Linda Barrett - Count on a Cop

by Summer at the Lake

He burst out laughing. “Only very nice?”

  “I knocked you out, didn’t I?” She beamed.

  “To the next galaxy and back. Come here, woman.” He pulled her closer, and she cuddled on his chest.

  “Know what?” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “This woman…the one lying on top of you right now…feels alive again. At least for this moment.”

  She felt him stroking her hair, now hanging loosely, felt him gently massaging her neck. “So now I’ve become a sex therapist?” he asked.

  “Absolutely!” She grinned and shifted position to see his face.

  “Well, that solves it. I’ve started a new career, after all.” His jovial expression turned serious after a moment. “It’s really been four years for you, hasn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  “You honor me, Kris. I hope I never disappoint you.”

  Never was a long time, but she didn’t want to explore that now. She yawned and began to surf for her clothes. “We need to get Ash.”

  He peered at his watch. “One o’clock. She’s probably sound asleep.”

  “Hopefully,” Kristin said, pulling on her slacks. “But we’re going to find out for sure.”

  He dressed in a minute, then when she yawned again, suggested she change into comfortable sweats. “It’ll save you time later.”

  They entered Rick’s house quietly, the lamp in the hall lighting their way. The front rooms were empty, but a note was propped on the kitchen table.

  We had a good evening. Ashley’s in Madison’s bed. You two use the sofa and love seat. Blankets already there.

  “Where’s Madison’s room?” asked Kristin, suddenly anxious to check on her daughter.

  “I’ll let the dog show you.”

  “Oh, hi, Quince. I never heard you.” She rubbed the shepherd’s neck. “Where’s Ashley, boy?”

  Quincy started in the opposite direction and led her to the first door in the bedroom wing. It stood half-open, and Kris could detect a blue light glowing from a low wall outlet.

  Quincy entered first, then lay down on the rug next to the bed and stared up at the humans.

  Ashley was breathing easily, sound asleep, a little smile at the corners of her mouth. Kristin’s heart caught as it always did when she studied her child. She crouched next to the dog and hugged him.

  “Thanks, Quincy. You’re the best sitter she could have right now.”

  His acknowledgment took the form of a big lick on her cheek. Standing again, she started to leave…and caught the wistful expression on Rick’s face as he took in the scene they presented. Wistful and something more. Much more.

  He’d never uttered a word about his deeper feelings. Maybe he never would, which might be a good idea. Declarations would only complicate matters, and she didn’t need more stress. Ashley was still her first priority.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  KRISTIN MULLED IT OVER in her mind and couldn’t get any closer to the answer she wanted.

  On Monday night, after she and Ashley had returned from their weekly trip to Dr. Kaplan’s, they’d found a note on their door. “Got a gig. See you in the a.m.”

  True to his word, Rick had dropped in the next morning after his usual jog around the lake with Quincy. He’d stayed for a cup of coffee and talked about how much he’d enjoyed playing his sax with the jazz band. But he hadn’t said a word about the incident. Kristin had had to hear about it from Sam.

  The sheriff called her on Tuesday, probably thinking she’d encourage Rick to rejoin the force. She’d listened to the tale of two inebriated guests that Rick had subdued, Mirandized and prepared for their rides to jail the night before at the club. No damage to property.

  “Mike Rio pressed charges against his own customers,” Sam had said. “He runs a first-class operation and wants to set an example for other patrons. And Rick—well, our boy can’t figure out why he jumped in. As he said to me, ‘I was playing my sax, not working O.T. What the hell did I do that for?’”

  Sam had seemed happy about the whole thing, and Kristin understood why. The older man felt as though he was Rick’s mentor in law enforcement.

  Kristin, on the other hand, had a knot in her stomach. Law enforcement was dangerous work. Period. Even a sloppy drunk could grab a knife and lunge. The idea frightened her, and she was glad Rick was going after other positions. She hated the thought of him leaving New York, but moving to St. Louis certainly trumped getting killed.

