by V. K. Powell
“Early? It’s seven in the morning. I’ve been on duty for over an hour. Come ride with me for a while, see the troops in action, and survey your queendom. You’ve holed up in your office for the past two days, pretending to work. Why are you still in bed?”
“Contemplating moving somewhere my family doesn’t have such easy access. What if I’d had someone in here?”
Jazz arched an eyebrow. “Really? When was the last time a woman stayed overnight? For that matter, the last time you spent the night with a woman after you sexed her up?”
“Seriously? What does that even mean? And we’re not talking about my sex life at seven in the morning. What are we talking about, by the way? Why are you here?”
“You haven’t been to the house for a meal since Sunday. Dylan, your mini-me, hasn’t even seen you. So, you know what had to happen.”
When the family worried about Bennett, Jazz got reconnaissance duty. If Dylan went AWOL, Bennett checked things out. Since her meeting with Kerstin on Monday, she hadn’t been in the mood to mingle with anyone, family or otherwise. “I’m fine. Besides, Sunday was only three days ago.”
“You or Simon don’t show up for meals? Something is definitely wrong.”
“Stop it, Jazz.” Her voice sounded harsher than she intended.
Her sister winced, her brown eyes suddenly guarded. Her first foster parents had been critical and impatient, and Bennett was occasionally reminded of how much Jazz had overcome and surprised by how a word or tone could still disturb her.
“I’m sorry.” Bennett didn’t want to talk about Kerstin again, but the effect of her tone on Jazz made her soften. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Forgive me?” She couldn’t bear to be the person who made her sister uncomfortable for any reason.
Jazz nodded, but the uneasiness between them lingered.
Bennett scooted closer and hugged her lightly. “I’m really sorry. Sometimes I can be a real shit. Do you have time for coffee?”
“I always have time for coffee.” She punched Bennett on the arm and headed for the small kitchenette. Everything was right again.
Bennett made coffee, and Jazz perched on a barstool, her radio interrupting the silence with calls for service. “Sounds like a busy morning. Anything significant overnight?”
“Not really. A robbery, assaults, and several drunk-driving arrests. The usual.” She plugged her earpiece into the radio to silence the chatter and glanced at Bennett as she poured the coffee and handed her a cup across the bar. “Should I wait until you finish your first dose before I ask what’s going on?”
Bennett hopped up on the counter and cradled her mug in her hands. “I’m not sure about the situation with Kerstin.” Jazz waited. “We had a meeting on Monday to walk through the substation, and I assumed we’d spend most of the day working through plan changes, but she cut it short with no explanation. Haven’t heard from her since.”
“Uh-huh.”
Once she’d said the words aloud, her reason for being upset sounded lame. She added some urgency to the situation. “We have a big meeting soon, and a lot of stuff is still unresolved. We’re wasting time and money every day the builders aren’t on site.”
“What’s really bothering you?” Jazz paused, no doubt giving Bennett time to come to the truth on her own. She didn’t respond, so Jazz continued. “Sounds like you had expectations of spending time with Kerstin, and they didn’t work out.” Jazz gave her a skeptical look.
Bennett took several sips of coffee, hiding her face and guilty expression in her mug until she could answer honestly. “She phoned from New York on Sunday, and I heard a woman’s voice in the background calling her dear. Might have something to do with my foul mood. She wouldn’t talk about her. And she goes back to this woman every weekend.”
“I see.”
“That’s all I get?”
“You don’t need me to tell you what to do, Ben. You know what’s right.”
The problem was she wanted a second chance with Kerstin after all these years. Right or wrong? She needed to focus and prove her worth on this project and to Kerstin as well. Wrong or right? She was torn between loyalty to her profession and desire for a woman she harbored unresolved feelings for. “What if the right thing isn’t what I want?”
“You’ll have to negotiate with yourself, with her, and with your career until you can both live with the outcome. Mixing business and pleasure isn’t easy. Add a painful past, and things get really tricky. Think carefully before you go there.”
