Chapter 23
23
BEN
I’ve never felt pissed about being called into work before. Even when it’s happened in the middle of a date. It’s part of the job. The job I love. But tonight, I’m pissed. What’s worse is that I got the impression Hope was relieved I had to cancel. I shouldn’t have suggested that we have dinner tonight. It was too soon. But it was impossible not to jump on the opportunity to spend some time alone with her, and now I’ve probably spooked her.
I pull into the parking lot of the nursing home and push my hectic thoughts away to focus on the task at hand. “Are you ready, Rex?”
He barks loudly in response, and my lips widen. This is what we live for. We climb out of the cruiser and head straight to the lead officer, who takes long strides straight toward us with his hand outstretched. “Taylor.” We shake hands. “Rex.” He rubs Rex’s scruff. “Thanks for coming out so quickly.”
“No problem.”
“We have an eighty-five-year-old female with dementia. Anne Sinclair. The home didn’t know what time she left the building, but we’ve looked over security footage and discovered she left around fifteen-thirty hours. They only discovered her missing when she wasn’t in her room when they went to collect her for dinner.” My eyebrows shoot up and he nods sagely. “Footage shows her wearing a cotton dress and no shoes. In the past when she’s had lucid moments, she’s attempted to escape from the facility. It seems she succeeded today.”
“Jesus. She’ll be freezing.”
He nods, a grim expression tightening the area around his eyes and mouth. “Yeah. Time is of the essence. If you head to the reception desk, they have an item belonging to Anne for Rex. We need to hurry.”
“Got it.” I tug on Rex’s lead. “C’mon, Rex. Let’s get started.”
We head inside, where it’s significantly warmer, and I wonder how on earth someone known to have dementia can walk out the front door without being stopped or, at the very least, noticed.
The receptionist hands me a plastic bag with what looks to be a pillow case inside. “Once the police requested an item of Anne’s, we thought it best to seal it in a bag to prevent our scent from being added to it.”
I tip my head and give her a grateful smile. “Thank you. Appreciate it.”
The woman fidgets. “I feel so bad. I left the desk to go to the bathroom. I was only gone a few minutes. That must have been when she wandered out with a group of visitors. I’m so sorry.”
It’s not me who she needs to apologize to, so I just tip my head in acknowledgement, then crouch down to Rex and pull the bag open. “Okay, Rex. Take a deep, long sniff. Let’s find Anne and bring her home safely.”
He buries his nose into the bag and sniffs the fabric, then drops his snout to the carpet, sniffing the surrounding area. I climb to my feet, holding the bag in case he needs a refresher along the way. I never know how long a search will take, because it’s impossible to predict how far someone’s traveled in the time they’ve been missing. He moves toward the large glass doors and they slide open, exposing us to the chill of the night.
Rex obviously has a potent scent, and I follow his lead.
One hour passes—and another. White clouds form in front of my face with each breath I take, and there’s still no sign of Anne. Her lack of appropriate clothing for the cool of the night increases my concern by the minute. She’s not even wearing shoes on her damn feet.
Rex heads into a playground and sniffs around the swings. “What is it, boy?” He looks up at me, his tail wagging. “Where’s Anne?”
He barks in response.
He takes off again toward the opposite side of the playground, stopping at the slide and the climbing frame. We head down the sidewalk and keep moving through the darkened streets, lit every ninety feet by the soft yellow glow of the street lamps.
We’ve traveled a good eight miles so far, and still no sign of her. My stomach drops as my worry for her well-being grows. Rex has an exceptional search-and-find success rate, one of the best on the force, so I’m confident we’ll find her. My concern is for what state she’ll be in when we do.
Yet another hour passes, and we’re closing in on 10:30. The temperature’s dropped since we started our search, and she’s been missing for seven hours now.
Rex veers off the sidewalk, passes through a rusted metal gate, and steps onto a stone walkway that’s overgrown with weeds, leading up to a porch with more rotten planks than I would trust to support my weight. The smashed windows of the home are dirty with years of grime, and it looks as though it’s been abandoned for decades.
Rex bolts to the darkest corner, and a lump comes into view. My heart sinks as I drop to my knees beside the elderly woman. She’s unnaturally still, and I rest my hand on her back, noting the lack of body heat and movement. I shift my hand up and over her shoulder, placing two fingers on the side of her throat, and dip down so my cheek is next to her mouth and nose.
Nothing.