  She couldn’t talk about her fears with Rick, because he hadn’t mentioned the incident and she didn’t think she should pry. But why hadn’t he told her?

  RICK WAS IN UNIFORM, the short-sleeved summer version, directing traffic again and amazed at how his wandering mind didn’t get in the way of his work. The roads were becoming jammed. Little by little, more seasonal residents had shown up. Now, in the middle of June, he’d guess that at least three-quarters of the lake houses were occupied.

  “Rick! Rick!”

  He waved at Ashley, who’d leaned her head out of the car window to shout his name. She and Kris were probably going to the Y. They had only one more lesson to complete the self-defense course.

  “See you later,” he promised. “You can show me what you learned today. Both of you.”

  Kris smiled and drove on. Rick sighed. Neither he nor Kristin were happy. They hadn’t been since last Saturday night, when they’d spent the wee hours tossing and turning on the couches. Finally, Kris had told him to go to his own bedroom or neither of them would sleep.

  On Sunday morning, Ash had chattered nonstop, asking questions and watching them. His mom prepared a big breakfast and served it with a smile that matched. And all he wanted to do was get Kristin alone and make love again. Or talk. Or both.

  He couldn’t do any of that, however, so he’d told their audience about their trip to the jazz club, and Kristin had chimed in. Ashley was enthralled with their story about meeting her dad’s friend. Her face lit up like sunshine, and she asked a million questions.

  “It’s hard to believe she’s the same girl you brought to meet Quincy that first time,” he’d said quietly.

  “You’re right.” Kristin’s voice was full of wonder. “Thank goodness Quincy’s here. And thank goodness you’re here,” she murmured with a warm smile. “This summer wouldn’t have been the same without you both. Too bad summer can’t last all year.”

  As much as he agreed with her, they both knew a long-term relationship would never work. Kristin needed someone very trustworthy, not someone who screwed up so badly that three people died. She and Ashley needed someone they could depend on. Rick was okay only for the summer—at least part of it, before their leaves of absence were over.

  He directed a group of shoppers across the street and suddenly, as though waking from a dream, he started to absorb his surroundings. The small shops, Dora’s Diner, the post office, people strolling at their leisure. Small Town, USA. What the heck was he doing directing traffic in this rural burg when he should be working a roster of cases and handling crisis situations?

  New York City teased—the fast pace, the constant stimulation, the precinct house, his buddies. To his great surprise, a wave of excitement rolled through him, quickly followed by a wave of fear. He could fail again. Others could die. Certainly, he wasn’t the only negotiator on Stein’s team, but he had been at the top of the list.

  Where he could do the most good.

  A car honked, bringing him back to the present. His old job required concentration, and at the moment he couldn’t even direct traffic and focus on his situation at the same time. He wondered what Doc Romano would say about that during their next phone call.

  WILD SALMON DRIZZLED with a lemon-butter sauce, homemade coleslaw, steamed asparagus and basmati rice were on the dinner menu at Kristin’s home that evening. Rick whistled in admiration as she set the table. Not the usual fare.

  “Mom says we’re celebrating,” said Ashley glumly. “Why couldn’t we just have pizza? This s
tuff is awful.”

  From an eleven-year-old’s point of view, that made sense. “Actually, it’s elegant,” he replied. “I’m impressed, and your mom went to a lot of trouble.”

  “Not really,” said Kris, offering him a cold drink. “But we are celebrating a lot of accomplishments tonight. Tell him, Ashley.”

  The child looked excited. “I finished my final exams today with Ms. Rules. Yay! She’s going to mail the answer books to my old school, and I’ll get to go to seventh grade next year.”

  “Confident, are we?” he teased, then glanced at Kristin. Old school?

  She barely shrugged and Rick knew she was no closer to a solution than she’d been the week before. In three weeks, she would go back to work, even if she and Ash had to rent one of those monthly hotel suites. The upside was that she’d be able to pay the charge. But he wondered what Ashley would do all day until school started.