“Yeah. Really.”
Jazz cocked her head to one side, and a serious look crossed her face as she stood, finished her coffee, and gave her a two-fingered salute. “Duty calls, but I’ve got a few minutes, if you want to get dressed.”
“Maybe I’ll catch you later. I’m not in the mood to rush.”
“You know where I’ll be.”
“What? No last words of wisdom?”
Jazz paused at the door. “I keep repeating myself. Be patient, follow Kerstin’s lead, and let her make the first move. Can you?”
Bennett started to answer yes immediately but hesitated. She’d been in limbo most of her life waiting for the right woman, and her patience was running out. “Honestly, sis, I don’t know.”
* * *
Kerstin crinkled another sheet of tracing paper into a ball and shot it toward the tiny overflowing hotel wastebasket with her other failed efforts of the morning. She was exhausted, her shoulders a mass of bunched, tense nerves and muscle. She hadn’t engaged in her go-to stress buster since the project started, and her body objected strongly. Her quick runs back to New York weren’t long enough to visit her regular haunts, and with her mother in residence, she couldn’t employ a service for a much-needed house call. Maybe she’d establish at least one source she could utilize while trapped in small-town USA, but where would she look for a casual partner guaranteed not to get attached or broadcast her personal business? She shook the ridiculous idea from her mind and returned to the plans spread out in front of her.
She’d easily blended Bennett’s suggestions for the public space into the original floor plans, but anticipating other changes frustrated her. What did cops need or want in a precinct house? Damn, she hated feeling inept. A hammering headache kept her up half the night, and a slightly upset stomach welcomed her this morning. Her whole system seemed out of sync. The only thing that affected her this much was losing control of a situation, and she was definitely out of her comfort zone with Bennett Carlyle intruding into her professional life.
If they’d completed the walk-through, she might’ve finished the revisions before the full committee meeting this afternoon. Maybe Bennett would view her early modifications as an act of good faith and back her up with the group. One of her mother’s old sayings came to mind: “If you trust a person to do what they’ve always done, you’ll never be disappointed.” The maxim didn’t bode well for Bennett or their working future, but she didn’t have a choice. Time was not on her side, and the question needled her repeatedly.
She rose from the confining desk, stretched her back, and walked to the large windows overlooking a partially wooded creek bed. Cooler overnight temperatures had created ground fog hovering above the surface of a stream that curved and eventually disappeared from view. The condensation ebbed and flowed on a slight breeze, giving the area an otherworldly aura. One of the reasons she’d booked into the Proximity was the hotel’s designation as the nation’s first to receive honors from the U.S. Green Building Council. Supporting the environment and sustainable housing were ideals she planned to adopt in her firm.
Taking a deep, steady breath, she allowed the vision of sky and earth to soothe the real quandary roiling inside—what to do about Bennett. She was torn over her attraction for Bennett, the woman, her respect for Bennett, the dedicated police captain, and her memories of a reckless teenager. Any time they got too close, Kerstin bolted like a scared animal, abandoning work and self-respect. The possibility of a relati
onship had vanished years ago. Yet her fanciful adolescent dreams remained entwined with hopes for the future. If she teased apart one small tangle, the rest might unravel and bury her.
The alarm on Kerstin’s phone sounded, a reminder she had only two hours before the first meeting with the full building committee, and she was no closer to a completed plan she could sell to everyone. She rolled the drawings, placed them in her tote, and headed toward the shower. Maybe her trust in Bennett Carlyle wasn’t misplaced this time.
* * *
Kerstin paused outside the conference room and steeled herself for the first glimpse of Bennett since her indecorous exit on Monday. She opened the door slowly, squared her shoulders, and plowed ahead. Her preparation failed. Bennett wore her black, tailored uniform complete with gun and handcuffs that elicited vivid fantasies. She shook her head and willed her pulse to slow. Bennett was engaged in light, friendly conversation with the other committee members at a small table covered with food. She usually held center court with her charming personality, and food couldn’t hurt in an obligatory meeting. Their eyes met, and Bennett smiled. Kerstin’s stomach took another acrobatic dive.
