Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2)

by Sheena Hutchinson

  John replied: I’ll be there at three-thirty.

  Three-thirty. I have an hour to change and meet him on the outskirts of town.

  I couldn’t wait. It might have been the look on his face as he turned away from me or maybe my own selfish need to see him again. But, I’m walking up the walkway to the one-story Angelica Precinct. The red bricks are stark against the blue sky of this gorgeous summer afternoon. With a deep breath, I open the doors and enter. Men in uniform bustle about, this way, and that. It’s loud, too. There are men on the phone. Rowdy laughter erupts from a group across the room and others are studying their computer screens. I don’t know what I was expecting: a plaque on the desk or maybe a secretary directing me where to go. But I am met with neither. My eyes scan the faces surrounding me. John Smith isn’t here. I’m about to turn back around when a young man approaches me. He’s much younger than the other men around. His cheerful smile and slate eyes tell me he’s new here.

  “Can I help you?” His eyes search mine, and his smile wanes the longer I stare at him.

  “Uh, I was just looking for John.”

  “John? There’s – oh – you mean Smith?… You must be Becca.”

  I glance down, embarrassed. “Yes.”

  “I’m his partner, Matt.”

  “Um, nice to meet you,” I mumble.

  “I’m glad you came in. We actually have some paperwork for you to go over and sign.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Of course that would be why he knows my name. Notorious Officer Smith would never have been talking about me.

  “Come with me.” He directs me down a few rows of desks. “Have a seat. This is Smith’s desk. I’ll go get him.”

  “Thank you.” He doesn’t hear me as he disappears down a corridor. John appears almost immediately, followed by a running Matt. To see him running behind the seasoned Officer Smith only makes him look that much younger.

  “What’s wrong?” His hands reach out for me, and his eyes are filled with concern. I feel the precinct around me quiet as eyes flock to us.

  “Um,” I stutter, my cheeks reddening. “Nothing.”

  Sensing my unease, he pulls me to the window and blocks the curious eyes with his broad back. “I thought I told you to meet me at the coffee house?”

  “You did.” Definitely a mistake coming here. “I… You just left so mad. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

  His eyes soften. His fingers graze through his hair. “I’m fine.”

  We stand there for a moment, the sun warm on my back from the window. John is still toying with his hair. He finally glances up, holding my gaze.

  “Well.” He sighs. “Since you’re here – do you want to meet my partner?”

  “I think I already have.”

  “Come.” He guides me back over to his desk. “Matt, you met Becca?”

  “I did, briefly.”

  “Well, Becca, this is my other half.”

  “Other half, huh?” I smile.

  “Hey, not in front of the girl,” Matt whispers.

  John bounces his weight from foot to foot almost like he’s nervous. I interject, “Matt said there was some paperwork for me to sign?”

  “Oh, um. Yeah, I guess we should take an official statement from you.”

  “I’ll get the paperwork,” Matt calls over his shoulder, already heading across the precinct.

  John leans on the edge of his desk, his eyes looking everywhere and anywhere but at me.

  “You don’t like that I’m here, do you?”

  Finally, I get his attention. “It’s not that. I just… I like to keep business and personal separate.”

  “I think it’s a little late for that.” I mimic his soft voice.

  The infamous smirk appears. “I guess it is.”

  Matt returns with a packet of paper and the rest of my time at the precinct becomes a blur of questions and pictures. Recounting the blurred time while I was drugged was not what I had planned to do this afternoon, but it apparently had to be done. When it is all over with, John walks me out.

  “You gave me extra paperwork today. Thanks for that.”

  “Sorry.” I shrug.

  “Do you still want to meet for coffee?” His fingers glide through that perfect hair of his.

  “After that? I’m definitely going to need something caffeinated.”

  “Okay, let me just finish things up here and change. Meet you there in an hour?”

  “Sounds good.”

  There’s a slight pause between us, almost like he doesn’t know how to say goodbye to me. Eventually, he just musses my hair and leaves me with, ‘See ya later, nerd.’

