Donuts and Handcuffs

by Haley Travis

  “It was a little family shop that had been in the neighborhood forever. Business wasn’t great anymore since the bigger chains were moving into this little nook. So the family took out a ton of insurance. On Christmas Day, if you can believe it, the son and two of his friends went to burn it down, risking the whole neighborhood. The son was injured, and one of his friends was killed.”

  “Good grief,” I said. “What the hell?”

  “Yeah. And the same family still owns the condos that were built on that spot four years ago. It was actually the first new housing project in this area. They named the building after the mother, Carmeletta.”

  “Well, she sure raised some evil people, didn’t she?”

  Daniel looked down suddenly. “People don’t always take after their families,” he said quietly.

  “I agree with that a thousand percent. But in that case...” I shook my head while rolling my eyes, then quickly poured his coffee. “Snacks today?”

  “Nah, the whole station is in a lousy mood.”

  “Wouldn’t food help?”

  His thick eyebrows raised. “Miss Bailey, are you up-selling your customer?”

  I choked back a laugh. “I’d like to think I was that clever, but no. I was honestly just thinking of cheering people up.”

  Glancing out the window, I saw thick, heavy clouds headed our way. “It’s the air pressure,” I said. “As soon as the rain hits, watch the mood of the room. Everyone will brighten up a bit.”

  The shop was still empty, so I didn’t mind when Daniel came over to kiss my temple. “You truly are clever, Bailey.”

  I wrapped an arm around his waist in a little half hug. “I just read a lot.”

  His lips nuzzled my ear. “You smell so sweet.”

  “Cookies.”

  “You’re very sexy, do you know that?”

  As my lungs seemed to forget their rather important job for a moment, I haltingly whispered, “I know nothing of the sort.”

  He kissed me for a split second before straightening up, trailing his fingers down my back. “I’ll refrain from telling you how sexy you are in front of the unicorn and that weird frog lamp, but next time we hang out, it might come up.”

  Daniel flashed me a grin as he left, leaving me with a racing heart, and tingling skin. He really wanted me. I wanted him so badly I couldn’t think straight. But I was going to have to think straight as an arrow if I was going to sort out this neighborhood arsonist before they struck again.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It took me a few minutes for my rampant sexual desire to calm down. It was almost painful to admit how much I needed to be closer to Daniel. But after a few minutes of slow breathing, my adrenaline rush turned to fear for my new neighborhood.

  Grabbing my phone, I searched for details. It didn’t take long for me to discover that the owners of the Armstrong apartment building were also the owners of the Carter building. That was just a bit too much of a coincidence.

  As much as I loved this city, there seemed to be far too many ways for building owners to change the rules. If there were bylaws in place that prevented anything from being built higher than ten stories, they would simply apply for a twenty-story building. Then they would wheel and deal until the fourteen-story building they really wanted was approved.

  Heritage buildings were often burned to the ground or declared structurally unsafe so that tearing them down and rebuilding new condos seemed like the only logical option.

  And kicking out long-term tenants because of “smoke damage” or “electrical issues” was used to jack up rents with new tenants all the time.

  It was positively disgusting. Yet there was nothing that the authorities could do because the people who really pulled the strings were usually drinking buddies with the evildoers.

  There was no way for anyone to complain. Anyone who went to the media was either laughed at or ignored.

  It was hard to find any evidence that would actually stick. An incident simply appearing far too convenient was not enough to get a search warrant. Even with a tiny bit of circumstantial evidence, these things usually seemed to be swept under the rug.

  I’d seen instances like this happen for years, but this time was different. This was my new neighborhood. Not only could a fire rage out of control and destroy my home and business, but much more importantly, these were now my people.

  The news report had said no one has been injured from the other night’s fire, but had the arsonist taken any precautions? There was no doubt in my mind that it was arson. Like my father always said, if something smells fishy, it’s likely due to fish, so keep paddling around.

  I felt a wave of rage sweeping through me that I didn’t want to believe was part of my character. How dare someone threaten my people’s safety? This was my turf, now. This was my home. And if I learned nothing else through my incredibly strange childhood, it was that a person must defend their home above all else.

  There is no way that I could let this continue.

  For the next few hours, I sold cookies to moms with toddlers, muffins, and coffee to workers needing a break, and brainstormed whether or not I should take matters into my own hands.

  It was severely disturbing to me that I knew I could go find evidence on my own. It filled me with everything from self-loathing to curiosity to relief that I knew that I could stop this before it got worse.

  All the police needed was some kind of hard evidence to do a full investigation. All they needed was an anonymous tip, complete with some sort of documentation such as computer files, emails, or video footage.

  All they needed was one person to go through the building owner’s office and drop off any evidence to the police.

  If I did this, I would be one of the good guys, by being a criminal.

  Breaking and entering was a criminal offense. No matter how I tried to sugarcoat it by knowing that I was helping everyone in this area, it would still be a crime. Even if I stole nothing but data that should be shared, it would be illegal.

  By doing what was right, I would be breaking every rule I had ever made for myself. I would cross lines I swore I would never cross.

