Her overloaded ring always sank to the very bottom, and she had to move virtually everything else aside in order to find them. Her fingers brushed by her wallet to a couple of lipstick tubes and a boatload of pens. But no keys.
The full moon she’d been counting on disappeared behind a bank of clouds. When she glanced up to figure out if it might soon reappear, she couldn’t even discern the outlines of adjacent treetops in the inky murk. Suddenly conscious of how very dark it had become, she began to stutter step walk as her search continued.
“I got this!”
A jolt hyperextended her arm as the purse she held in front of her was yanked to one side. Clutching her fist around the strap, she hung on. “Give me that! Let go!”
The purse was wrenched out of her hands with enough force to spin her around. Falling to her knees, gravel spewed back at her. “Ooof! Wait! I—! Wait!”
A heel came down hard on her leg to knock her flat. Most of her body landed on smaller pebbles and more gravel. Somehow, she rolled to one side and managed to get a hand out before her cheek contacted stone.
“Hey! What’s going on?”
In the background, feet pounded gravel, then a duo of young women knelt beside her. Two sets of hands reached out to help her sit upright. “Are you okay?”
Cynthia took mental stock of her physical situation. Moved each extremity, found them trembling but okay. Then shook her head—big mistake. Pain rocketed through her skull and down her neck to both shoulder blades. As long as she avoided that particular movement, she’d probably be fine. “I think so.”
“The guys went after him.” Though breathless, the female voice was reassuring. “Will you be all right? What can I do? Should I call someone for you?”
Dazed but able to function, Cynthia slowly came to her feet. “Just ask them to bring back my purse.”
Chapter Eight
“It’s not about you, Wendell. After what you’ve done, it’s about me. And what I can get from you.”
As the embittered wife continued to berate her soon to be hangdog ex-husband, Jonah sat back in the chair behind his bench and gave a sly glance toward Stu, his bailiff. When the usually stone-faced officer made furtive eye contact, they made a mini-contest out of suppressing smiles.
Forcing his attention forward, Jonah assumed a stone-faced expression of his own as the divorce hearing continued to eventually reach an uneasy conclusion. “So ruled.”
Stu leaned against the bench as the newly separated couple and their respective lawyers filed out, and the door shut behind them. “Talk about a woman scorned.”
“I’ll say.” Shaking his head as he stepped down and made a beeline for his office, Jonah silently thanked his lucky stars he’d been fortunate enough to rid himself of the passing woman in his life.
How close I came to maybe ending up in the same boat.
On another head shake after hanging up his robe, he walked through an exit door off the hallway, opting to take several flights of stairs down to the basement cafeteria.
Bypassing a line of vending machines along one wall, he entered what he considered the real food area, where he ordered a grilled ham and cheese. After wandering around to collect a bag of chips, carton of milk and oatmeal cookie, he returned to accept the freshly prepared sandwich.
“Keep the change.”
He handed over a five for four dollars and ninety-three cents worth of food, picked up the tray he’d been given and went to find an empty table.
At ten-thirty in the morning, empty tables were everywhere.
“Crime’s getting worse out there, not better.”
Two men in police uniforms, no doubt summoned to testify in some trial, were the only other inhabitants. They sat near the cashier station nursing a couple of cans of soda. Jonah nodded as he walked by.
The older one, with a receding hairline, returned Jonah’s nod, then faced the officer across from him. “So you got the perp. How’d that feel?”
A large grin lit up a heavily freckled baby-face. “I tell you it was a case made in heaven. No chase. Just a clean easy collar.”
“Sometime they happen like that.”
With his can shoved to one side, the younger officer laughed. “The guy came back to get his truck, carrying the lady’s purse while I was comin’ out from inside after seeking witnesses.”
“Some thieves just beg to get caught.” The other man took a sip and shook his head as he set down the can. “Lucky for us.”
“I’ll say. Though if I could have, I’d have cited the place for not having any lights on in their parking lot. They claimed some customer shut off the switch as a joke.”
“A bar in that part of town. Just asking for trouble.”
“We can’t protect ’em all.”
“How about the vic?”
“She’s okay. Bruised up a little. Fought like hell to keep her damned purse when she just should have let it go. Some vics can be pretty stupid. That Harvey’s Pub parking lot is all stone and gravel. Guess she took a pretty bad spill.”
With his tray set down, Jonah was beside their table before the officer finished his play by play. He wanted nothing more than to grab a chair and join them. Get all the details he could. “You said a purse snatching at Harvey’s Pub? When? Last night? What time?”
The red head flashed a crafty smile, picked up his drink then winked at his companion. “Sorry, sir. Open case. That’s privileged information.”
There was nothing worse than a cop with a tin complex, full of himself and his badge.
Jonah’s teeth clenched tight as the other officer’s head jerked up. “Judge Colt. How are you, sir?” Officer number one leaned forward and, none too subtly, kicked his table mate’s chair. “Yer Honor, this is Officer Randall Parks.”
The eyes on the new guy grew wide as his mouth dropped open. “Judge Colt? You’re a—Judge Colt? I didn’t—”
He scrambled to stand up, shake Jonah’s hand and pull a notebook out of his breast pocket at the same time.
