. He didn’t care how many roadblocks he faced. Before Saturday, he intended to know everything there was to know about Sarah Cline. And what he couldn’t find out online, he was just going to have to ask her in person.
* * *
Sarah aimed her digital camera at the five-hundred-pound western lowland gorilla as it lounged on a low branch in the Great Apes of Harambee attraction. The animal paid no attention to the man and boy making silly faces at it from the other side of the glass.
“Do you think he can see us through the window, Mom?” Aiden asked.
“I don’t know. Can you see him?”
The boy drew his eyebrows together and rested his hands on the glass as if that would help him answer her question. He must have remembered Jamie’s warning not to disturb the animals by pounding on the window, as his touch was gentle.
“Yes. I can see him.”
“Well, it’s just a thick window. He can see you...if he wants to, anyway.”
Sarah turned with her camera and caught Jamie and Aiden in a goofy pose, one of many moments she’d captured on her memory card during their three hours at the Detroit Zoo. From the first frame, she’d convinced herself not to be jealous of the two of them together, even if Aiden’s smile was so wide that he’d reopened the tiny split in his chapped lower lip.
She was just content being able to play with her son while disappearing into this crowd of animal lovers. They seemed to be invisible to the world, and today she would pretend that was true.
Now she couldn’t resist grinning at the boy, who kept waving at the unimpressed gorilla.
“He just agrees that you two look ridiculous, and he’s trying to ignore you.”
“Hey, I’m offended.”
Jamie pursed his lips in a deep frown that slid into a grin as he nabbed her son under the arms and swung him in a low circle. With the backpack he was being secretive about on his back and a first-grader swinging from his arms, he narrowly missed a mother pushing an empty stroller.
“Oh. Sorry, ma’am.” He lowered Aiden to the floor again.
“Why can’t you two relax like Mr. Silverback in there?”
Sarah gestured toward the habitat just as one of the three bachelor gorillas winged a banana peel at the glass next to where her son and his friend stood.
“Look, Mom. He threw a banana.”
“Sure you want us to relax like that?” Jamie asked.
The creature nibbled on its banana as if it wasn’t responsible for the smear on the window.
“Maybe not exactly like that, but he knows you’re out there, and he knows a couple of poser primates when he sees them.”
“Us?” Jamie leaned forward and allowed his arms to hang loose like the chimpanzees they’d visited a few minutes before. “Ooh-ooh-ooh.”
Aiden imitated him, and soon the two of them were chasing each other out of the exhibit and into the rest of the African Forest habitat. Sarah hushed them, but she was laughing again by the time she caught up with them. In fact, she’d laughed so hard all day that she’d had to remind herself to keep up her guard.
“The animals are wondering why you guys get to run around free while they have to stay in their habitats.”
“You kidding? Some of them are probably just wondering if we’d make a tasty lunch.” Jamie ruffled Aiden’s hair. “I happen to think we’d be delicious.”
Oh, he’d be delicious, all right. Sarah blinked, the thought as unexpected as the sensation that skimmed up her arms like a caress. What was that about? She zipped her light canvas jacket higher, though it had no chance of keeping her warm now.
“Right. Delicious,” Aiden said.
She would have admired the way her son tried to match Jamie’s stride as they continued to the Asian Forest habitat, but she was too busy trying not to notice how Jamie’s biceps strained against his jacket. She had no more business paying attention to his muscles than she had noticing how his eyes sparkled when he told a joke. And the way he spoke to and listened to her son, well, a woman might find that terribly sexy if she wasn’t careful.
But she was careful. At least she had been until this week, when she’d written Jamie that note and sent her own world careening off its globe stand. She needed to return to the controlled, safe spin of that world, and she would...after today. She wanted to
give Aiden this one carefree day. The kind of day all children deserved to have and her son had been denied because of her poor choices. She would give this to her son, at least this, even if it meant spending time with a police officer whose company wasn’t as unpleasant as it should have been.
To ensure that she kept her thoughts where they belonged, she grabbed the camera hanging from a strap on her wrist and centered her son ‘s image in the LCD screen.
“I can’t believe that you’re still taking pictures with a regular camera,” Jamie said, as he dropped back to stand next to her.
Her hands jerked just as she clicked the button. “Now look what you made me do.”
Jamie stretched his neck to get a look at the image on her screen. Aiden’s face was a blurry blob, with an even fuzzier red panda lazing in a tree in the distance. “Sorry. It’s just that most people use their phones these days. Anyway, you wouldn’t have missed the shot if you weren’t always so jumpy.”
Always? She kept her expression steady, but her hands betrayed her and shook again. She deleted the second blurry image and took a few clearer ones, but she couldn’t as easily wipe away his confession that he’d been watching her. If he had been, what else had he witnessed that she hadn’t wanted anyone to know?
“Anyway, I like my camera,” she said, to fill the awkward silence. “It takes better photos than a phone. At least my phone. Not everyone can afford a fancy new one every time the cell companies hype the latest model.”
“Don’t I know it.”
At least he didn’t ask more about the phone she did have. She could only imagine what he would think if he saw her burner feature phone, which barely had a camera at all.
“If those last few shots are any clue, I can do as good a job as you.”
Before she could answer, he stepped closer and extended a hand for her to pass her camera to him.
She held it away from him. “I do perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”
“I’m sure you do, but you haven’t been in any of the photos with Aiden today.”