“Why would you offer to let me stay with you? Aren’t you worried about having a complete stranger in your home?”
I shook my head in disagreement. “Well, first off, you’re not a stranger; you’re my new friend Lainie Perry. As far as why I would offer, well, you and I seem to have a lot in common. Both of us come from bad situations, each trying to put some distance between us and Kentucky. Besides, I ain’t got a single thing of value in my whole house.”
The screaming of obscenities coming from the hall behind us immediately followed a loud crash. Her body flinched, retreating slightly. “I hate that man,” she spoke as if she were a small girl, recognizing the voice.
“I don’t think you have to worry about him. Detective Morgan seemed to have put quite the hurting on him.” I tried to reassure her as I gathered up the used items, tossing the trash into the lined can.
“Tell you what… I have a set of clothes in my locker that just might fit you. I have to give what you were wearing to the authorities. You’re welcome to use the shower.” I pointed to the closed door to her right. “Clean the night off yourself and I’ll be back shortly.” Dr. Gillman would still need to do a quick exam and sign off on her chart.
I should have avoided the room where he was being treated and continued down the hall away from the chaos. I had no real business or reason for my loitering. I had instructed Detective Morgan to stick around, but I didn’t think he would listen to me.
I watched him jerk the patient from the bed, ignoring his injuries and foul mouth and had to hold myself silent. I wanted to reach out and kick the living shit out of this man who inflicted such pain on a complete stranger, tell him to shut the fuck up, he was getting what he deserved.
Instead, I avoided eye contact; ignored the words he saved for me. My job was to heal the sick, not to stand in judgment of the crimes they committed, no matter how bad I wanted to. Speaking of healing the sick, I had a set of knuckles to attend to.
Something about Detective Morgan unnerved, yet comforted, me. Maybe it was his attitude when it came to his work. Or the way he gave this no nonsense approach to providing safety to those who couldn’t provide it themselves. Whatever it was, I liked the feeling I had in my chest when he seemed to be around.
Dr. Gillman finished his exam on Lainie, showing the tenderness he was famous for in the ER. He had her laughing at his stupid jokes, and even got a fist bump as he left the room.
Detective Morgan and Murphy still needed to question Lainie. She requested I stay in the room as they spoke with her.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the procedure, until the end. Morgan stood from his chair, pulled out a card from his wallet, and told her to call him anytime, day or night. “Ms. Perry, you don’t need to lose any sleep over this piece of dirt. I will testify as to what happened. He’s going to be spending several years in prison.” I noticed his belt buckle as he turned to place his wallet back in his hind pocket. An antique Texas Rangers shield. My younger brother had one he picked up at the flea market; it wasn’t in as good a shape as Morgan’s. A couple of points were missing from the center star of his.
“Thank you,” Lainie responded, her voice full of emotion.
Detective Morgan excused himself, leaving the room with the swagger of a confident man. All positive thoughts disappeared as I rounded the corner in time to see him talking with Shayla, all seductive smiles and close bodies.
“You off tomorrow night?”
Shayla’s smile hitting a level of seduction I’d seen Gigi use a million times.
“I will be with your help.” She giggled with a twirl of her hair, and her bottom lip captured between her white teeth.
With a nod he turned and left through the ambulance door. Detective Morgan, crime investigator by day, down right dirty whore by night. I had no use for either one. Any thoughts I previously had of him containing one ounce of respect for women were just thrown out the window.
At the end of the shift, I collected Lainie, who was wearing the clothes I wore to work, and together we went to the townhouse. Ms. Georgia took one look at Lainie, engulfed her in a hug and made us both breakfast. Carson listened patiently as I told him what had happened.
“Major Diesel will have a few words to say, I’ve no doubt of that.” The humor in his voice didn’t escape me. Although, I’d like to hear if Carson was correct. Would this Diesel person smack him around or just write his name on the board?
Although there were no openings here, at the townhouses, Ms. Georgia did have a friend who had a vacancy two blocks over.
