Chapter 4
Chapter four
Rose
“You be a good boy while I’m gone.” Juno stares up at me with the most pathetic look on his face while I rub his ears. As soon as I grabbed my purse, he knew I was leaving. Then the puppy-dog eyes started.
I give him a sad smile before I touch up my red lipstick, grab my keys and purse, and head out the door.
I’m a complete wreck. My hands won’t stop shaking as I approach my car.
I try to convince myself to stay calm, to keep breathing, but my thoughts won’t listen.
Images of Mom flash in my mind. Her laugh, her perfume, the way she’d hum when she was cooking.
Each memory feels like a knife twisting deeper.
As I sink into the driver’s seat, my phone chimes. I swipe the screen, expecting a text, but it’s a weather alert instead.
Severe storms approaching. Take shelter immediately.
My stomach dips. I hate storms. The forecast is calling for one of the worst systems to hit this part of Ohio in decades. Torrential rain, dangerous winds, the works. And it’s supposed to last for hours.
Well, the weather will match my mood, so there’s that.
With my thoughts a chaotic jumble, I drive to the precinct. A clap of thunder off in the distance catches my attention. Approaching the red light, I peer out the windshield; the sky fills my vision. The distant, dark clouds look threatening. I have to get there sooner rather than later.
As I wait at a red light, my phone chimes again. This time, it’s a text.
From Niko.
Seriously? I don’t need anymore anxiety today. And communicating with my ex will without a doubt give me anxiety.
Niko: Hey. I heard about your mom. You okay?
“Really?” I toss my phone onto the console, not ready to reply yet. And it’s not that I don’t still have some lingering feelings for him. I do.
I probably always will. Everything that went down is weird because I didn’t get any closure. And when that happens, the leftover emotions scab over, leaving visible scars.
But I know that scar has to fade in order to move on.
I mean, it's sweet that he's asking about my mom. I'm sure he saw it on the news. I guess replying wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Right?
Okay, fine! The light’s still red, so I shoot out my reply.
Me: Hi. Yes, it’s been scary. I’m so worried about my mom. Thank you for reaching out. On my way to meet with the head detective now. Hopefully, he has some answers.
HONK!
Startled, I peek at the stoplight, and it’s green. I wave a signal of apology to the car behind me as I roll forward, tossing my phone. His reply chimes in, but now I’m pulling into the parking lot and my stomach immediately starts churning.
I read his text.
Niko: If you need anything, let me know. I miss you, Rose.
My eye roll is so big it probably made a noise. He misses me? Seriously? Why is he saying this to me now? What does he expect me to say? ‘I miss you too’? Because, in all honesty, I do miss him.
But I’m not sure if I miss him or everything that comes with being in a relationship. The closeness, the intimacy. Having someone else in your corner. No matter the cost to them.
Yep, that’s it. Not the cheater.
Shaking the thoughts away, I retrieve my purse from the passenger seat. I’m not doing this with him again. And like Rachel’s mom said on Friends, ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater.'
With the decision made, I grab my phone and throw it into my crossbody, ignoring his text. I’ll reply later. Pulling down the visor, I double-check my lipstick one last time.
Vomit sits at the base of my stomach as I grip the door handle and stare ahead at the entrance.
Information about my mom is inside that building.
“As I live and breathe. If it isn’t Rose Sheridan, here. In my precinct. Again.”
Upon hearing my name on his tongue, all raspy and deep like I remember, I jolt out of the chair.
Cal is leaning against the doorway, arms linked over his chest, ankles crossed, dressed in all black like he always is.
That used to annoy me. People who only wear black all the time.
But Cal, wearing nothing but black, turns my insides out.
And here he is one year later, black shirt, black tie, black jeans, and black boots.
Promising to be the dark knight I know he is.
The only color on him is the brown leather shoulder holster strapped to his muscles.
Plus, he is staring at me like he wants to kill me. I’m sure he hates me. Well, the feeling is mutual, sir.
I square my shoulders, ready for the standoff.
“Cal,” is all the greeting I’m willing to offer him.
“You remembered me. I’m flattered, truly,” I say mockingly as I raise my hand to my chest. My heart may have skipped a beat when I saw him, but his eyes narrowed into slits and his nostrils flared.
Full of what, I don’t know. Anger? It’s like we’ve snapped right back to where we left off a year ago.
Fantastic.
He looks away and drags a hand over the not-quite-five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. During our time together, I couldn’t read this man. Hot one minute. Ice-cold the next. Apparently, he’s still a walking mystery novel with no final chapter.
