Chapter 2 #2
Do fantasies about kissing Jess qualify as inappropriate?
I’ve never acted on them, but I’d be lying if I said I never wondered what it would be like to feel her full lips pressed to mine.
Especially that time I saw her at the Halloween Fest last year and she had just taken a sip of beer and had a touch of foam on her upper lip that was just calling to me to lick it off.
I didn’t. For the record. I just thought about it.
But that’s not important right now.
“It’s up to you,” I tell her. “If you want me to leave, I will. But I’d like to help, if I can. ”
Jess stares at me for a few long seconds before nodding. Then the doors make a telltale click and she says softly, “Okay. The door’s open.”
Once I get into the passenger seat, I turn towards her. The inside of the car is dim, lit only by the street lamp above us, but I’m struck all over again by just how pretty she is, even pink-eyed and face wet and flushed from crying.
Jess reminds me of one of those nymphs in the stories my mom used to read to me when I was little.
A wood nymph—slender, almost reed-like, with long, chestnut hair and eyes the color of the forest at sunset.
She’s gentle and quiet like the nymphs in the stories, too, but with a core of strength that can’t be broken.
Though it’s not my car, I rummage in the glove box until I find a small stack of napkins. Then I hand them over to Jess, and she takes them with a tiny, rueful smile. She wipes her face and nose before saying, “I probably should have thought of those sooner.”
“Nah.” I return her smile with a comforting one of my own. “Half the time, I can’t find anything in my car.”
Jess draws in a deep breath. On a heavy exhale, she says, “I’m really not sure if it’s even a good idea to tell you this.”
“Tell me what?”
Her gaze dips to her lap. “What happened tonight. The woman I talked to inside, she told me…” Trailing off, she looks at her lap again. Her teeth dig into her lower lip.
A weight settles in my stomach. I have a sinking feeling I’m not going to like her answer. “Told you what?”
“That I was wasting their time,” she replies in a low monotone. “That it’s a crime to make a false report. That if I keep pulling this… nonsense… I could end up with charges against me.”
“What?” I’m horrified. Who would say that to Jess? And why ?
Although I’ve been trained to always consider the possibility of guilt, even with someone who seems so clearly innocent, it’s hard for me to believe it.
Jess? Filing a false police report? The same Jess who insisted on giving back the dollar extra she got in change the last time I saw her at the Hungry Horseman? It doesn’t make sense.
“Who did you talk to?” I ask as I mentally run through the officers on duty today. “Officer Daniels? Or Officer LeFevre?”
“Neither.” Jess lifts her gaze from her lap to look at me. “I talked to Simone Wells. She’s the one who told me to leave.”
“Simone?” My voice rises in surprise. Simone’s a receptionist, not a cop, and shouldn't be tossing around accusations of crimes or telling a potential victim to leave. “ She said that?”
Jess nods. “After I told her what happened at my house, she accused me of making it up. To get attention, she said. Then she said I’d be arrested if I made a false police report. That I should leave before I get myself in even more trouble.”
My jaw clenches as a rush of hot anger hits me. “She has no authority to tell you that, Jess. Only an officer can talk about possible charges. And she definitely has no right to tell you to leave the station.”
“I know.” It’s quiet. Defeated. “But I thought… she’d te ll everyone I was lying. Or she’d make something up about me. It just seemed easier to leave.”
“Easier?”
She sighs. “You wouldn’t understand. People… they don’t believe me. And after the last couple of times I called the police and they turned me away?—”
“What?” My head jerks back in surprise. “You called before? About what? Are you saying no one responded? Did you call 911? Who did you speak with?”
Her eyes widen. Belatedly, I realize I probably shouldn’t have fired questions at Jess like we’re in an interrogation. Gentling my voice, I add, “Sorry. Let’s try that again. What happened?”
Jess hesitates, long enough for me to think she’s not going to answer.
Then she sighs again and says, “The first time I called was two months ago. I spotted footprints around my house. Big ones, like a man’s shoe. There were some by the windows, like someone was looking inside.”
My muscles tense. “And?”
“That time I just called the station, since I didn’t think it was an emergency. But the officer who came by told me it was nothing. He said it was probably just someone working for the utility company.”
“Which officer?”
Jess flushes. “I don’t want to cause any trouble.”
Rather than press her, I decide to look up the police report on my own. “It’s fine,” I tell her. “What happened after that?”
“I started getting some… unsettling mail. Envelopes with no return address. And inside, there were photos. Of me. ”
I nearly crack a molar from gritting my teeth so hard. “Pictures of you ?”
“Yeah. Some were old photos they must have found online. Ones from back when I was in high school. And then some… candid shots. Of me walking into work. Or the grocery store.”
It’s a struggle to keep my tone even. “And you reported this?”
Jess lifts her chin. “Of course I did. I’m not stupid.”