  I go to the coffee house right from the precinct. I’m determined to get some class work done today. I hate not knowing what’s going on in class. I told myself I’d never let a guy get in between me and my schoolwork. I intend to stay true to that promise.

  I’m on my second coffee and my third sheet of homework when John arrives. It’s not something I notice with my eyes. John Smith has a presence about him that can be felt. Even out of uniform, he is a force that demands attention. He stands in the doorway to the coffee shop. Dark wash jeans and a white collared shirt make his eyes light up like fireworks. His hair is slicked back. He scans the shop. When his gaze meets mine, he responds to my smile with that sexy smirk of his. My insides twist with anticipation.

  Geez, Becca, hold it together.

  I can’t seem to focus on anything but the curve of his back until he gets his coffee and wanders over to my table. When he sits across from me his whole demeanor has changed.

  “Hey, you,” he whispers with his lips against the edge of the cup.

  Ugh, what I would do to have those lips on me again. Focus. “Hey, yourself.”

  “You have a lot of homework?” He nods toward the table full of open books and scattered loose-leaf pages.

  “Not anymore,” I mutter, throwing a few books closed.

  “I don’t want to distract you from your studies.” There’s that smirk again, the one that tells me that is exactly what he plans to do.

  “It’s a little late for that.”

  “Is it?”

  “A smidge.” I throw him my own smirk.

  Taking some attention away from me, he takes a sip of his coffee. It seems the stern cop I saw on campus is long gone. Was it all in my imagination?

  “So,” I whisper, trying to distract myself from my own thoughts. I press my cold coffee cup to my lips.

  His eyes glance out the window. “I have a question,” he announces. It takes him a few moments before he’ll meet my eye, and then he asks. “Last night, you asked me why I haven’t dated. But I never got a chance to ask, why haven’t you? And don’t give me that school nonsense.”

  “It’s true. I focused on school. But that was only an excuse. It was easier.”

  “Easier?”

  “It was easier than rejection. Easier than the guessing game and the heartbreak.”

  “Has your heart been broken before?” His blue eyes glimmer seemingly deeper now.

  “No, it was the other way around. It was me that broke his heart.” It’s my turn to glance away and outside at the line of trees as I confess. “Truth is, I knew what I wanted out of life even back then. He didn’t fit into that. Plus, my mother liked him. That should have been my first clue.”

  “I take it you’re not close to your mother?” He shoots me a knowing smile. Bedford must have told him something.

  I sigh. “We just don’t see eye to eye anymore.”

  “Why is that?”

  “She doesn’t have any more aspiration for me than to be someone’s wife and adhere to what people think of me. I have other plans.”

  “Ah, yes. Law school.”

  “It’s not about law school. It’s about the accomplishment for me. I want to be more than just a pretty face. And I want to get there on my brains, not my body, or my parents money. I… I want to prove to myself that I’m good enough.” Oh my God. I gasp, coverin
g my mouth.

  “You don’t think you’re good enough?” he repeats.

  “I’ve never said that out loud before.” I glance down at the fingertips I just pulled from my lips. “But I guess in a way it’s true.”

  He reaches his hand for mine. “I think you're better than good.”

  I blink and smile. ‘I know.” My fingers intertwine with John’s. “That’s why I like you.”

  His smile falters slightly. “You know I’m not good for you.”

  “You sound like my mother.”

  “I’m serious, Becca. This can only end badly.”

  “Says who?”

  “Common sense, your brother, experience.”

  “I’ve been told what to do, what fork to use, where to go, how to dress, and whom to befriend my entire life. That is over. That Becca isn’t me anymore.”

  “And what does this new Becca want?” There’s that smirk again.

  Is it my imagination or did he lean in slightly when he said that? “I can think of a few things.” I meet him at the center of the table.

  “Only a few,” he murmurs, centimeters from my lips.