“Let us both get a few hours rest and we’ll go check it out,” I assured her. With a full belly, I was fading fast.
“Okay,” she agreed, letting out a half huff, half exhausted sigh.
I wrapped an arm around her as we took heavy steps to my front door.
Six hours later, I watched as Lainie stood in the living room of an apartment owned by Ms. Charlotte Weston. Another fine representation of the Southern charm the lovely ladies of Charleston displayed on a daily basis. With her beauty salon fresh, silver hair and her pale green pantsuit, she looked closer to someone giving an interview instead of showing an apartment.
“The utilities are included in the rent and Ms. Georgia gave you a good reference, so I’m dropping the deposit.” Lainie spun quickly in her direction, her mouth wide and eyes bulging.
“As long as you keep the music down and the young men to a minimum, we will get along just fine.”
I swallowed hard for her. If I were in her shoes, men would be the furthest from my mind.
“There are no men,” she stumbled over the word, “in my life, nor in the immediate future.” She finished with conviction. Her face was perplexed as she took another look around.
“Ms. Charlotte, you’ve been so kind to me, a complete stranger. I feel you need to know something about me before I accept your offer.”
I reached for her hand, giving her all the courage I could, and threw a confident smile in her direction.
“If you’re gonna tell me about the goings on over at the campus, I’ve already heard. I hope they hang that son of a bitch from his short hairs.”
Another thing I loved about the women in this town, they were carved from solid steel and came together to support one another. They were the true definition of Steel Magnolias.
Lainie eagerly signed the lease, hugged Ms. Charlotte, and took the keys to her new home. I had a date with a potentially taken doctor in a few hours, something I needed to address beforehand. After Lainie and I got back to the townhouse, I dialed his number, sat on my bed, and played with a thread from my coverlet. Three rings in before his rich accent flowed through the receiver.
“You’re not ditching me, are ya?” His voice told me he was joking.
“Depends on how you answer my question.”
Silence followed my statement. Some would have taken it as a sign of things to come, but I wasn’t one of those people.
“Rumor has it you have a girl with a ring on her finger waiting on you back in Ireland.”
“Let me guess, Shayla told you this?” He sighed in exasperation.
I wasn’t going to lie to him, I expect the truth and I would damn well give it. “You’d be correct. Shayla found out I was seeing you tonight and told me about this girl of yours.”
He made a noise of aggravation, then began laughing. “Claire, you have my word, there is no girl sitting in Ireland with my ring on her finger.”
Three hours later, I sat across from Sean in a popular bar and grill downtown. He had arrived at my door, flowers in hand and a smile on his face. Lainie assured me she would be fine by herself and swore she would call Ms. Georgia if she got scared.
“So, your grandparents still live in Belfast?”
Our conversation flowed easily. He regaled me with how he grew up in Ireland. Grandparents who lived with them his entire life and of how he missed them the most. He spoke of how primary school was different than in the US and how
he fell instantly in love with fried chicken.
“What about you, Claire? What do you miss about Kentucky?”
I had to think long and hard. There was nothing I missed about my family and no real friends left behind. “The fog when it seems to hang in the pine trees growing tall along the hillside.”
Early in the morning, I would sometimes head out into the clearing not far from the RV. I’d look up and watch the cloud-like movement of the fog as the sunlight burned it off. At times I wished it would take me with it as it soared to new heights.
“I take it growing up wasn’t filled with trips to Disney and holidays on the beach.”
I lowered my eyes to the amber liquid in my half full beer glass, wishing I could lie to not only Sean, but to myself. Wanting to create this fantasy family who loved and cared for me.
“Vacation for us was a trip to the propane store to fill the tanks.”
When we first sat down, I had taken the seat with my back to the door. This decision made it impossible to see anyone come in, and was also how I missed Detective Morgan taking a seat at the bar and begin drinking shots of what I later assumed was whiskey. I discovered his presence and drink of choice when I excused myself to use the ladies’ room. He didn’t notice me, too wrapped up in the glass in his hand and the big chested bartender laughing with him.
