by Janie Crouch
“So, did you say yes to Agent Handsome when he came calling the other day?” Caroline asked her from where she was perched in the sun.
Sherry had managed to work herself down to just shorts and a tank top over her bikini in the past two days. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. And at least now she felt she had somewhere to start when it came to this blasted coldness. Whenever she felt the least chill come on, she immediately turned her thoughts in a different direction. Anything that took her away from where her subconscious was going.
The thought of Jon Hatton generally skipped her past warm and straight to hot. Mostly because he was a jerk.
Although she had to admit that when she was so cold after the interview, he’d been very understanding and helpful. Had helped her fight the cold by keeping her close to his body.
Sherry sighed. “I didn’t want to, but, yes, I did. He’s pretty persuasive. Not to mention I could tell he thought I was the most selfish person on the planet when I resisted at first.”
“He thought you were selfish because you wouldn’t go out with him?”
Sherry put her sunglasses on top of her head and looked over at her friend. “First of all, how do you know about all this? Second of all, he didn’t come by to ask me out, he came by to badger me into meeting with Jasmine Houze.”
Caroline let loose a string of obscenities that was totally at odds with her young, sweet look.
Sherry laughed. “I take it you didn’t know.”
“He asked me where you were staying, but he said it was because he wanted to ask you out.”
Sherry thought of how he had helped her at the hospital, kept her by his side until the iciness had passed. Then followed behind her as she’d driven home to make sure she made it all right. No, not a date, but perhaps he wasn’t quite as bad as the string of obscenities suggested.
“Well, I think he needed my help more than he needed a date.”
“I’m still going to let him have it next time I see him. I was so busy laughing at him when he suggested Zane and I might go on a date with you two that I wasn’t really paying attention to anything else.”
“What is it with you and Zane? The vibe between the two of you is crazy.”
Caroline took another sip of her water, rolling her eyes. “Don’t I know it? Zane and I are...complicated. It would just traumatize you further for me to talk about it. Traumatize me, too.”
Sherry had told Caroline some of the stuff that had been going on with her: the cold spells and not being able to draw. Caroline was sympathetic and, as a paramedic, she was no stranger to trauma herself.
“How did it go with Jasmine Houze?”
Sherry shrugged. “As good as could be expected, considering she hadn’t gotten any sort of look at her attacker.”
“Damn it,” Caroline muttered. “So you couldn’t draw anything, after all.”
“Yeah. Glad I didn’t even have to try. As much as I’d like to help, I’m not sure I could’ve done anything useful.”
Caroline grimaced. “Somebody’s got to put a stop to this guy.”
“Yeah, Jon said he’s smart.”
“So you actually talked to Jon? I thought you said he was a jerk.”
“We talked a little bit about the case,” Sherry said. “But to be honest, I didn’t want any details. He just wanted to make sure I knew that no detail was too small when I was talking to Jasmine.”
Caroline nodded. “You know, the crock about asking you out notwithstanding, I’ve found Jon to be a very stand-up guy. He talked to Michael, my partner, and me about the second victim. Asked our opinions about what had happened since we were first on the scene.”
“Is that unusual?” Sherry asked.
“Well, neither Zane nor any of the other local detectives have ever asked my professional opinion, that’s for sure. Too bad I didn’t have anything interesting to share with Jon. But he still listened.”
“Are we talking about the same Agent Hatton?”
Caroline laughed. “I’m just telling you, he isn’t really a jerk.”
“If you say so.”
Caroline stood. “Okay, I’m off to shower before my shift.”
“Okay, I’m going to hang here. Try to face the ol’ sketch pad again.” Sherry was feeling relaxed, warm. Ready to try. “You be safe out there tonight.”
“Will do. Don’t push it with the drawing. Let it come when it comes.” They hugged and Sherry sent Caroline on her way.
That left Sherry alone with her sketch pad. She flipped to the first page and found the rough outline of Jon’s face staring back at her.
Even without trying she had captured his dark good looks. Almost without conscious consent, her fingers took the pencil and began tracing in the details from his face onto the paper. As Caroline said, she didn’t overthink it, just let it come.
Fifteen minutes later she had a full portrait of Jon looking back at her. Eyes faintly laced with disapproval, a slight scowl.
Yep, pretty much exactly as she remembered him. Jerk.
She had to admit, at least she wasn’t cold. She hadn’t felt the iciness grip her bones even once while she was drawing him.
So evidently if she could just go around drawing Jon Hatton, she would be okay. Somehow she didn’t think that was going to help her very much.
Her phone rang and Sherry looked at the number, one she didn’t recognize. She debated on whether she should answer at all, but decided she would.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Mitchell?” It was a soft female voice, but Sherry didn’t recognize it.
“Yes.”
“This is Jasmine Houze. I’m sorry to bother you.”
Sherry had given Jasmine her phone number at the hospital but honestly hadn’t expected the other woman to use it. She figured Jasmine would’ve called Jon or one of the Corpus Christi detectives before calling her.
Sherry couldn’t turn the woman away.