He pushes off the doorframe and starts down the hallway without looking back, and—lucky me—I trail after him.
A low chuckle slips out of him. “Did you really think I’d forget? You were the bane of my existence for a month when you shadowed us for your book.”
“Bane of your existence? Little dramatic, don’t you think?” And no mention of the best date I ever had that ended … badly. He rounds a corner, which opens up into another hallway. I continue to follow him through the maze, the hustle and bustle of a police station charges along around us.
He ignores my question. “Why are you following me?”
“Dennison didn’t tell you?”
“It’s Denny.”
“Denny?” Now I’m confused. “Who’s Denny?”
“You know Richard Dennison. Or Denny. It’s his nickname around here.”
I roll my eyes. Okay, fine, whatever the man’s name is. His long tree-trunk legs are propelling him forward, and I’m practically running to keep up with him. “You’re assigned to my mother’s case.”
He abruptly stops, and I collide with a wall of muscle that feels like steel. He spins on his heels to face me, and I stumble back a step. But it’s his face that’s the same as it was one year ago. Still rugged, chiseled, and with a jaw that could cut glass. “Yes, I know. Diane Sheridan.”
At the sound of my mom’s name, I freeze. Hearing it said out loud, for whatever reason, means she still exists. Hopefully, alive. My lips press together and tremble slightly.
He notices.
That hard exterior shell cracks slightly, and the toughness in his face eases. “I’m sorry you’re going through this.”
I nod, then look down at my feet, since seeing his concern is messing with my head.
My emotions are all over the place right now.
“Thank you,” I drag in a long, stabilizing breath, still refusing to meet his eyes.
“Anyway, Dennison … Sorry, Denny, is allowing me to shadow you while you are working the case. Well, actually, correction, I demanded it.”
“Of course you did,” he barks out, then swivels and treks down the hall. I’m hot on his trail.
“I promise to stay out of your way.”
“Unlikely.”
“You won’t hear a peep out of me.”
“Heard that once before.”
We’re standing at the threshold of his office as he shifts to face me. But not before he briefly roams down my body and back up.
Seriously, if I’d blinked, I would have missed it. But I didn’t. “Go ask him yourself. He called me an hour ago and asked me to come down because they found something that they think might be Mom’s.” Those last few words come out strained, barely audible, as I squint away.
When I get the nerve to look back up at him, his eyes have grown tender, and he’s inched closer, and my pulse trips over itself.
I can’t let my guard down, though. Especially with him. “I assumed you knew about all of this. That’s how Denny made it sound when he called me.”
He grunts as his face becomes stone again.
“Denny isn’t here. He got pulled away for an emergency meeting involving a different case, but will be back.
Stay here. I’m going to call him and straighten this out.
And by that I mean, a snowball’s chance in hell this is going to happen.
” He marches backward and slams the door in my face.
Literally in my face. The wood hit my nose.
I rub it. “Ouch.” Well, that felt like the Cal I knew. And what was that almost affectionate look he gave me?
I sit on one of the chairs lined up against the wall. Rubbing my sweaty palms down my jeans, I glance at the door. Should I listen? I shouldn’t. Right?
Yes, it’s wrong. Not cool.
My eyes drift to the ceiling as my knee does a nervous dance.
Ugh!
“Forget it. I have to know.” I leap up and press my ear against the cheap wood.
Cal isn’t happy as his deep voice carries through the door. Muffled but angry.
“There is no way, Denny. Her being here around me made my life hell when she shadowed us. You know what that did to me. You remember, right?”
What did I do? I mean, yeah, we argued like cats and dogs after the almost kiss, but I didn’t think it was that bad.
A ‘mm-hmm’ follows a few ‘uh-huhs.’ Then … “Denny, I can’t. Please, why does she have to shadow me for this? Why?” Another stretch of silence. “Of course she was being pushy.”
Pushy?! Excuse me! I need to find my mom. And why do I have to shadow? Ummm … because she’s my mom, you idiot. And is spending time with me that bad?
“Fine. But you owe me. It took me months to get over—” A long pause. “I know. I know. I tried. Things are going well. But now—”
Okay, now I’m confused. What did he have to get over? And he tried what, exactly?
He sighs. “I won’t guarantee this isn’t going to end in disaster, but if you think it’s a good idea, I’ll do it.” He sounds so defeated.
Well, geez, Cal. Sorry that my mom’s disappearance is an inconvenience to you.