She didn’t want to step away. “I will, Josh Stevens.”
After Dr. Herman gave him care instructions and follow-up info for surgery in Indian Lake, they got ready to go.
“And now we have to get your sling on,” Violet said, looking at the nurse. “How?”
“It hurts to move my arm,” Josh said. “I’ll put the sling over the jumpsuit and we can tuck the jumpsuit sleeve inside.”
Harry chortled. “Good thing you kept up all those sit-ups. Every camera is gonna be zeroed in on those bandages.”
“And then some,” Violet whispered, and quickly glanced away.
Josh laughed and put his good arm around Violet’s shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s give them something to talk about.”
“What?”
Josh’s arm was strong as he herded her out of bay 4 and into the corridor. Several camera crews filmed their exit out of the hospital.
The world wanted to know that Josh Stevens had lived.
Violet couldn’t help but think that he wanted the world to know that she was by his side. But why? She wasn’t his girlfriend, but the press could easily manipulate a story about their closeness. Was this Harry’s idea?
They walked down the hall, and the reporters parted to allow them through. She saw how little they cared for him. He was a story. It had surprised her how deeply she’d felt for him at the moment of the crash. It startled her that her emotions created a combustion of their own. She’d come here on police orders. But her duty receded the moment of the crash.
The media cared only about his fame or if he’d finally fallen from it. And what if he did? Was that an even better story?
She should zero in on her duty, but right now she cared only about Josh.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ON THE DRIVE back to Indian Lake, Josh had held out his hand and said, “Gimme your cell phone.”
“Why?”
He’d wiggled his fingers. “I’m not going to bug it, Violet. C’mon.”
She’d handed him her phone and watched as he added his name and number. Fiddling with the settings for a moment, he’d grinned and handed it back to her. “Just a sec.”
Taking out his cell phone, Josh opened up his “favorites,” where he’d stored her number and called her.
Her phone began to play “On the Banks of the Wabash, Far Away.”
“Why’d you do that?” she asked.
“So you always know it’s me calling and not some other guy.”
“Most of my calls are official. Except for my family. I may be the youngest, but I’ve always come up with solutions and fast. My friends tell me the same thing.”
“I can see that.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh-huh. You didn’t flinch when I came at you when you arrested me.” His smile was faint but sincere. “You followed me out of the diner to apologize that day after the trial. And you were ready with an idea to ‘fix’ my arrest that I’d never thought of. You have a lot of heart, Violet. You’re the first person, ever, really, who saw me for myself. Not my fame or career. I’m just another guy to you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that...”
“No?”
“No.”
She stared at him and saw him catch his breath intake as if he’d forgotten to exhale.
“So now you’ll take my calls?”
In the split second she hesitated, wondering which category she should place him, “official business” or “friend,” Josh leaned over and kissed her cheek.
“I’m going to be in Indian Lake for quite some time this summer, and I was hoping I could be your friend.”
* * *
EVEN NOW, AS she watched dawn pierce across the cloudless sky and across greening rows of soybeans and corn, her head was filled with Josh thoughts, images. Feelings.
Friends.
What did he mean by that? Exactly?
She’d never had a “friend” who kissed her like Josh had. It was possible he was looking for a summer romance to occupy him while he recuperated. Someone to take his mind off the pain. The boredom.
How could a guy like Josh—a celebrity—be into a small town cop?
She pinched the bridge of her nose.
“This guy gives me a headache already, and I’m not even involved with him!”
Violet reminded herself she was a rookie—in her career and in relationships. She had friends in high school and at the police academy, but she’d never had a real romance. She was too focused on studying and earning money to pay for tuition.
She rubbed her temples. Josh was as different from her as night was from day. Looking back on her life, she realized there had been no romances because there’d never been anyone like Josh. He was the first guy to come along who was not intimidated by her ambition. He valued her career and her goals. He was ambitious, too, and he understood what that meant.
But he’d said he wanted to be her friend. No commitments. No promises of romance or a relationship. Just friendship.
And then he kissed me.
Not a real kiss, but he’d lingered, and she’d felt the warmth of his lips against her skin. Lifting her fingers to the place where he placed that kiss, she smiled. It still felt tingly.
Violet rolled her eyes.
“I’m only twenty-four years old. I have all the time in the world for love. Later. I shouldn’t be thinking about Josh. My mind should be on work.” She groaned and poured out the last bit of tepid coffee from the thermos she’d drained over her all-night stakeout.
Amazingly, she’d remained awake since she’d taken over from Sal Paluzzi just before midnight. It was now five fifteen.
She glanced up. “What?”
She saw a 1998 beige Chrysler pull into the drive of the farmhouse. While she’d been at the race, Bob Paxton had reported seeing a beige or light gold old Chrysler drive slowly past the farmhouse, but did not drive in.
Violet feared she’d blundered due to the fact she’d been watching for an expensive foreign car. She grabbed her phone and took a photo. She emailed the shot to the ILPD station. She scribbled notes on her ever-present log sheet.
Following Trent’s orders, she immediately phoned him.
“Davis,” he said groggily.