Devastation washes over me, and I drop my head out of respect. “I’m sorry, Anne.” I shake my head and remove my jacket, gently placing it over her body, covering as much of her as I can. I know it won’t make any difference, but it feels wrong to leave her exposed to the cold.
I make the call that I’ve found her and give our location, then drop to my butt to sit beside her, taking her frozen hand in mine.
Rex whines and drops to his stomach on her other side, lying close and sharing his body heat with her.
My thoughts go to her family and the pain they’re about to experience with the loss of their loved one. She was possibly someone’s wife, mother, aunt, sister. She was definitely someone’s daughter. She lived a long life, and this is how it ends for her—frozen and alone. It’s so damn tragic. And so unfair.
While I wait for support to arrive, I can’t help but think about the relief in Hope’s voice when I told her I had to work. I’m man enough to admit it stung a little. I had hoped we were at least beginning to build on the initial stages of friendship—and maybe we are, but she’s scared.
I’ve caught her checking me out, so I think she’s attracted to me on some level. Maybe she feels guilty when she promised herself to Wyatt, but I doubt he’d want her to be alone for the rest of her life. If she were my wife, I know I wouldn’t want that for her.
There are no blue and red flashing lights when the team arrives, and we efficiently and respectfully work together to do what needs to be done for Anne.
It’s almost midnight when I finish with the necessary paperwork and head out of the station. I’m beat. And starving—I didn’t have time to eat dinner. The thought of going home to an empty house is unappealing after seeing Anne curled into a ball, alone on the porch of an abandoned house.
My phone buzzes, so I drag it out of my pocket.
Cookie
I hate to bother you, but I wanted to check if you found the lady you were looking for
I can’t turn my mind off … I just keep wondering
If you can’t share that information with me, I understand
She’s still awake. A grin explodes across my face, and suddenly I don’t feel so tired. I’m not surprised she was concerned; she has such a empathetic heart.
I’d love to see her, so instead of answering, I head toward her house. “Do you think she’ll let us in, Rex?” I hope so.
When I pull up in Hope’s driveway, the soft glow of the television shines around the edge of the curtains. I grab Rex, lock the cruiser, and head straight for her front door with my heart racing. I have to physically pause and take a deep, calming breath to stop myself from banging down her door.
Slow. Slow. Slow .
I knock softly, in case she’s asleep. As time ticks on and there’s no answer, my shoulders curl inward, and fatigue begins to overwhelm me.
“Who’s there?” her soft, lyrical voice comes through the door. The porch light turns on, bathing me and Rex in a soft glow.
She’s still awake!
I clear my throat. “It’s just me.” I drop my head to study my sneakers. What was I thinking, turning up on her doorstep at midnight? “Sorry. I know it’s late. I shouldn?—”
The click of the lock rings out and sends my pulse spiking. The door swings open, revealing her gorgeous face, free from makeup, and her curls piled haphazardly on top of her head. I can’t see her body because she’s hiding behind the door.
“Everything okay?” she asks, worry pinching around her eyes. I swallow, unable to speak, as she steps out from behind the door in an oversized army sweatshirt and long knitted socks that reach above her knees, leaving a couple of inches of her toned thighs exposed. She looks fucking adorable. “Ben? Are you all right?” she asks as she unlocks and pushes open the screen door.
“We didn’t have a positive outcome tonight and the thought of goi—” Before I can finish, she has her tiny body pressed against mine, her face buried in my chest, and her slim arms wrapped around my waist.
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles against my jacket.
My breath stutters in my lungs at the feel of her against my body. I close my eyes and cup the back of her head as I hook my other arm around her waist to hold her close. We fit together perfectly. Like she was always meant to be in my arms.
Rex whines at our feet, and when I look down at him, he’s looking up at us, his ears pricked and eyes questioning. Hope pulls away from me to crouch so she can say hello to Rex, and now I’m wishing I’d dropped him home first.
“Would you like to come inside where it’s warm?” She rubs Rex’s scruff. “You do, don’t you, boy?” She looks up at me from her crouched position and a sudden vision of her on her knees, taking my cock deep down her throat, assaults me.
My dick wakes up. Down, boy. This isn’t the time to show off.
“Have you eaten?”
I shake my head, trying desperately to shove the illicit image from my mind. “No.”
“I can reheat the dinner I made,” she offers.
Now I feel like an asshole. I never apologized for wasting her time in the kitchen preparing dinner for us. “I’m sorry about tonight.”