Bennett waved her over. “Come meet everybody and try these. Ma Rolls sent some snacks, meat treats wrapped in filo, whatever.”
“Pass on the food.” She waited as Bennett introduced her to the three men. The public-works and city-planner guys focused on filling paper plates and barely looked up, but the third eyed her as she walked over.
“And this is Chip Armstrong, rep from the manager’s office.”
What self-respecting adult male allowed people to call him Chip? And he looked like her stereotypical image of a Chip—tall, blond hair, blue eyes, expensive trousers and shoes, fancied himself a ladies’ man in spite of the wedding band on his finger, and oozed a cocky attitude that probably turned more women off than on.
Chip stepped forward, offered his hand, and held hers way too long after the mandatory shake. “It’s a pleasure indeed, Mrs. Anthony, or is it Miss?” His eyes traveled the length of her body and back up to her breasts.
“Ms. Anthony.” She started to ask if he stared at other women’s breasts in his wife’s presence. The comment wouldn’t help their working relationship. “Nice to meet you all. Shall we get started?” Everybody looked toward Bennett. Damn. Kerstin had overstepped because Bennett served as the committee chair. “When you’re ready, of course.”
Bennett gave her a quick smile, passed the plate of food around again, successfully redirecting everybody’s attention, and nodded to her. “Carry on, Ms. Anthony.”
Kerstin could’ve kissed her for the save. She left her drawings in the bag beside her seat, hoping no one would ask to see them until she’d completed the revisions. “On behalf of Parrish Designs, I’m honored to be part of Greensboro Police Department’s first substation project. I look forward to working with each of you as we make this the absolute best facility possible.” Political niceties out of the way, she dove into the meat of the issue. “As you’re aware, loss of the original architect and police manager stopped work on the project while Captain Carlyle and I reassessed the plans.”
“Is there something wrong with the original drawings?” the city planner asked.
Kerstin shifted, uncomfortable telling a group of city employees and the man who held the purse strings for the project that her predecessor was, in her opinion, a professional embarrassment. “There’s nothing necessarily wrong, but we need to flesh out some details.”
Public-works guy, his mouth half full, asked, “Is that polite-speak for a screw-up?”
Kerstin considered throwing Gilbert Early under the bus. He hadn’t done anything to help her career, exactly the opposite, but being vindictive was counterproductive. “We have different architectural ideas and styles. Captain Carlyle and I have done a partial walk-through and discovered a few issues we’ll need to address.”
“Can work resume immediately?” Chip asked. “The manager’s office is anxious for the facility to be finished on time and certainly on budget.”
“I think we can start back next week with a few minor revisions while we make further assessments on larger items.” She’d studied every option critically before reaching a workable solution that allowed preliminary work coupled with continuing evaluation.
“Wait. What?” Bennett’s eyes widened.
Kerstin’s heart pounded erratically. “Bennett—”
“I’m not comfortable resuming work. We haven’t completed an evaluation of the current plan or a walk-through of the building. Construction should be held up until we’re finished.”
Her brown eyes were dark and their gold flecks sparked. The strained tone of her voice suggested considerable control, but Kerstin sensed underlying anger. “We talked about the public lobby space—”
“Yes.”
“And security between the lobby and police spaces, so—”
“And that was as far as we got.”
The three men’s heads pivoted back and forth with each exchange, and Chip leaned forward in his chair as if hoping for a catfight.
“If you’d let me finish a sentence, I’d—”
“Stop.” Bennett held up her hand and touched the listening device protruding from her left ear. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”
“What?” Kerstin stood and waved toward the others. “We’re in the middle of a meeting.”
“Reschedule.” Bennett headed for the door.
“Guess we’ll have to get used to the captain rushing out,” Chip said.