“No, you’re not bothering me at all. Are you okay?”
“I’m as well as can be expected, I guess. They released me from the hospital this morning.”
“That’s good news, right?”
“I’m glad to be out, but I’m not ready to go to my h-house yet.”
Sherry’s heart broke at the woman’s shaky mention of her house. Sherry wasn’t surprised she didn’t want to go there. She wouldn’t be surprised if Jasmine never lived in that house again.
“I totally understand. Do you have somewhere to stay?”
“Yeah, my mom and I are staying at my cousin’s house, on the beach. It’s not too far from my house. I feel okay there, as long as they’re with me.” Her words were still a little mushy, undoubtedly injury related.
“That’s totally understandable,” Sherry said. “You need to give yourself whatever time you need to heal. Don’t let anybody rush you and don’t allow yourself to get frustrated.”
That advice sounded familiar.
“Yeah, the counselor at the hospital told me the same thing.”
“That’s because we’re both brilliant.”
That got a laugh, as Sherry had hoped it would.
“I don’t mean to bother you, but you said to call if I thought of anything, no matter how small.”
“Yes, I was absolutely serious about that. It really doesn’t matter how insignificant it may seem.”
“Well, this doesn’t have anything to do with his face.”
That was a little disappointing because, of course, any identifying facial feature would be a wonderful help. But facial features weren’t the only things that could assist law enforcement.
“That’s okay, Jasmine. His face isn’t the only thing you might remember that can help the police. Maybe you should call them.”
“I remem
ber part of a tattoo on the inside of h-his arm.” Sherry’s heart broke as she heard Jasmine begin to cry. “And latex gloves. I don’t know why I’m just remembering this now.”
“That’s okay. More than okay, Jasmine. Really good.” A tattoo was something Sherry could draw. “Where is your cousin’s house exactly? I can come over there, if you want me to. Draw whatever you remember of the tattoo.”
“That would be so great.” The relief was plain in the woman’s voice. “I just want to get it out of my head.”
Sherry very much understood being trapped in one’s own head.
“Okay, give me your address. I’ll just need to run home and get my car.” Sherry had met Caroline on the beach halfway between their two houses so neither of them needed to drive.
She entered the address into her phone when Jasmine gave it to her and was surprised when she saw how close the house was to her present location.
“Actually, I’m only a couple of blocks from you right now. If you don’t mind that I’m all sandy, I can be there much sooner if I just walk.”
“Sooner is definitely better. I want to be sure I don’t forget this.”
Sherry was sure Jasmine wouldn’t forget the tattoo. It would probably creep into her nightmares for the rest of her life. But there was no need to tell her that.
“Okay, I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”
They disconnected the call and Sherry began putting her items in her beach bag. Not too much stuff, thankfully: towel, sunscreen, her sketch pad and a few other items. She hadn’t brought the umbrella, but she would need to carry her lightweight beach chair.
She categorically refused to think about the possibility that she wouldn’t be able to draw what Jasmine described. She marched down the beach, focusing on the picture she’d drawn of Jon. Thinking about him seemed to keep her functional and definitely not cold. Whether that was because he made her mad or for other reasons, she wasn’t going to delve into it too deeply.
It didn’t take too long to walk to Jasmine’s cousin’s house, since it was a straight shot down the beach. The beach was mostly empty in the late-afternoon sun, early June being less crowded in the beach town since school had not yet let out. It was a nice walk, and for Sherry, pleasant in the heat.
As she finished the last few hundred yards to the house, Sherry could swear she felt someone watching her. She spun around, but saw no one except for a jogger far away from her headed the other way. She looked up at the houses that lined the street parallel to the beach, but didn’t see anyone.
She took a deep breath as she felt cold starting to work its way through her system. She grabbed her long-sleeved shirt out of the bag and slipped it on, then walked more quickly toward the house.
This feeling was all in her imagination, Sherry knew. But she wished she had walked home and gotten her car, no matter that it would’ve taken longer.
Right now she needed to keep it together. Someone who had experienced something truly traumatic needed her help. The iciness and imaginary bogeyman watching her were nothing compared to the very real ugliness that made up Jasmine’s reality.
Jasmine was sitting in a chair on the second-story deck of her cousin’s house. No matter what it took, Sherry was going to focus on that brave woman up there and get through this.
Chapter Eight
Jon pulled up to the house where Jasmine was staying just as Sherry was coming down the outdoor back stairs from the second-story deck. Jasmine was behind her.
He’d been glad when Jasmine’s mother called, had told him about Jasmine remembering the tattoo on the rapist’s arm. Any identifying mark could help. Not only in finding and arresting the perpetrator, but also in the trial against him.
Maybe if she remembered this, there was hope that she might remember more; that her mind still held some secrets she wasn’t aware of yet. Jon hoped so, because even after spending the past two days recombing the crime scene and recanvassing the neighborhood, they still didn’t have any leads.