She shrugs, her marine-colored eyes sparkling beneath the porch light. “Don’t worry about it. Come inside.”
She steps to the side, allowing us to enter her home. It’s considerably warmer, and I instantly feel better after the discovery Rex and I made tonight. Just being in Hope’s presence is enough to wipe away the image of Anne curled up on what we discovered was the porch of her childhood home. We found out, from her niece, that she had never married or had children—that she was pretty much alone.
The knowledge added to the devastation of our discovery and only highlighted the aloneness and isolation of the life I’ve created for myself. I see Sebastian every few weeks—at best. I have friendly banter with the crew at work, but I haven’t developed any solid friendships. City life is quite different from country life—where everyone knows everyone—making it difficult to create bonds.
I’ll never regret moving to the city, because I needed to escape the memories and toxicity of my hometown, but I find living here lonely … until Hope and Evan. They’ve been a bright spot in my otherwise routine life, and being in her company makes me feel … better.
Hope steps into the kitchen and flicks on the light, then heads straight to the fridge. “Take a seat and I’ll heat this up. It’ll only take a couple of minutes.”
I watch her move around the kitchen with ease. She said she loves to cook and her fridge and pantry certainly look well-stocked. Leaning my elbows on the counter, I angle forward as she bends over to reach something at the bottom of the cupboard. The oversized sweatshirt she’s wearing—that I suspect belonged to Wyatt—still covers her ass, but I’m treated to a little more thigh. When she stands with two empty metal dog bowls for Rex, my brain goes haywire.
Pointing to the dishes, I ask the obvious question, “Are those for Rex?”
She looks down at them, as if to clarify what I’m talking about. “Well, yeah. I bought them on my way home today, so he’d have something to use whenever he comes over.” Her eyes widen, and she slams her mouth closed as if she’s shared a secret that’s not hers to share, but her words give me hope that something can grow between us. Especially if she’s thinking about Rex coming over regularly, because we both know Rex won’t be coming here alone. Pink races up her neck, and I can’t tear my gaze away from her and the startled expression she’s wearing.
I climb to my feet and, without taking my eyes from her, make my way around the counter until I’m in her space. The bowls press against my abs, and I look down into her uncertain gaze. She tilts her head back and swallows roughly.
“You didn’t have to do that, but I’m not gonna lie, I appreciate it.” I flick my eyes between hers. “I know you were uncertain about Rex, so it means a lot to me you trust him in your home. It means even more to me you think enough of him to have bought these.” I take them from her hands, dropping my gaze to her lips. I’d do anything right now to lean down and press my mouth to hers to show my appreciation.
Slow. Slow. Slow .
I break the moment and spin toward the sink to fill one bowl with water and place it on the floor beside the counter.
Still frozen in the same spot, she watches me. “You’re welcome,” she murmurs as she finally moves toward the fridge. “I cooked him some chicken and vegetables for dinner. I’ll just … uh … grab it from the fridge.”
It’s my turn to freeze as she grabs the container and empties it into the second bowl, then places it on the floor beside his water. “You made him dinner?” Rex wastes no time and digs in. He didn’t get to eat either, so he’s starving.
“Yeah. I assumed he’d come with you. I didn’t want him to go hungry.” Her thoughtfulness touches a place deep inside. Her assumption that I’d bring him with me and planned accordingly warms my heart.
“I hadn’t planned to bring him with me, but thank you for thinking of him.” I could keep going with my gratitude, but the microwave beeps, letting us know my midnight dinner is ready.
Hope points to the opposite side of the counter and tells me to sit, then grabs my plate out of the microwave and slides it in front of me. I draw in a deep breath of the delicious smelling dish.
“Beef stroganoff,” she tells me, then tips some milk and chocolate into a saucepan on the stove. “I hope you like it.” She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and passes it to me.
“It smells delicious, and I’m starving.” I collect my fork. “Thanks for this.”
“You’re welcome,” she says easily as she stirs the milk and chocolate on the stove. I take my first bite without taking my eyes from her exposed thighs.
When the first creamy bite lands on my tongue, I moan. I chew the tender beef and swallow, quickly scooping up another bite. “This is really good.”
“Glad you like it. I can’t make it for Evan because he doesn’t like mushrooms.” She pours the chocolate milk into a mug, then pulls out the stool beside me and sits, wrapping her hands around the warm ceramic. We’re both quiet for a few moments. “Do you want to talk about what happened tonight?”
