Chapter 2
KANE
I never used to be jealous of my coupled-up friends before.
Well. Not jealous exactly. It’s not like I want their partners for myself. It’s more the concept I get slightly wistful about.
Back in my twenties, I didn’t give relationships a second thought. Casual dates? Sure. Friends with benefits? Perfect. But actual commitment? No thanks.
Commitment meant having to run my plans by someone else. It meant no late nights out with the guys. And worst of all, it came with the possibility of having my heart crushed in an instant, just like what happened to my mom.
So I was more than happy to keep things simple.
But over the last couple of years, I’ve started coming around to a different perspective. I’ve seen my friends fall in love, suddenly happier than I’d ever seen them before. I’ve watched some of them even have kids, which seemed intimidating in the past, but now? It seems kind of nice.
A little boy to teach baseball? Or a little girl to take hiking? Somewhere around my thirtieth birthday, I started to like the idea.
And being partnered with Oliver, who recently married Shea, I’ve gotten a first-hand look at just how life-changing being with the right person can be.
It’s not that he moped around before Shea. But ever since he and Shea got back together after spending four years apart, I’ve seen a different side to my partner. He’s happier. He laughs more. And when he sees Shea—shit, when he even talks about her—his whole face lights up.
I’d like that. Finding the woman who can make my day better with a smile. A woman to come home to after a hard day, who would greet me with a hug and a kiss, just like Shea always does when she sees Oliver.
So I guess I’m ready for something serious. I just haven’t found the right woman yet.
In all of Sleepy Hollow, with plenty of available women, there’s only been one who actually intrigued me. But she couldn’t be more closed-down and clearly not looking for a relationship.
But I’m in no hurry. I’ll meet the right person, eventually. Although?—
“Hey, Shea’s calling.” Oliver pulls his phone from his pocket just as I pull into the Sleepy Hollow Police Department parking lot. He taps the screen to answer, and says, “Hi, love. How are you?”
A beat later, I catch him smile out of the corner of my eye. “Yeah, I missed you, too.” He pauses. “Can you hang on one second? We’re just pulling up at the station.” Another pause. “Yeah, we’re almost done with our shift. I just want to talk to Kane for a sec. Okay?”
He turns to me as I’m shifting the car into park. “Shea has a few questions about some of the renovations we’re doing to the house. I’m just going to stay in the car for a few minutes to talk to her.”
“Hey, no problem,” I reply with a smile. “I’ll go ahead in and start wrapping up the paperwork. And tell Shea I said hi.”
Oliver lifts his chin at me. “Will do. And that reminds me, she wants to have everyone over for dinner next weekend. Kind of a potluck sort of thing. But you can just bring beer. Or pizza. Don’t worry about doing anything fancy.”
With a quick chin lift in response, I reply, “Sounds good. Just let me know the time and I’ll be there.”
Then I toss the key fob to Oliver and turn to get out of the car, leaving it running so he doesn’t freeze in the frigid January weather. “Have a good night. See you on Monday.”
As I step out into the cold, a few flakes of white spot my dark uniform. My breath puffs out in large, silvery clouds. I shove my hands in my pockets to keep them warm as I stride across the parking lot and towards the entrance to the station.
With each step, my shoulders feel a little lighter as the tensions of the week begin to slide away. Not that it was a bad week—no deaths or violent crimes, thankfully—but being a police officer is far from a relaxing job.
At least I have two days of downtime before my next shift.
This weekend I have off, which still feels like a novelty after working strictly nights and weekends for the first few years of my career.
But as a six-year veteran of the force, now I have the luxury of every other weekend off and only the rare overnight shift if I’m covering for someone on vacation.
This weekend I’m thinking about heading up north and doing a winter hike, maybe up one of the High Peaks in the Adirondacks.
I only started winter hiking a few years ago, but I’ve found I really like it.
There’s just something about being at the summit, with almost no one around, looking out at a landscape of snow-capped mountains.
I won’t ask Oliver to come with me, since I’m sure he’ll be busy with Shea.
But Dave, the Sleepy Hollow Fire Marshall and one of my good friends, might like to go.