He hadn’t been able to get Sherry Mitchell out of his mind. Yes, he wanted her professional opinion and artistic abilities on the case. But more than that, he just wanted to see her again. To see if she was doing any better after that debilitating cold spell she’d suffered at the hospital.
Yet he had known that if he contacted her, his concern would’ve come across as professional rather than personal. That he was making sure she was okay so she could help him with this case, not because he actually cared what happened to her.
He did have a professional concern for her, definitely. If there was some way he could help her so that she could in turn use her artist and interviewing skills to help them capture this guy, Jon was more than willing to do that.
But he’d also like to help her because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. About her gorgeous long legs, gorgeous blond hair, gorgeous blue eyes.
And the fragility that seemed to surround her. As if she might shatter at any moment.
That was the real reason Jon hadn’t stopped back by to see Sherry even though he’d wanted to and desperately wanted her for the case.
She wasn’t ready.
If Jon kept pushing—and he knew it was in his nature to do so—then all he’d be doing was creating another victim as a result of this violence. Until Sherry’s mind was ready for her to get back to work on the case, Jon didn’t want to force it if there were any other options. He already had his boss at Omega looking for other forensic artists. Steve would come up with someone.
Jon was surprised Sherry was here, since Jasmine’s mom hadn’t mentioned it, and knowing how Sherry felt about getting involved. After seeing the toll working with victims took on her, Jon couldn’t have blamed her for just hunkering down under her beach umbrella and never facing anything again.
He’d been wrong about her. She wasn’t spoiled; she was protecting herself.
So he already admired the fact that she was here at all. He walked over to where she and Jasmine were talking at the bottom of the outdoor staircase.
“Ladies.” He said it while he was still far enough away not to startle Jasmine. He could see how Sherry immediately tensed at his voice.
“Hi, Agent Hatton,” Jasmine said. Her face was still bruised, but not nearly as swollen as it had been two days ago.
“How are you feeling?” he asked her.
The young woman shrugged. “Afraid to go out by myself. Afraid of the dark. Afraid to set foot in my own home. So, not great.”
Sherry took her hand. “It’s okay to be afraid of all those things. You might always be, and that’s okay, too.”
“Yeah, well, none of that is as bad as when the doorbell rings. Poor package delivery guy must have thought everybody in the house was crazy. Doorbell rang and I totally freaked out. Then my mom and cousin started crying. All he wanted to do was deliver some shoes my cousin ordered a few days ago.”
Jon met Sherry’s eye. It was a hard story for either of them to hear. They both knew Jasmine’s attacker had rung her doorbell and then forced his way in when she’d cracked open the door.
Jon wanted to comfort Jasmine but knew he couldn’t. There was only so much he could do. Sherry, on the other hand, was more easily able to, and reached out to touch the other woman.
“You know what?” Sherry said to Jasmine, rubbing the woman’s arm lightly. “Have your cousin disconnect the doorbell. Disconnect it at your house when you go back there. If you decide to go back there. Or, if you decide to move into another place, disconnect the doorbell there. Disconnect the damn doorbell at every place you live for the rest of your life. That’s okay.”
“It just seems so cowardly.” Jasmine’s voice was small.
“No.” Both he and Sherry said it at the same time.
“Not cowardly at all,” Jon continued.
“
You don’t ever have to apologize for how you choose to survive,” Sherry said. “You need to heal on your timetable, not anyone else’s. Taking tiny, little baby steps is still forward progress.”
“You’re up, outside, talking. That’s more than many would be in your situation,” Jon said.
“Thanks, you guys. I think I’m going to go in and rest. Describing that tattoo took more out of me than I thought.” Jasmine turned to Sherry. “Can you show it to Agent Hatton?”
“Sure, no problem.”
Jasmine looked at Jon. “That’s okay, right? I just don’t want to look at it again right now.”
“Absolutely fine. Sherry will go over all the details with me. You don’t worry about it.”
“Yes, just rest, Jasmine,” Sherry said. “If you think of anything else, I’m more than happy to come back.”
Jasmine nodded before making her way up the outdoor stairs to where her mother and cousin were waiting. Jon was glad to see she had a good support network. That made a huge difference in the healing process.
He turned back to Sherry. “I realize it was probably difficult for you to come here and that you don’t want to be involved in this case. But I appreciate it anyway.”
Sherry stiffened. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for that brave woman up there.”
“Either way, I still appreciate it. I realize that it still probably took a toll on you, regardless of who you did it for, so thank you.”
Sherry nodded. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be.”
But she still had her long-sleeved shirt on, even in the early-evening heat, so it had been at least somewhat bad.
“Did Jasmine remember anything particularly useful?” he asked her.
“Well, his skin was dark. That’s one thing she remembers.”
“Like African-American?”
“No, but not fair-skinned. Maybe Mexican or Latin American descent.” Sherry brought out the sketch pad she had tucked under one arm. “Basically she remembered his hands. He had on some sort of latex or rubber gloves.”
“That’s not surprising at all, considering the lack of evidence that has been left at the scenes. If you told me he had wrapped his entire body in some sort of protective gear, I wouldn’t be surprised.”