“Officer Hawks, sir. I have movement at the farmhouse. The 1998 Chrysler that Detective Paxton reported is back. It’s parked in the drive close to the garage.”
“How many in the car?”
Violet could hear rumbling on Trent’s end of the phone as if he were rising from bed and getting dressed. She picked up her binoculars. “Two men. No, wait. There’s a third in the backseat.”
“Stay out of sight. I’m sending Paluzzi and Paxton. I’m on my way.”
“Sir...”
“Remain in your vehicle, Officer. That’s an order!”
“Yes, sir.” She hung up.
Peering through the binoculars, she watched as two of the men went into the house through the back door. The third remained by the driver’s side of the car, lit a cigarette and watched the sun rise.
As dawn came, Violet zoomed in and snapped the license plate. She emailed the photo to the station and left instructions to have a trace run on it.
In addition to photos of the sentry, now smoking his second cigarette, Violet jotted down his mannerisms, his apparent nervous habit of shaking his right leg every few seconds. The man did not inspect the garage, the surrounding area, look for cameras or a cop lurking behind a blind of trees and bushes.
He was awfully comfortable.
Ten minutes later, the passenger door of Violet’s car opened and Trent crawled in.
“Good morning,” she said as he closed the door.
“I parked—”
“Across the soybean field,” she finished for him. She tapped the rearview mirror. “I
saw. And—” she pointed out her window to the left “—Detective Paluzzi is going in the back?”
“Correct.”
“Am I to follow you?” she asked.
“Officer Hawks, you’ve been out here all night. No sleep makes your slow reflexes a danger to the operation.”
“Sir, I feel fine. I’d like to participate.”
“Duly noted. You were an asset on the warehouse bust. Judging from your somewhat bloodshot eyes, I’m quite sure you didn’t nod off for a minute all night.”
“No, sir. I was on duty.”
He pursed his lips to stifle a satisfied smile. “I’ll take over from here.” He pointed at the farmhouse. “We’re staying put until we see them move something in or out. Until then—”
“Ten four.” She nodded.
Trent took out his car keys. “Take my car back to the station. I’ll bring yours back later.”
Violet handed him the binoculars. She grabbed her notes and got out of the car. Crouching low, she made her way across the soybean field.
If those gang members made the slightest move into the meth lab garage, Trent and the team would make their bust.
She’d be left out.
The glory of the arrest would not appear on her record. Which could lead to her being passed over. Trent had won accolades and even a commendation for his work. So had Sal and Bob when they took down Le Grand.
As her booted feet scraped past the soybeans, she thought of Josh and wondered what it would be like to see him at the end of the day, tell him of her defeat. She was off base to think of them as a couple, sharing joys and trials. They were only beginning to be “friends.” But she couldn’t help thinking that perhaps he might hold her hand, his warmth and concern giving her that fraction of hope that she needed to keep going when everything looked so gray.
* * *
AT THE POLICE STATION, Violet filed her report, put Trent’s car keys on his desk then walked across the street to her apartment.
She had just pulled a bright pink T-shirt over her head, when her cell phone pinged with a text from Katia.
I’m at the hospital. Josh just went in to surgery. A day early.
Violet texted back: I’m on my way.
Without her car, Violet didn’t have a vehicle. Fortunately, the Indian Lake hospital was only six blocks from her apartment. She put on her running shoes, shoved her phone, cash, ID, badge and apartment key into a fanny pack, strapped it around her waist and raced out the door.
At the landing, she saw Mrs. Beabots in the kitchen. She tapped on the door.
“Come in, sweetie,” Mrs. Beabots said as she poured boiling water into a French press. “I thought you’d be asleep by now. Honestly, I don’t know how you stay awake all night long...”
“Josh is in surgery.”
Mrs. Beabots put down the kettle. “I thought it was tomorrow.”
“So did I. Katia just texted me. I can’t help thinking something happened. I’m on my way there now.”
Mrs. Beabots held up her palm. “Wait.” She went to the sink where an armful of peonies and roses were resting in water. She took half a dozen flowers, put a wet paper towel around the bottom and then wrapped it in aluminum foil. “Give these to Josh when he wakes up. The fragrance will help him heal.”
Violet hugged Mrs. Beabots. “You are the best.”
“It’s what friends do.” She smiled. “Oh!” She opened the dishwasher and took out a clean jar. It still had the peanut butter label on it. “A vase.”
“Perfect,” Violet replied. “I’ll call you from the hospital once I know what’s going on.”
“Thank you, dear.”
Violet found Katia in the surgery waiting room. The television blared the news as an elderly couple strained to hear the announcer’s voice.
Katia stood by the window looking down on the street, a fashion magazine in her hand. It was eight twenty in the morning, and Katia looked more put-together than the supermodel on the magazine cover.
“Katia, is Josh in trouble?” Violet clutched the flowers to her chest.
“No. Nothing like that. The surgeon had a cancellation, that’s all.”
Katia looked at the flowers. “Those are pretty.”
“Oh. They’re from Mrs. Beabots’s garden.” She lifted the jar. “And she provided the vase.” She chuckled. “I’ll get some water from the drinking fountain.”