  “Oh, shut up.” I reach up, grabbing the collar of his shirt to pull his lips down on mine. It’s been too long since I’ve felt the touch of them against me. His hand gently meets the side of my face. He runs his fingertips down my jawline until I slam another book shut.

  I pull away and begin stuffing my books back into my bag.

  “What are you doing?” He sounds amused.

  “We have to get out of here.”

  He laughs. “Oh, really?” I pause, watching him steadily with a brow raised.

  We are locked in an epic eye battle until he blinks. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

  I don’t know how, but we make it to his apartment. We burst in, lip locked in an embrace, his strong arms wrapped around me. He lifts me up onto the edge of the kitchen counter.

  His fingers trace their way up my jeans and with one quick motion, slips them down my legs. When those fingers return, they are wrapped around the lace of my panties. Only he doesn’t take them off right away. God, what is he waiting for? The anticipation is killing me, my legs beginning to shake.

  I watch his lips trace a path up my thigh and squirm under his touch. When he stops, our eyes meet. A shiver runs down my spine. With one finger, he pulls my thong to the side and oh so gently puts his mouth on me. That’s about the time I lose control.

  Wildly, I pull him up to my lips by a handful of hair. Clothes come flying off until he is finally inside of me. I’ve come to crave this feeling. I think about it all day in school, I wake up dreaming about it – oh God, what has John Smith done to me?

  I finally collapse into the nape of his neck and it only takes him a few more seconds before he too falls apart inside me. We sit like that for a while; me still on the kitchen counter catching my breath nestled in John’s neck until he pulls away. As I watch him escape to the bedroom, I begin to rethink things. With my orgasm out of the way, I finally have some clarity. Is it just me that feels this connection? Can the infamous Officer Smith possibly feel the same?

  The tiny little receipts rustle between my fingers. The interviews with the regulars and the bouncers turned up nothing but my blood pressure. Here Matt and I sit, going over countless crumpled receipts. They smell like pure vodka and some are so crumpled I can barely read what they say.

  “Ouch.” Matt rips his finger away and sucks on it.

  “Another paper cut?” It takes everything in me not to burst out laughing like I had the first few times this happened today. Matt doesn’t have the best dexterity.

  “What the hell, man? There must be a thousand here. No wonder nobody saw anything.”

  “Just a typical Saturday night at The Bar on The Ave.”

  “Damn, maybe I shouldn’t go for that interview then.”

  “What interview?” I drop my receipts to the pile on my desk.

  Matt looks up with a proud smile. “Yeah, I asked Collins when we were there. He called me earlier today. He said to stop by tomorrow for an interview.”

  “That’s awesome.”

  “Yeah, but you make it sound like a zoo.”

  “It is a zoo.” Animals everywhere, especially the ones that did this to Becca. I just wish I could put them in cages.

  “I’m going to get another Band-Aid, and maybe some gloves.” Matt rises to his feet. I swear this kid is going to be the death of me. My old partner was lazy and too opinionated for me. But, Matt, he’s so young and lacks experience. He hasn’t seen anything during his short stint here in Angelica. I know he’ll get there someday. I just don’t know if I want to be the guinea pig that gets stuck with first dibs.

  My attention returns to the receipts on my desk. My eyes focus on the letter B across the top of the receipt. It reads ‘The Bar.’ But the scene I’m seeing play out behind my eyelids is a different one.

  Becca is in front of me. Eyes hazy. She can’t even focus on my face.

  “Okay.” She mimics me.

  “Brett, get her!”

  Brett. Brett. Brett.

  The guy with the blue eyes name is: Brett. Didn’t Rick say blue-eyes was the one that bought her the drink? Maybe we can…

  “I got rubber gloves!” Matt announces, returning to his desk across from me.

  “One of the guy’s names is Brett. If we just search all the receipts, most of them have a first initial in front of the last name on the credit card.”

  “Dude, what did I miss?”

  “I just remembered something.”

  “And what do we do with a million receipts with the first initial B?”

  “Look them up in a DMV search.”

  Matt studies me for a second. “That’s the closest thing we’ve gotten to a lead so far.”