The line to the restroom was short and I managed to avoid talking to anyone else waiting their turn. I was never one for small talk. I’d rather smile and be silently polite than to tell you how nice your shirt made your skin look.
I returned to my table with Sean playing the perfect gentleman by standing as I took my chair. Our waitress arrived to check to see if we wanted any dessert, which we both declined. Sean placed a crisp one-hundred dollar bill into the check holder.
“You know, you could have taken me out cheaper if we would have gone to your bar.”
Sean placed his wallet back into his jacket pocket. “Probably, but I wanted to bring you here,” he told me as he placed his hand on my lower back, smiling his cheeky smile.
The crowd had increased, and I was glad we were leaving. The hostess, who had showed us our table, wished us a good night. Sean pushed the door open as he returned her pleasantries. Turning to also return the sentiment, I caught sight of Detective Morgan and Shayla headed our way. His eyes caught mine, ending any thought of leaving quietly.
“Claire.” He slurred slightly, his arm around Shayla, cradling her to his side.
“Detective,” I returned. I glanced at an equally intoxicated Shayla, who was having a rough time placing one foot in front of the other. I chose to ignore her and try to get the hell out of here, knowing full well where they were headed. They deserved one another, both having the same outlook on casual sex. Shayla managed to nearly fall as she stepped into the night, joining us on the sidewalk. Her drunken laughter was contagious for her bed partner, as Morgan helped to right her on her feet then the pair proceeded to walk, weave, down the sidewalk away from us.
“Hey, you ready to go?” Sean questioned, holding his passenger door open for me.
With a smile and forward progression of my feet, I stepped toward the car. “Sorry, yes. I’m ready to go.”
How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
~William Shakespeare
Before my feet hit the carpet of my bedroom, the alert of an awaiting text message sounded. It had better not be Shayla, because it was too damn early in the morning to deal with her clingy ass. Last night had been a pure mind fuck for me. Messing with the way I’d lived and enjoyed my life. The feeling in my chest and the way it reacted to being around Claire…
“Fuck!” I tugged at my hair, trying to regain the control I always maintained, yet could feel slipping away. This girl was just another skirt, one I had sworn to avoid. I knew the attack from last night would be all over the station, as would my behavior. My suspension was confirmed as I read the message from my boss, Major Diesel, who wanted to have a word with me in his office. No one ever wanted to be summoned to the boss’s office, especially after a night like last night. Granted, I had stepped way out of the box in how I handled the attacker. Procedure dictated that I contacted dispatch for backup, but years of experience told me to do exactly what I had done. I knew what Diesel was going to do; smack my head for being too rough and threaten to write me up, but off the record, he’d tell me I did the right thing. I didn’t need him to tell me shit, the look on Lainie’s face as I left her last night was all the encouragement I needed.
“Ms. Melba, is he in?”
Melba Tolbert, a robust and tough as nails woman, had worked as the Major’s secretary for as long as he’d held the rank. You didn’t dare call her an assistant; she was old school and didn’t need a new title. The last three Majors all tried to change her, make things run smoother for her. One even tried to hire a younger lady to work in the office with her— she lasted three days. Once she figured out Ms. Melba could work circles around her, she was out the door.
“Yes, he is, sugar.” She looked over her half glasses, which never left the end of her nose. She wore too much perfume and the same orthotic shoes with every outfit. She also had the biggest heart, next to my momma.
“We heard about what happened to that poor girl. Thank the Lord above there are still men like you who do the right thing.” Her praise was genuine and not to boost my ego. “Now, when you gonna find your mind and get yourself a good girl?” Hands on her heavy hips, tight curls that were always in perfect order, never moving as her head turned to the side. “Your momma deserves to have a few grandbabies around to spoil rotten.”
With the smile I saved for the genuine women in my life, I told her, “Well, Ms. Melba, if you were single, I’d be on my knee right this second.”