  A big sigh escaped the girl, and she shook her head. “I’m not very confident. The only subject I aced was math. But everything else—I don’t know. The short answer questions were easy. Too easy. And the essays? Well, I filled up the booklets and could have written more. But now I’m worrying. I probably fell into a lot of traps with the short answers.”

  He took the pitcher of cold water and placed it on the table while Kristin retrieved the utensils. “Maybe you found it easy because your mom’s a great teacher,” he suggested. “That could be it.”

  “I’m not sure how great,” Kristin said, “but I’m pretty strict.” She looked at her daughter. “What do you think?”

  Ash shrugged and avoided her gaze. “You’re not so tough, Mom. I liked studying together. I wish we—”

  One glance at Kristin’s expression, and his heart twisted for her. She didn’t want to hear the rest of Ashley’s thought.

  “Tell the truth, Ash,” Rick interrupted. “Weren’t you bored sometimes with no friends around? I saw how you enjoyed having Madison and Danny for company.”

  “Maybe sometimes, but then I’d practice the flute or piano, or read. I’ve read about fifteen books so far.”

  The child would have an answer for every objection he could bring up, because she was frightened. “A flute solo is nicer when it’s part of an orchestra’s repertoire. And for that, you need other players.”

  For a moment, just for a nanosecond, he believed Ash was going to agree with him. Her eyes brightened, her cheeks grew pink, and she seemed eager to discuss the topic. But then she shrugged.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  But it did matter to her. Maybe an ensemble was the key to getting her out with others. He tucked the notion away.

  “And what else are we celebrating?” he asked.

  Now Ash did get excited. “We finished our self-defense lessons and tomorrow we get tested. I took lots of notes. Wanna see?”

  “I’d rather see a demo.”

  “Sure!”

  “If you think I’m letting this lovely dinner go cold…” began Kris, leaving the threat to their imagination. She motioned for them to sit down. “I’ll probably forget everything I’ve learned when I have to take the test tomorrow.”

  “That’s more reason to practice, Mom. Now I get to be strict.”

  “Way to go, Ashley. I like that,” Rick said. “I’ll hold Quincy back when you and your mom mess around.”

  “No need,” said the girl, sliding a filet to her plate. “I’ve already trained him to stay away. I learned how from a book. It said to use rewards only, and that positive reinforcement was the best method.” She leaned closer to Rick. “I think the book was right,” she confided.

  “You’re quite resourceful, kiddo,” he said. He looked at Kris and winked. “Feed me.”

  She stared at the laden table, then at him, and started to laugh. Pleasure bloomed inside him as he realized she was recalling their date. It gave him hope.

  An hour later, after the kitchen was cleaned up, he watched Kris and Ashley practice what they’d learned. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “If I were teaching the class, neither of you would graduate.”

  “I know, I know,” said Kris. “We’re fooling around too much. But in class, it’s serious.”

  “Well, make it serious now.”

  She caught Ash’s eye. “I think he means business, so get ready to block me.” She grabbed a pillow from the sofa and came at her daughter from the side. Ashley swung her arm, deflecting her and ran. Kris tripped backward but caught herself.

  “Better,” he called. “Running is smart, Ash. Getting away is your first goal. Try blocking from the other side.”

  She did, then Kris practiced the same maneuvers.

  “How about some strikes?” he asked.

  “Palm heel,” said Ashley. “For the soft spots. Eyes, ears, nose, throat…” She went through the motions with the heel of her hand against Kris’s body, then demonstrated basic kicks to the groin and shin. “Touch, not tackle,” she said, “like in little kids’ football.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. His kiddo had actually learned something. “Do it again, Ash.” He watched and liked what he saw. Students needed to practice over and over until their reactions were automatic.

  Ash was ready to learn more, and he could teach her. But if they worked together now, their role-playing might trigger a flashback. He understood the risks very well. However, he’d worked with enough child victims in the past to know that role-playing therapy was often helpful. Often. Not always. He studied Ashley closely as she practiced with her mother and made his decision.