“From memory,” Jonah ordered. “Just tell me how the woman is doing.”
“She was okay, sir. Just a little, uh, roughed up.”
“You got a name?”
Frantically rifling the pages of his notebook, he looked up, eyes the size of saucers. “I’m looking, sir. I’m looking.”
Jonah glanced from one to the other. “How long have you been with us, Parks?”
The rookie snapped to attention. “Six weeks, sir. I love what I do.”
Jonah purposely didn’t crack a smile. “Find a little regard for the people you do it for, son, or you’ll have one hell of a rocky career ahead. Not to mention a short one.”
“Yes, sir.” When he started to salute, Jonah reached out to shake his hand.
“As his FTO, sir, I’m afraid I let him take all the notes, last night.” The older officer shot a knowing glance Jonah’s way.
“You’re his field training officer? Phelps, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve been promoted then. Congratulations.”
The man stood with a smile of pride. “Guess they’re going to keep me, sir.”
“Good for you.” Jonah was shaking his hand when the other officer spoke up.
“Oh, and, uh, your honor, sir, regarding the perp?”
“Yes?” Jonah glared at Parks and took a small measure of satisfaction when he backed up a step and swallowed.
“The guy didn’t even get back to his truck.” The rookie took a forward pace and swallowed again. “Let alone out of the parking lot.”
“How’s that?”
“Some customers walked out in the middle of it. Fortunately for the vic, a bunch of guys, hopped up fans who hadn’t had a hellatious amount to drink.” Parks leaned forward, obviously relishing his role as news bearer.
For God’s sake, cut to the chase. “And?”
Parks looked startled and maybe a little disappointed. “They restrained the perp. Helped the vic back inside. Calle
d us.”
Jonah was beyond pissed he had to ask. “How’s the woman doing?”
“Oh, her?” Parks took forever to leaf through his notebook. “Refused medical attention. Left on her own. Like I said. She was banged up was all.”
“Do. You. Have. A name for her, officer?”
More notebook rifling. “Uh. Buckingham. Cynthia Buckingham.”
All Jonah wanted to do was toss a chair or punch a wall. With a ragged breath, he flexed his hands and forced his jaw to not snap into a locked position. Two deep breaths through his nose were required to accomplish that.
Food forgotten, Jonah thanked them both and had spun around to leave, when the younger one spoke up again. “Oh. And, one more thing about the perp.”
Jonah reluctantly spun back. “Yeah?”
“When we caught up with him, he claimed he did the deed kinda spur of the moment. Said he’d just lost a bet in the bar. Was sittin’ in his truck lickin’ his wounds.”
Get it out for God’s sake! No! Wait. Let me. “And trying to figure out what the wife would say about the money.”
“Something like that. Anyway, he said he was there, she was there. Everything just kinda happened. If that’s any consolation, your honor, sir.”
Jonah forced himself to continue breathing. “None, Parks.”
“Huh?”
“No consolation at all.”
“Can I help you with anything else, sir?” The rookie grabbed the back of his chair with one hand. When he began to extend the notebook with the other Jonah shook his head.
“Probably not. I’ve heard enough.”
Parks ripped out some clean pages from his notebook. “I’ll get this all down for you, sir.”
“Don’t bother with that.” Jonah covered with an off-hand comment about having a photographic mind. True or not, he swore to never forget the name of the perpetrator who knocked Cynthia to the ground after their struggle. And gave her a swift kick to the thigh, according to Parks, apparently just because.
He’d never forget the guy’s name, if only to recuse himself if he happened to draw the case if or when it came to trial.
Or fight to get the death penalty.
Shaking hands again, he advised both men to stay safe, law enforcement style. “Keep your heads down.”
“Will do, sir,” they chorused.
Arriving back at his office and grateful Joyce was still out to lunch, Jonah slammed the door. He could only hope for sufficient time to compose himself before she returned.
Which would be the easy part.
He’d never forget, or forgive himself for how he failed once again to protect yet another person he cared about.
After waiting scant moments, and pacing the entire time, he decided he’d leave Joyce a note to postpone whatever remained on his schedule. Because he was taking the rest of the day off.
Chapter Nine
Cynthia stepped back from the peephole in the middle of her front door, then made herself stand still for a moment to make sense of what she’d just seen.
Jonah Colt. Alone on her porch. In the middle of a work day. Hands in his pockets with concern, or was it anger, drawing down his features and darkening his eyes.
On a fortifying breath, she released the deadbolt and turned the knob. “Hello.” She pulled back the door and stayed in its opening, leaving the screen door closed between them.
His head came up, his hands left his pockets and his eyes assumed a tell-tale cast of disbelief. “Are you all right?”
He took a step forward then stopped when she didn’t move backward.
“Me? I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
With one hand, he started to reach toward her then stopped that too. “I heard about what happened.”
No way did she intend to make this easy for him. “What happened? Where?”
Both hands reached out to her as he unlatched then hauled open the screen door. “I heard about your mugging, and I came by to tell you I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
She still hadn’t given any indication she was going to invite him in, even though he kept coming at her.