He’s in a serious relationship, but it’s still long distance, and I’m pretty sure he mentioned something about being on his own this weekend. So he might appreciate the company.
Even though my mind is occupied with thoughts about the weekend, my gaze is constantly surveying my surroundings.
It’s one of the things my dad always told me.
“A good cop is always observing. Cataloging things. Making note of anything that looks off. Sometimes the tiniest detail can make or break a case.”
So I’m always looking. Searching for those little things other people might not notice.
Like the slight bend in the handicapped parking sign, like someone backed into it.
The burned-out lightbulb in the lamp post at the far corner of the parking lot.
And the car parked in the row closest to the entrance, taillights and exhaust running, and the windows fogged over from the inside.
My pace slows as I approach the car, an older sedan with a deep key mark on the driver’s side door. Though there’s no actual evidence that this is a threat, my hand still moves towards the Glock holstered at my waist.
There’s no reason to assume an idling car means trouble.
There are plenty of reasons someone might be sitting in their car long enough to fog up the windows.
An important call they couldn’t delay until they got home.
A really interesting podcast. Or maybe it’s someone waiting to pick up one of the employees who works here.
Still. There’s a wormy feeling in my stomach, cold and slithery; the same sensation I’ve gotten before when I just knew something was wrong.
So with one hand resting on my gun, I slowly approach the car. The windows are too clouded to be able to clearly see the person inside, though they look to be on the smaller side, most likely a woman.
Not that being a woman means there can’t be trouble.
A flicker of a thought races through my head— call Oliver to come out and provide backup.
But really? Off a weird hunch and an idling car that probably means nothing?
No. I’m certain it’s fine. Setting my shoulders and straightening my posture, I rap on the driver’s side window in a quick, staccato rhythm.
As I wait for the driver to respond, my hand tightens around the handle of my gun.
Then the window rolls down, revealing a woman’s tear-stained face.
But not just any woman. Jessica. Jess .
She looks at me with swollen, bloodshot eyes. Wet strands of dark hair are stuck to her cheeks and forehead. Her chin wobbles as she says, “I’m sorry. Am I not supposed to park here?”
The alarm bells that started ringing as soon as I saw her car keep chiming, but now for a different reason.
I’d put money—lots of it—on Jess not being a threat.
Not sweet, quietly funny Jess, who never has a mean word to say about anyone.
Not Jess, who’s clearly uncomfortable talking to people, but always has a smile whenever we run into each other in town.
Who never fails to ask me about my job and hiking and the sci-fi movies I admitted liking during one particularly long conversation.
But something is still very wrong.
Why is she sitting in her car crying? Outside the police station, no less?
Gentling my voice, I reply, “No, you’re allowed to park here. I just saw the car all fogged up and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“Oh.” Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “God. This is so embarrassing. I should have just gone home. I just—” Her voice breaks. “I… I don’t know what to do.”
Shit. If this was any crying woman, I’d be concerned. But with it being someone I know, someone I like… my protective instincts come roaring forward.
“Jess, what happened?”
She shakes her head. “No, it’s nothing. I’ll… I’ll…” Trailing off, she hugs herself, shivering and looking smaller than I’ve ever seen her.
“Why don’t we go inside?” I offer. “We can talk in my?—”
“No. I don’t want to go in there.” Fresh tears spill down her cheeks. “They don’t want me there, anyway. ”
What?
That doesn’t make any sense.
But she’s crying. I’m not going to push her.
“How about Sleepless Nights?” I gesture with my chin towards the little coffee shop at the other end of the parking lot.
Having gone there a lot since I started working here, I know it’s open until ten PM, which gives us plenty of time to sit down and talk.
“I can’t,” Jessica says. “Not like this.” She gestures at her face, then swipes away a few tears.
Out of the blue, I’m struck by the wildest desire.
I want to take care of her.
I want to wipe away her tears. Help her out of the car and hug her until she stops crying. Find out who upset her and kick the shit out of them.
But obviously, I can’t do any of those things. So, instead, I just ask, “How about if we talk in the car? If you don’t mind me sitting in there with you? I mean, you know me, so you don’t have to worry…”
Jess lets out a short laugh. “I’m not worried, Kane. I know you wouldn’t do anything… inappropriate.”