With her pointer finger shaking in my direction, the look on her face changed from glad to see me to watch your cheeky ass. “Dylan, I love you like you were one of my own.” Her red lips were no longer smiling, but pierced in aggravation. “But you’re hurting yourself with this wild child behavior you’ve been showin’ ‘round town.” She picked up the white cardboard box that was on her desk. Southern women were born collecting shoe boxes, so they could bake a million cookies then pass them out to everyone with a pulse. This was to show off not only their culinary skills, but the brand of shoes they were either wearing or had stuffed in their closets.
“Here, I made this after I heard the news.” Nestled in the box was her world famous peanut brittle—a recipe that had been passed down for a thousand years, give or take.
“You know you want one.” Her sweet little sing-song voice teased me.
I closed my eyes and laughed. “But, Ms. Melba, if I eat those, I’ll get as big as a house and no girl will want to have babies with me.”
She smacked my chest and covered the box with the lid in frustration all while holding back her own laughter.
“Go on in, he’s waitin’.” She winked as she shooed me with her chubby hand. I loved to make her smile or cause a little blush to color those cherub cheeks, so I tossed her an air kiss, then planted my hand over my heart.
“Sir?” I rapped my knuckles on his door several times. Momma would have kicked my ass if I didn’t show some respect to my elders. Major Diesel was a thirty year veteran with the force. With his prior military experience and long history of lawmen in his family, he fit into the role as easily as he filled his starched shirts and blue jeans.
“Get in here,” he barked. Smoking for the majority of his life, gave him the hoarseness he used as intimidation. “Close the door behind ya.”
He was leaning back in his chair, the wood creaking from his weight, his level of activity limited to his laps between his desk and the coffee pot. “Got an interesting call last night.” His blue eyes were surrounded by wrinkles and silver hair framed his sun-damaged face. He laced his fingers behind his head, his face in a disapproving grimace. “Anything you want to tell me?”
“I walked up on an assault over on campus.”
“Did you call for backup? Coordinate with campus police?”
The fucker knew the answers, he was baiting me, but I didn’t feel like being one of the trophy fish he hung on his wall. “I saved a girl from years of expensive therapy and found the man responsible without costing the city overtime.” My straight and honest answer was one he couldn’t debate or hold against me. It was just my way of cutting to the chase.
“Listen, Dylan, I know the type of cop you are.” He leaned his elbows onto his massive desk. “Hell, I wish I had three hundred of you walking the streets every day.” He looked over to his left, where the window was open with a view of the bridge in sight. “I can’t have you going all solo and shit. Campus Police want an investigation into why they didn’t get a call from dispatch.”
“What did you tell them? ’Cause I know you’ve spoken with them already.”
He was trying hard as hell not to smile. “I told them our Detectives have never contacted them during an investigation before, why would the Captain start now?” He moved his body back to leaning in his chair, satisfied in his answer. “Now, tell me what happened. The truth, not the shit the newspaper is gonna print.”
Twenty minutes later, I had filled him in on every last detail. Well, not the fact I was having chest pain when I was near Claire, but everything he needed to know about the attack. “All right. Next time, send a message to the proper people. I’ll smooth things over with the Chief.” He reached for and opened a file from the stack he had on his desk. I started to get up from my chair when he held up his hand.
“And, Dylan.” His face was as serious as the situation. “Next time, rip his fucking balls off and feed them to him.”
“You got it,” I agreed as I two finger saluted him.
With another air kiss to Ms. Melba, I headed downstairs to my office. A decision I regretted all day. Once the media got hold of who the officer was involved, the phone never stopped ringing. Celia threatened to unplug the damn thing if it continued. Murphy and Kennedy let me know Frances didn’t try to bond out, opting to stay as a guest of the county jail. He also refused to let the medical staff have a look at him. It was the highlight of the day when they described how one of the nurses down there made him stand in the shower while she scrubbed him with a brush.
Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 Page 9