“Take your time. The doctor said the surgery could last four hours barring complications.”
Violet’s heart skipped a beat. “Complications? What could happen? I mean, Josh is young and fit and...”
“Apparently the tears in his shoulder are more extensive than originally thought. They did another MRI and found some old ruptures. At some point, Josh had broken his clavicle. This is the second break he’s had.”
Dread washed over Violet. Until this moment, she’d downplayed the seriousness of Josh’s injuries. He’d created an impervious, almost immortal persona, dodging death on the race track month after month, so she’d dismissed the reality that his injuries could incapacitate him. Or kill him. They both danced with the devil in that way, though. Still, she couldn’t help think her choice was more noble than his.
“Did you talk to Josh? Was he worried?”
“You know Josh. He downplays every hurdle in his life.”
“No. I didn’t know that,” Violet replied, wishing she’d had time to know that about him.
Katia put the magazine on a chair. “I don’t know him as well as Austin does, but he’s told me quite a bit about Josh. On my own I’ve discovered that he’s honest and loyal. Thoughtful and kind and so giving. What he wants to do for Mrs. Beabots’s children center alone...”
“I know. That’s amazing.” Violet glanced down at the flowers and realized the petals were quivering because her hand was shaking. Guilt had rattled her but good. When she wasn’t remembering Josh’s kiss and promising herself it would never happen again, she was stealthily probing for a flaw, a rip in his story that would connect him to a dangerous drug lord. She was the one wearing the mask in this scenario. It wasn’t Josh’s practiced performance for the crowd that gave her caution. It was her own diametrically opposed motivations.
Was she the good guy doing bad or the bad guy doing good?
“Do hospitals make you nervous?” Katia asked.
“Yeah.”
“Me, too. Austin and I had dinner with Nate and Maddie last week, and Nate told us about a couple of his surgeries when he was a resident and the patient died. I can’t imagine how terrifying that has to be for a family, sitting out here, waiting for the doctor to come to them and he has to announce that their loved one died.”
Violet felt the tear on her cheek before she realized her eyes had welled. “Poor Nate. I don’t know how doctors do all they do.” She wiped her cheek. “But Katia, Josh isn’t having heart surgery.”
“The anesthetic alone can cause complications. Blood clots to the brain. The lungs.” Katia’s hands flew to her cheeks. “If that was Austin in there...”
“But it’s not. It’s Josh.”
Her knees weakened. Violet lowered slowly into the chair. She looked at the flowers. “I hope he likes roses. They have the highest vibration of any flower on earth. Both Isabelle and Mrs. Beabots say they can heal a person.”
The flowers swam in front of Violet’s eyes. She lifted them and inhaled their sweetness, then put the makeshift vase on the table in front of her.
Katia sat next to her and placed her hand over Violet’s. “I’m sorry for blubbering on like I did. I didn’t know.”
Violet pursed her lips to keep from sobbing. “Know what?”
“That you’re in love with Josh.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Violet’s hand flew to her heart, then to her throat as if she needed to stop the next words of
admission. She couldn’t be in love with him. She looked at the flowers. It hit her that if Mrs. Beabots hadn’t given her the flowers, she would have asked to pick some for him.
Because I care.
Fortunately, her landlady’s kindness gave her an excuse.
Katia’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t fool me. I’ve seen that same look in my own reflection when I worry about Austin. I’ve always been in love with him, even when I was a kid and my mother became his parents’ housekeeper. When I lived in Chicago and we were separated, I never saw that open and deep emotion in my eyes. But I see it in you. If you’re not in love with Josh, I’ll swear off discount designer stores.”
“Don’t do that.” Violet tried to joke. She wanted to tell Katia the truth, that she was investigating Josh, but her assignment was top security. At the same time, Katia would press her until she beat her down. She had to dodge and weave. “I don’t know what I feel. The truth is, Katia, we’re from two different worlds. Maybe all I am is a fan.”
“You don’t like racing all that much.”
“I really don’t like it now that he crashed. Still, his skill is amazing. He’s very talented.” She gnawed at her bottom lip. “I keep asking the same question. How long till his number’s up?”
“Violet, don’t take this to the extreme. Most drivers quit or retire. They do other things.”
Violet shook her head. “Other things?” Josh’s lifestyle was out of her hometown league. He was a global phenomenon. The roar of the crowd was in his blood. Meanwhile, she’d come to the hospital to see him with garden-picked peonies and roses in a peanut butter jar.
She’d be a fool to let herself fall in love with Josh.
Mirror reflections or not, Violet had never been labeled a fool.
CHAPTER TWENTY
NO STAKEOUT, NO heart-pounding drug bust, no all-night, on-duty stint at the police station had dragged on for Violet like Josh’s four hour and twenty minute surgery. When Josh had signed into the hospital, he’d listed Austin and Katia as “family.” Interestingly, he had named Violet Hawks as “close friend,” so Dr. Evans, the surgeon, reported to all three of them.
He had told them, “Once we got in there, I found several old injuries that Josh had sustained. I repaired them all. He’s in recovery now. It should be about an hour before he’s awake and they take him up to his room.”
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