“I know you’re not,” I soothe. “I’m just trying to figure all this out.” Spotting her trembling hands in her lap, I’m hit by that instinctive desire to comfort her again.
“The officer—the same one who talked to me about the footsteps—told me the photos weren’t enough evidence. And…” She pauses. Takes a deep breath. “He said I could have faked it. Printed out the photos and mailed them to myself.”
“The fuck ?”
Jess startles at my rough curse. Quickly, I amend, “I’m not upset with you. But what you said happened is extremely unprofessional. No officer should treat you like that. And I’m going to look into this. Make sure the person behind?—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “You don’t understand. It’ll just make things worse.”
“Worse than getting threatening mail? Worse than footprints outside your house? Jess. This needs to be dealt with. We can’t have people working for the department who treat innocent victims this way.”
Jess meets my gaze, hesitation warring with a cautious hope. Then she says, “It did get worse, Kane. Tonight was…” She shudders. “I don’t know what to do. ”
“What happened tonight?”
I thought I was already angry. Already concerned.
But as Jess explains her unsettling discoveries, my concern turns to outright worry.
Someone was inside her house. Could have still been inside when Jess got home. Had things gone differently, she could have been seriously hurt instead of just scared. She could have been assaulted. Could have been?—
Shit. And Simone had the nerve to turn Jess away?
Anger is bubbling inside me. It’s a struggle not to jump out of the car and race inside to yell at Simone right now. To call the chief and report her. Insist on having Simone suspended, if not outright fired.
But I can do that later.
Right now, I have a very shaken and still-teary Jess sitting beside me, and she needs to be my priority.
Once Jess finally winds down, she ends her story with, “Now I’m not sure what to do. What if they come back? I have a home security system, but it never went off. So I don’t know how this person got in. I know I need to go home, but…” Her voice drops to a whisper, “I’m scared, Kane.”
Fuck.
That same protectiveness comes rushing back, so intense it’s hard to breathe past it.
Rationally, I know I have to consider the possibility that Jess could be making this up.
But in my gut, I know she isn’t. It reminds me of another thing my dad used to tell me. “If your gut is telling you something, listen to it. Still search for the evidence to back it up, but never ignore what your instincts are telling you.”
Right now, my instincts are telling me to believe her.
And before I can stop myself, I reach over to cover her hand with mine. Her skin is chilled but soft as satin. As I touch her, a tiny spark zips up my arm. My chest twinges.
Her surprised eyes meet mine. But she doesn’t pull her hand away.
Should I? Probably.
Will I? Not yet. Not when this feels so right.
“We’re going to figure this out,” I tell her.
Hope lightens her gaze for a moment before fading. “How?”
“First, I’m going to your house with you. I want to see everything.”
Jess frowns. “You won’t be able to tell things are different. I don’t have proof. It’s not like I took pictures inside my house. So you wouldn’t know that the chair used to be on the other side of the couch. Or that I used to have a bowl of fruit in the kitchen. It’s just my word against?—”
“I believe you.” Though I know I shouldn’t, I can’t resist giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “I believe you, Jess. All of it. And I’m furious that no one has helped you until now. That’s not how things are supposed to work.”
Jess starts to say something, but stops herself. Her brows wing into a worried V. “But… what should I do about my house? If my security isn’t working…”
“Do you have someone you can stay with? For tonight at least, so we can get your security system checked out. Possibly upgraded. ”
Or definitely upgraded. Because I’m not letting Jess go back there alone until I’m satisfied it’s completely safe.
“No,” she replies quietly. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Oh.
I can’t remember the last time I saw this much sorrow in someone’s eyes. And my gut—screw that, my heart—is screaming at me to hold her.
But I can’t. I shouldn’t. It’s not my place.
Jess glances at the clock on the dashboard. “Shoot. I’m sorry. You must have other things to deal with right now.”
“I don’t, Jess.” I give her hand another quick squeeze.
“The only thing I care about doing right now is making sure you’re okay.
Making sure you’re safe. So here’s what I’m going to do.
I’m going to your house. I’m taking photos.
I’ll loop Oliver, my partner, in on this.
And tonight, once we’ve gone through everything, I’m bringing you to a hotel to stay.
Tomorrow, we’ll make sure your security system is in order.
Upgrade anything we need to. And I am following up on this.
You’re not getting brushed aside again.”
She stares at me for a moment, her expression unreadable. Emotion works in her eyes.
As I wait for her response, I begin to second guess myself. Was I too pushy? Overbearing, like my mom accuses me of being whenever I go to visit her?
Maybe I am a little overbearing. But it’s just because I want to make sure the people I care about are safe.
“Okay.” Jess gives me a wobbly smile. “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind at all. I want to do this.”
And as I watch the relief spread across her face, I get that twinge in my chest again .
I could say this is strictly professional concern.
But deep down, I know I’d be lying.