I swallow the food in my mouth. I guess that’s partly why I came here. I didn’t want to be alone. I needed to know there was someone around. Someone who would listen if I needed to talk. Anne isn’t the first person we’ve searched for who didn’t make it, but her passing is fresh. Normally, I’d go home, have a couple of beers and push everything away. But I don’t have to do that tonight.
“The person we were searching for walked out of a nursing home. She was there because she had dementia, and I’m struggling to comprehend how she could walk out of there with no one noticing. They said she often tries to escape when she’s lucid, but still …” I swallow past my anger at the poor management of the facility. “She was wearing a cotton dress. Didn’t even have shoes on. Security footage showed she walked out at 3:30 p.m. with a group of visitors who were leaving, but nobody noticed her missing until dinnertime.”
Hope gasps. “That’s awful.”
I nod. “I know. Rex and I searched for more than three hours and eight and a half miles before we found her curled up in the darkened corner of the porch of an abandoned house. She was so still and so cold. I covered her with my jacket and held her hand while Rex and I sat with her until my team arrived.”
Hope’s hand slides across the counter between us and covers mine. Her warm fingers wrap around mine, and she squeezes. I flip my hand over and link our fingers together, much the same way I did last time. Dropping my gaze to where we’re connected, I note how pale her skin looks against mine, how small her hand is, and how right it feels to be accepting her quiet support.
“We found out she used to live there as a child.” That was probably the most heartbreaking knowledge of the night.
I raise my gaze to Hope’s face. Tears fill her eyes and topple over her lashes to trail slowly down her porcelain cheeks. “Oh, god. That’s just so tragic.”
I spin on my stool, bringing me closer to her, and raise my hands to cup her face. Using my thumbs, I gently wipe away the tears on her cheeks. Cheeks that should never glisten with tears, only rise with happiness. Her eyes flick between mine and my lips, and the temptation to lean forward and press a kiss to hers is almost too much to fight.
It wouldn’t take much.
A slight pitch forward.
But then I glance back up at her eyes, and all I see is confusion. It’s like someone’s opened the back door and let the chilly night air in. It’s a reality check. One I needed.
Leaning back, I put more space between us and slide my hands down her cheeks to her neck, across her slim shoulders, and reluctantly pull them away. Turning forward again, I sever the connection, and in my periphery, I see her shoulders sag and hear a soft breath leave her mouth. I’m such an ass. Touching her like I have the right to.
Grabbing my fork, I scoop up more food and nod. “Yeah. Rex and I have had a few searches over the years that haven’t ended well, but this one felt … different somehow.”
“I can’t even imagine,” Hope murmurs.
I focus on eating my dinner while Hope drinks her hot chocolate. No more words are spoken, but the silence isn’t uncomfortable. Rex has finished eating, so he’s lying on the floor with his head resting on his front paws, his stomach full and satisfied.
When I’m finished eating, I collect Hope’s empty cup and my plate and carry them to the sink to wash the dishes.
“You don’t have to do that,” she says as she rises.
I look at her over my shoulder. “Yes, I do. You made a delicious meal for Rex and me. I’ve intruded on your sleep. It’s the least I can do.”
She flicks her wrist, waving off my words, then bends down to grab Rex’s empty bowl. We work together to clean up, and I no longer have any reason to stay. She needs to sleep, and I should get home. I wipe my hands on my jeans.
“Thanks for letting me come in, for feeding me, and for listening. I couldn’t face going home to an empty house.”
She smiles sadly as we walk to the front door. “I’m glad I could be here for you. I completely understand about the empty house part.” She waves her hand around, gesturing toward the emptiness of her house. “It’s not much fun.”
I scratch my short nails through my trimmed beard, so I don’t reach for her. I’ve already crossed the line tonight, and I don’t want to do it again. “No. It’s not.”
She opens the door and pushes the screen door open, wrapping her arms across her middle as she holds it open with her body.
Rex steps onto the porch first and looks up at her as if to thank her for dinner, and she rubs the scruff of his neck. “See ya, Rex. You did good tonight, even if it didn’t have a happy ending.” He licks her while his tail wags, making her chuckle. She stands to her full height, bringing the top of her head in line with my chin. “See ya, Ben. Get some sleep.”
“You, too. Thanks again.” I lean in and kiss her cheek lightly, and then head down the porch steps before I wrap my arms around her lithe body and pull her tight against me so I can taste her properly.