  As I scrubbed and swept the shop, I tried to keep my mind away from the thing that was freaking me out most of all. If I were caught, I would have a criminal record. Which would, I assume, completely cancel any chance of a real relationship with Daniel.

  If I were investigated, they would find out my real name, and where I came from. If I were arrested, someone might try to hold me accountable for many things I had nothing to do with. It wouldn’t be fair, but I would understand why others would think that way.

  The thought of no longer having Daniel in my life felt like a truck parked on top of my chest. I could barely breathe. In such a short time, he had given me so much comfort, so much warmth. The feelings brewing between us were opening things inside me that I didn’t even believe truly existed.

  I desperately wanted to be the woman of his dreams. The good girl. The nice baker who made everyone smile, and made him laugh.

  But if my building burned to the ground, I didn’t have enough insurance to rebuild. And if my neighbors were killed over something that I could have prevented, I would lose my mind. If any of the adorable little toddlers who waved and grinned at me every day were hurt due to something I could have prevented, I could never live with myself.

  It was strange how suddenly I was absolutely fine with doing something illegal as soon as I thought of those children. It was like a switch being flipped, with an almost audible snap.

  The decision was made. I would have to get some evidence myself, and stop this before it got worse.

  It probably wasn’t such a big deal. I’d been trained for this. I knew precisely what to do, as accurately as I knew precisely what recipe to use for sugar cookies. Every move, every piece of the puzzle, was already in my brain, in my hands.

  As soon as I cleaned and locked up the shop, I went home to begin mission planning. I made myself a str
ong cup of coffee and opened my laptop to do something I had sworn I never would.

  After disconnecting from my own wi-fi, I borrowed an open connection from the gaming cafe three doors down. I felt guilty about knowing their password, but it was on the sign just inside the door. I couldn’t help that I read it backwards in the security mirror.

  Using a special safe browser that did not allow any trace or footprint, I quickly searched for the owner of the property where the arson took place. I wasn’t allowing myself to think that it had been an accident for one second.

  If something seemed way too convenient, it probably was. There was no way an accidental fire was going to earn someone millions.

  Thankfully, the owner’s name wasn’t very common. It makes people a lot harder to search for if they have a plain name, which is why I had chosen Saunders as my moniker for my new, semi-anonymous life.

  But Vincent Robotham owned fourteen properties in Toronto, six of which were in this neighborhood. They were all older apartment buildings, and in the epicenter of a neighborhood that was becoming gentrified.

  They had also been purchased just four years ago. His other properties were much further uptown, and were all condo developments. Which meant there were five more buildings in this neighborhood that were potential targets for “accidental” fires or other disasters, so that they could be ripped down, leaving dozens of families homeless. These were people who could never afford the glossy new condos that would pop up a few years later.

  Digging further, I didn’t find any reference to a hardware store, but that didn’t mean anything. It could be under a different name.

  Suddenly I remembered another detail of Daniel’s story, and looked up Robotham with the name of that new condo development – Carmeletta. Sure enough, that was the hardware store family’s last name. This new developer was her brother-in-law.

  Fabulous. I just happened to stumble into the lair of another low life criminal family.

  My guts confirmed my decision before my mind ran everything through several times. Just a little evidence. Just enough to make the police take note, and allow them to get search warrants.

  I knew their processes had to be thorough, but that often meant slow. I wasn’t going to let this guy get away with it, and I wasn’t going to let him strike again.

  It shouldn’t be this easy for me. I shouldn’t already have an all-black wardrobe, snug black face scarf, amber tinted sunglasses that reflected light back into camera lenses, super-thin gloves, and lock picks in a secret chamber under my bed. I shouldn’t instinctively know how to turn my head away when approaching security cameras, and always spot them, know their range, and know how to disable them.

  It’s not right, and I hated it. I detested this part of myself, but tried desperately to console myself with the knowledge that lives were at stake. This was not for personal gain. Morally, I was in the clear, even if the law itself would disagree.

  Surveillance of an evil person to potentially save lives was very, extremely, monumentally different than stealing property, I told myself yet again as I casually walked briskly down a back alley. Even if I was stealing information, it was really only borrowing. Copying emails and footage and placing them in the hands of the police. Nothing would be missing.

  I already knew where every camera would be, my hood turned and tipped carefully at all times. Hopefully I was small enough that I looked like any teenager in a black hoodie, off to have a smoke where their mom couldn’t find them.

  I truly loved the city at night. Dark, damp concrete had a slightly different gritty scent that was always strangely comforting. In the back alley, a bit of oil in a puddle spun rainbows as I walked around it.

  My heart was in my throat, but knowing all of the steps inside and out made the actual process simple.

  Side door, old building, no alarm. Picked the lock in under fifteen seconds. Already knew the office location from building plans. Picked the office lock in under ten seconds – cheap replacement door handle that seemed an afterthought. The laptop password was on a sticky note in the top drawer. Downloaded all files containing “Robotham” or “Condo Development”. Found emails from other family members so I had several addresses, and plenty of incriminating conversations..