  “Now, we’re going to change the players and change the scenario a little,” he said. “I’ll be your partner, Ashley. I’m taller than your mother and it’ll be good practice. Work it like you mean it. Blocks, strikes and kicks. And don’t worry about hurting me. I’ll protect myself, so go after me with all you’ve got.” He jabbed her playfully on the shoulder. “I can take it.”

  She looked doubtful. “Are you sure? Mom says I’m the best one in the class.”

  Then the whole class needed help. “Absolutely sure. Here’s the situation.” He walked ten paces away from her before turning around. “We’re on the sidewalk. I’m a mugger. I want your purse.” Now he moved toward her, reached to grab an imaginary purse. “What do you do?”

  She responded with action, throwing the “purse” at him…and running to the front door.

  “Bravo!” called Kris as Ashley marched back into the living room. “Give up the purse and run as fast as you can.”

  “Exactly right,” said Rick. “Now, one more time, except there’s no purse.” He motioned for Ashley to come toward him. “I’m going to grab you, and you fight back. Strikes and kicks.”

  He waited until they had almost passed each other, then he spun and held her around the waist. “Let’s go,” he growled.

  That was all it took. “No!” she screamed. And went berserk. Her arms and legs swung out everywhere, her eyes were wide open and didn’t blink.

  “She’s back there,” Rick said. “Post-traumatic stress disorder.”

  “Leave me alone, leave me alone,” she whispered frantically, then moaned. “It’s dark in here. So dark, so dark…Please, please…I don’t want…stop, stop, let me go….”

  She was on the floor, arms tight at her sides, rolling left, then right. She kicked and cried, tears streaming. “It hurts, it hurts…Mom-my! Mommy, Mommy, Mommy….” She held that last syllable until his heart broke.

  Kristin sank to the floor beside her and wrapped an arm around her daughter. “Mommy’s right here, Ash,” she cooed. “Right next to you. I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m holding you. Come to me.” The child crawled blindly and Kristin helped her, her soft voice murmuring nonstop words of comfort.

  When Kris finally signaled that Ashley had relaxed, Rick ushered them to the couch and watched Ash creep onto her mother’s lap.

  “Hush, hush, sweetheart,” soothed Kris. “It’s all right. You’re fine. Nobody’s hurting you.”

>   “Yes, yes he did! He did hurt me.” She spoke into Kristin’s chest. “That big man. He was tall and big. Bigger than Rick, maybe as tall as the ceiling.”

  Kris glanced at him, worry lines crinkling her brow.

  “To Ash, he could have been,” he whispered. Then in a louder voice, he asked, “And what else did you see, honey?”

  She moved her head to see him and pointed to her cheek. “A tattoo. Right here. A snake. Curled up. Maybe a rattlesnake. Before he pulled his hat down. And then it got dark. I think…think he shut off the light.”

  Rick took a pen from his pocket and grabbed a piece of paper. “Ash, I know you’d rather just cuddle with your mom right now, but I need your help. Can you draw the tattoo or anything else you remember?” he asked, offering her the pen.

  Her hand shook, but she produced a coiled snake with two fangs showing.

  “What color was it?”

  She took a moment. “Purple.”

  “Good. What else do you remember, honey?” He was kneeling on the floor in front of them, wanting to wrap them both in his arms, wanting to comfort them and make everything better. But that was a luxury he couldn’t afford at the moment.

  “His voice. A mean voice. Rough and low, like he had a cold or had pebbles in his throat.”

  “Then he did some talking…?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, and started to cry again. She turned away from him and thoroughly soaked Kristin’s blouse. Rick found some tissues, made room for Quincy next to the couch and simply waited.

  “Quincy!” Ash cried, when she finally noticed him. She leaned over to hug the dog. “I forgot about him just now.”

  The interaction between animal and child was really a beautiful thing to see. If circumstances had been different, Rick could have enjoyed it more.

  “You needed people this time, Ash,” he answered. “People you can trust. People who can take action to help you.”

  She thought about his statement for a moment, then nodded. “You’re smart.”

  “You said he did some talking in that bathroom…”

  Her eyes clouded, her chin trembled. “He…he had a knife. A big, big one.”