Kerstin’s worst fear unfolded—thrown under the bus by her supposed partner on the most important project of her career. She’d trusted Bennett, but finding out in public she’d made a mistake was the ultimate betrayal. She grabbed her tote and charged after Bennett. “You might have to, but I don’t.”
Chapter Nine
“Wait.” Kerstin raced down the hall to catch Bennett, but she wasn’t slowing.
“I don’t have time.”
Kerstin came alongside her before she reached the exterior door. “You threw me to the wolves, and I don’t even get an explanation?”
“I really cannot talk right now.”
Bennett met her gaze for an instant before pushing through the door, and Kerstin saw sadness and something akin to anguish etched in the lines of her face. But she wouldn’t be put off, emergency or not. She followed Bennett to her vehicle and climbed in. “We are going to talk about what happened, now or later.”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to take the time to put me out because I’m not leaving.”
Without looking at her, Bennett said, “Then you better hold on.” She spun out of the parking lot, steering with one hand and dialing her phone with the other.
Kerstin pulled her seat belt tighter and grabbed the dashboard, feeling queasy at the abrupt change in direction.
“Jazz, what do we know?”
Kerstin couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but from Bennett’s expression, something was terribly wrong.
Bennett pressed her lips tightly together while she listened and barreled through intersections. “I see. How badly is he hurt? Any fatalities?” She flinched at the response. “I’m sure you’ve already done so, but make sure an officer stays with the family once they arrive. I’ll see you at the hospital.”
“What’s going on, Bennett? Why are we going to the hospital?” The last place she wanted to be was in a medical facility of any kind. She’d spent too many days and nights in those places after her mother’s stroke. Kerstin shook her head to clear some of the horrible images. Her sweaty palms slid off the dashboard, and her shoulder rammed into the door.
“Hold on, please.” Bennett shot her a concerned look. “Officer injured. High-speed chase. One fatality, innocent bystander.” She slowed at an intersection and stared at her a second longer. “You okay? You’re really pale.”
“I don’t like hospital
s.”
“You don’t have to come in. Probably best if you don’t.” Bennett slid the car to a stop near the emergency bays. “Taxis come and go regularly outside the main entrance.”
Bennett sprinted away before Kerstin could reply, and she suddenly felt petty for chasing her to discuss something that now seemed insignificant. Someone was dead, and someone Bennett cared about was injured. Choking down her discomfort, she opened the car door and slowly followed Bennett’s path inside. She was easy to spot in the crowded waiting room surrounded by a group of uniformed officers, talking in hushed voices. Kerstin edged closer.
“Is everybody okay?” Bennett looked to each officer and waited for his or her response. “Were any of you involved in the actual chase?” A young female and an older male nodded, while the others shook their heads. “Okay. Don’t talk about it with anyone else or each other until after the Internal Affairs interview. Understood?” They nodded again. “Have we gotten an update on our officer yet?” The group fell silent.
An attractive redheaded nurse approached and touched Bennett’s forearm, smoothing her hand back and forth like a woman familiar with the terrain. Her smile was warm, her tone full of concern, exactly what a good nurse should be, but Kerstin found her physical familiarity improper under the circumstances.
“Ben, I have a small conference room, if you’d like to move your officers somewhere more private to wait,” the nurse said.
“That would be great, Jen.” She motioned to the officers, and they followed the nurse, Bennett bringing up the rear.
When the last officer took a seat in the small space, Jen said, “I’ll have coffee brought in and let the ER doc know where to find you.”
“Thanks.”
Bennett held Jen’s hand a bit longer than necessary before letting go and turning back to the officers. Kerstin’s fleeting thought that she should be supporting Bennett quickly vanished. They couldn’t even get through one encounter without clashing, and the unpleasant outcome at the meeting didn’t bode well for their future. She stood outside the doorway, unsure if she should interfere with the gathering. Her eyes met Bennett’s for a second before motion at the end of the hall distracted her. A man in a white coat fast-walked toward her, and she signaled to Bennett.