  Checked old fashioned day planner on the desk – meeting with his brothers in two days here at their building.

  Left the office in under ten minutes. One of the many rules was to never get comfortable, ever. Relocked the office door, skulked down the hall to the back door. Waited. Listened.

  There was a big, older engine rumbling outside. It was bizarre that somehow I knew that the motor was running roughly because the timing was off. Likely a work van. One of my many uncles was a mechanic, but I didn’t realize how much I must have accidentally picked up.

  I paused. Heavy boots going into the front door of the building. Must have been two men. Cracking the back door, I looked out to see a dark van at the top of the alley, opposite from where I wanted to go. My exit was clear, but I needed to listen. I waited until I heard the men making noise as they entered, slipping out just when they wouldn’t hear the soft click of the back door, which thankfully locked automatically.

  All I had to do is stay low until I was at the other end of the alley, then walk home. I’d done it. Everything had gone perfectly. And I was shaking so hard now that I couldn’t possibly do it again correctly. I had somehow pushed the adrenaline rush away, but now that it was hitting me, I was a trembling mess.

  Slowing my breathing, I stayed low, moving slowly down the long alley. I didn’t have to panic. It was over. I even felt a tiny smile touch my lips before I looked up and saw a police officer coming toward me. I’m not sure whether I felt better or worse about the fact that I knew him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The small figure skulking in the rain was nearly invisible, pressed against the dirty concrete wall. Then they crouched slightly, and I noticed they flinched when they put a bit of pressure on their left arm.

  I didn’t think I made a sound, yet she spun to face me.

  “Bailey?” I whispered. She was acting strange, and I didn’t want to startle her.

  She held a finger to her lips, waving me back toward a huge garbage bin that was in an alcove. I don’t know why I obeyed her command immediately, then let her pull me into the corner. I turned so that my back was against the wall.

  “Are the reflective stripes on my jacket out of sight?” I breathed.

  She nodded. Her eyes were tight, super focused.

  “We really have to stop meeting in doorways and alleys in the rain,” I whispered.

  She instantly unclenched, grinning, tipping her chin up to mine. “You were very sweet to me that day.”

  “I almost wasn’t. I almost kissed you.” I couldn’t believe I was confessing this, but it just tumbled out.

  “Officer Hill,” she whispered through her grin, “That would have been wildly inappropriate.”

  “It was unbelievably hard to control myself,” I murmured into her ear, holding her so close our hearts were nearly beating together. “For half a second, I didn’t know if I could.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” she said, suddenly shy. “But, well, you’re such a big tough guy that you made me a bit nervous at first.”

  “I know. I worry about that.” I held still as a stone, then murmured, “I’ll never let anyone hurt you, Bailey. Not ever.”

  Her expression was strangely guarded. Then a motor started up nearby.

  “I’m so sorry, Bailey, I–”

  “Shh.” Her voice was barely a breath, but it was an order.

  I didn’t know what it was about this darling girl that made me completely lose my focus. Why on earth were we hiding?

  A huge black panel van that had been lurking at the end of the alley began coming our way. Holding her tightly against me, we became motionless. It was fascinating to watch her jump immediately back into laser-like focus, her eyes watching the concrete for the sec
ond the van came into view. She slowed her breathing so that we were statues.

  We must not have been seen, as the van continued without pausing, turning onto the street until it was gone.

  Bailey took a long exhale, then looked up at me. “Let’s wait a minute, then go to my place.”

  “Okay.” Her tone of voice was odd. “When we get there, you’ll tell me what’s going on?” She nodded.

  “Hey,” I whispered, rubbing her back gently, “Whatever it is, you’re with me now. I’m going to try to be the mellow, happy guy in your life. Okay?”

  She looked up at me, her soft smile so pretty in the dim light. “Daniel, you’re amazing for me.” Her hands wound around my neck. “You’re wonderful. I just... Don’t want to be bad for you.” Her face crinkled as she looked upset again.

  “No, hey...” I automatically began rocking her gently. “Bailey, please. I can see that your arm still hurts. You’ve been working too much. You’re out here in the rain and cold. Please let me take you home, okay? I won’t ask about anything other than why you’re in this alley all alone.”

  Her chin tucked down, her face hidden by her hood. Then she peeked out in both directions before leading me out of the alcove and down the half crumbled old concrete.

  I walked her several blocks to her door not sure if our silence was comfortable or not. “I have to go clock out at the station. Would you like me to come back in around twenty minutes?”

  She bobbed her head, looking up at me intently. “Sure.”

  I waited until she locked the door, then I rushed back to the station. I hurried through the few things I had to finish up, then quickly changed into regular clothes. I’m not sure why I wanted her to see me as relaxed. As a normal, nice guy. There were so many questions surrounding this girl, and I didn’t want to freak her out, but I did need an answer this time. I rushed back to her apartment just twenty minutes later.

  Bailey came down to let me in, fresh from the shower. Her hair was down, slightly damp as it stuck to her shoulders in long brown waves. She was wearing a huge blue bathrobe. Seeing a tiny girl in clothing that was too big was something that always made my breath catch.