Thursday, December 22 #3
A police cruiser pulled into the driveway, drawing her gaze to the window.
When Garrett opened the door, Officer Wynkowski gave him a suspicious look.
The police always arrive before homicide investigators.
Garrett informed the officer of the nature of the crime and stated that he was a friend of the homeowner.
Was he really a friend? Spotting Angelica, the officer winked at him.
Not that kind of friend. Yet he’d be open to delving into that arrangement.
Angelica remained glued to her chair, her vacant eyes fixed on nothing, both while the officer was there and after he left.
She looked more like a startled teenager than an alluring woman.
The fact that he couldn’t ease her burdens gnawed at him.
He sucked with emotions—his own and women’s—and offering comfort and healing weren’t his strengths.
He spent hours in the morgue with corpses, and somewhere along the way, he traded the living for the dead.
But watching her was getting neither of them anywhere. As a courtesy, his “to-do” list included one more pressing item.
Garrett sheepishly asked, “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to go back into your bedroom. You can’t sleep in there the way it is. Your mattresses are on the floor.”
Angelica let out a weary sigh. “I guess I should go with you. Sitting here isn’t solving anything.”
Garrett felt awkward as he followed her back into the room. He’d been in ladies’ bedrooms before, but he wasn’t a ladies’ man—not her boyfriend’s type.
While sixteen-year-old boys started fires in the back seats of cars, he lit campfires as an Eagle Scout.
That skill left him unprepared to navigate the finer things in life.
Now he’s in Angelica’s bedroom, and it’s to move the mattress.
He wanted to move the mattress, all right, but in a very different way.
Forget that she isn’t getting any breaks; he isn’t, either.
Focus! With Angelica in the room, Garrett must remain focused.
Focused as he stepped over her delicate lingerie on the floor.
Focused as he picked up the satin bedding in a heap on the carpet.
He would straighten the damn mattresses and get the hell out of there.
This wasn’t helping his psyche or anything else that ailed him. And much ailed him.
In spite of his intentions, he couldn’t keep his eyes off Angelica. How could he not glance her way in the middle of her boudoir? Plus, the scent of that damn perfume teased his senses. This was a slow death.
After fixing everything that was materially wrong in the room, he paused in the doorway, ready to make a quick exit.
“I’m heading out now, Angelica. The house is secure, and you’ll be fine for the night,” Garrett reassured her as his collar soaked up his sweat. “I’ll stop by tomorrow evening to check on you. All you need to do is lock the door behind me.”
Angelica suddenly had those ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ eyes again, looking as frightened as she had on the side of the road. A blouse, soon to be on a hanger, slipped from her fingertips and fell at her feet.
“Please, don’t leave me … Don’t leave, Garrett. I … I can’t stay here alone,” she quivered.
Her reaction caught him off guard. Didn’t see it coming.
What was he supposed to do? The hell with his feelings and discomfort; Angelica was terrified.
Could he blame her? Her violent, revenge-obsessed attacker was at large, and she lived down a dark, secluded country road, with her door broken.
None of that suggested safety or security.
“Is there anyone who can stay with you?”
She bit her lip and shook her head.
Garrett rubbed the back of his neck and blurted, “I’m going into work late tomorrow. If that’ll ease your fears, I’ll stay in my car and watch your house all night.”
Pent-up teardrops rushed to her eyes, and with no room in the inn, they fled and trickled down her cheeks. “Please stay with me,” she begged. “What if Matt comes back?”
Despite all her sensuality, there was more than a niggling concern in the back of his mind.
“Angelica, I can’t stay in your house. I’m a detective,” he said, his words spilling out at the speed of wine from an overturned bottle as he raked his fingers through his hair. “I’ll be right outside. You have nothing to worry about. I promise no one will harm you.”
Angelica flopped down on her bed, tears streaming from her eyes like Old Faithful. She may be anxious, but he was even more so for several reasons, including alarming statistics about repeat domestic violence offenders.
Garrett sat beside her and draped his arm over her shoulder. He deliberated for a few seconds before choosing the only option that would satisfy them both.
“Okay, I’ll stay here.” And guard the fort, slay the dragons, and save the damsel in distress. But who will rescue him?
Many hours later, Angelica went to her room, while Garrett settled in for the night on her sofa with a spare pillow, a blanket, and her cat.