  I start furiously searching through receipts, pulling out every single one with the letter B as a first initial.

  “What happens if he paid cash?”

  “He didn’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just do. A rich prick like him is definitely using a card.”

  Two hours later, we have gone through all the receipts and picked out over a dozen names with the first initial B, or ones that are so illegible we decide to search them, anyway. Matt hovers over his computer screen. The small precinct of Angelica can’t afford those brand new flat screen desktops, either. We are talking big, bulky, first ever created computers. Some didn’t even come with a mouse. Ours is one of those. Matt hits the ‘Enter’ key a few times, as I hover over his shoulder. Oh and did I mention, partners have to share.

  He enters the password and a little hourglass pops up, spinning around and around.

  “Come on,” I mutter.

  “Dude, you’re not helping.”

  “This thing is so slow.” I slap the side of the big monitor.

  “Seriously, not helping.”

  A box pops up in the center of the screen. ‘Error.’

  “Error?”

  “Let me try a few things,” Matt mutters, clicking a few keys, bringing up another screen.

  “This is going to take forever.” I stalk away, wandering down the hall. I pass the interrogation rooms and find the chief’s door open. She’s reading something from an open file when I enter.

  “Chief? You got a minute?”

  “Sure.” She flips the file closed, “What’s on your mind?”

  “These computers. We can’t get anything done when they run on technology older than me.”

  She looks amused. “And what should I tell my boss when he asks me what we need them for? According to him, we aren’t doing anything but keeping the drunk tank warm and paying my salary with parking tickets.”

  “Um…”

  “Catch me some bad guys and I will get you new computers.”

  “How am I supposed to catch anyone when they have better technology than us?”

  “A detective would be able to figure it out,” sh
e mutters, putting her glasses on and returning her attention back to a folder with a silent dismissal.

  I return to Matt. He’s still tapping away at something. This entire thing is so messed up. I’m supposed to catch bad guys with a shitty car, shitty computer, and barely any leads. Every time I look at Becca in bed, I’m forced to come to terms with the fact it’s been two months or so and I’m no closer to finding these guys than I was when it first happened. I never should have let them run away. I should have given chase and beat the crap out of them.

  “We have to call IT. It doesn’t look like we will be able to get in today.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll get them tomorrow.”

  Opening the bottom desk drawer, I toss the black bag over my shoulder and head out. There’s no point in being here anymore. Two hours of overtime wasted. I feel like I’m not doing anyone any good now. I’ve failed my Chief, I’ve failed Matt, and worst of all, I’ve failed Becca.

  The ride home from the station seems endless; Becca’s investigation also endless. This is the town of a million questions and no answers. The receipts proved fruitless until we can get a working computer and the interviews turned up nothing. I promised Becca I would find these guys.

  Turns out, I can’t even do that for her. Maybe I’m not the type of man she needs. Apparently, I’m not intelligent enough or rich enough. What the hell is she doing with me?

  The night is dark, the darkest I’ve ever seen. Even my headlights barely make a difference.

  “See, even the moon gave up on me,” I mutter to the voice on the radio.

  By the time I pull into my space by the door of my apartment complex, that doubt has turned to anger. My boots clomp up the three flights of stairs and around the corner. I ram my key in the door and swing it open. All the lights are off. Instead of turning them on, I fumble with my boots and kick them to the side as I enter my bedroom.

  Pulling my shirt overhead, I freeze with my arms still stuck in the sleeves. A tuft of blonde hair sticks out from under the blankets. She squirms. Becca must have stayed here all day. She’s done that a few times, says she enjoys the quiet of my apartment.

  “Mm, John? Is that you?” Her voice softens me (well, most of me).

  “Yes,” I whisper, removing the rest of my shirt and unbuckling my pants. She rolls over. The only light in the room is from the alarm clock beside my bed. It makes her blue eyes strangely luminescent in the dark. She silently watches me, as if sensing I don’t want to talk. When I finally climb into bed, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me closer.