“In a way it was.” His hands came to rest on her shoulders then his palms skimmed down her arms before he took both of her hands in his. “Did he hurt you?”
“Not as bad as he might have.”
The warmth of having him so near was getting the better of her. After a sleepless night and restless day so far, she wouldn’t mind being held. For only a moment would do. Then she’d send him on his way.
As if reading her mind, he dropped her hands and pulled her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist and nestled her cheek into the welcoming comfort of his chest. The tempo of a firm and steady heartbeat proved incredibly therapeutic. Her entire body went limp as she greedily absorbed his strength.
Content just to be, for maybe a few seconds more, his litany of apologies and regret were merely background noise.
“It never should have happened. Wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there.”
There were actual tears evident in his voice as he continued to hold and reassure her. Upset as she was when he walked out on her, his obvious remorse softened any remaining resentment.
Even so, she pushed out of his arms and took a pace back. “Your actually being there may or may not have made a difference.” When he reached for her again, she stepped away from him. “Nothing in life is absolute. I’m not going to lie to you, Jonah. Having my purse snatched was no picnic. But, near as I can tell, I’m not suffering any long term damage.”
“Is that your professional opinion?”
She fixed him with a curious stare. “You really want to go there?”
“Probably not.” He returned the smile she offered him. “I’m just thankful you’re okay.”
“I did take today off work. Hence the casual attire.”
With the sweep of one arm, she indicated the black lounge pants, Henley style long underwear top and bare feet.
He seemed to be struggling to keep his hands at his sides. “I just want you to know I’m sorry for walking out on you like I did.”
“And I want you to know it’s okay. I’m okay. There are others who can help me if I end up needing it. If I suffer any long term problems from my experience.” She cleared her throat. “A man knocked me down and took my purse. Traumatic, yes. But I won’t let it alter my life.”
When she looked up, his eyes narrowed as he regarded her. “Good luck with that.”
“Thank you. So let’s just leave it there. Okay?”
“If you say so.”
She let a smile soften her words. “I say so.”
Jonah’s unexpected visit ended precisely as Cynthia intended. Sort of.
Lips still ripe from the heat of his surprising goodbye kiss, she was safely inside her house with the door firmly shut then locked—deadbolt and all—behind her as he’d advised.
And Jonah by her side.
It was either that or stand in his arms on the front porch in full view of her neighbors and anyone else who happened to pass by.
“I’m so thankful you weren’t too badly hurt.”
The words, a tender vibration along the side of her neck, caused a shiver to wind through her as he pulled her back into his arms.
“Uh-huh.” It was the full extent of her answer.
But for good reason. For the most part a sane and rational grown woman, it seemed whenever Jonah Colt was around, sane and rational eluded her.
She closed her eyes as his palm warmed the nape of her neck. An arm crept around her waist. A hand splayed on her back, brought her against a firm and solid form. The scruff of afternoon whiskers rasped her cheek as his face drew near. Then his mouth claimed hers, and she could do nothing but give herself up to the power of his kiss. After what seemed like mere seconds, or maybe a life-time, he released her lips. When his hand took possession of hers, she allowed him to lead her to the second floor.
Clothes be
came a distraction the instant they arrived in her bedroom.
Jonah made short work of shucking off his suit coat, shirt, slacks and boxers. Cynthia had shed her lounge pants and slipped the top over her head when Jonah walked up behind her to unclasp the fastener of her bra. As the string of satin and lace fell from his fingers to the floor, he brought both hands up to massage her newly exposed skin as his mouth left a trail of whisper soft kisses across the back of her neck.
Reaching back, she stroked her finger tips along the outside of his thigh and leaned into the length of him.
Then slowly, she turned in a desperate search for Jonah’s lips.
****
She wore a short flowered robe over nothing else when she and Jonah walked downstairs later that afternoon. The robe Phil told her wasn’t worth whatever amount of money she’d spent for it since it did a damned poor job of coverage.
“That color looks good you.”
Jonah made the comment as they descended the last stair into the family room.
She smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
Where was this man when I was twenty? As she accompanied him toward the couch, another thought replaced the first. It’s only important he’s sitting beside me now.
She was about to take refuge in his arms again, when the video chat signal on her computer began its trademark trill.
“A take-off on the bridal march. Jen’s idea of being cute.” She was up and off the couch in one swift movement. “Hopefully I’ll only be a moment. Help yourself to something to drink.”
With a smile based more on regret than apology, she took a seat at the desk, grateful the monitor faced the wall and she faced the room where Jonah settled deeply into the couch.
“Oh, Mother. I’m so glad I caught you at home.”
At the urgency in her daughter’s tone, Cynthia immediately snapped into nurture mode. “What’s wrong. Are you sick?”
“She’s fine, soon to be Mother Buckingham.” Her future son in law’s head filled the right half of the screen. “Just torturing herself over what to feed our many wedding guests.”
Decisions about menu items do not constitute a crisis in my book. Cynthia shifted in her chair. Unless you’re the one whose wedding day is coming up.
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