Chapter Eighteen

Ben

I sip my coffee as I drive around town.

The world is quiet and dark at this time of night. It’s one of my favorite rounds to make, especially when the fog is off the sea and the world is cast in an ethereal smoke. My imagination goes wild during times like that, but unlike in the military, it’s never a bad thing.

This town knows nothing compared to the outside world.

It may be dealing with theft at the moment, but this is small beans compared to the world beyond this safe little hamlet. I still can’t excuse it. The people here knew no crime, no violation, until that boat was stolen. Now they do.

And I’m the one to blame.

My cell rings, and I’m glad for the distraction. Maybe driving around on foggy nights isn’t so good for my psyche after all. I press the button to answer.

“This is Ben. What’s up?”

“Ben. We have a call for vandalism. Apparently, there’s been a break-in down by the coast.”

Shit. Does this garbage have to happen as I take the helm here? And when I’m off-duty. A night time drive was supposed to give me time to think.

James’s voice is terse, but given the subject matter, that’s understandable. After our fight over Skippy, he cooled off and mumbled some kind of apology. It’s been a tenuous working situation ever since, but at least he’s showing up and doing the job.

If he wants to replace me someday, he has to at least do that much.

“What the address? I’ll go check it out.”

As he reads the address to me, I type it into my navigator to see the location. I tap the screen and an arrow appears, ready to guide me.

“Got it. I’ll let you know if I need backup.”

“You do that,” he says, then hangs up.

I zoom out to get a general idea of where this place is. When I look at the expanded map, my blood turns cold.

It’s Naomi’s house.

I flash my lights on and slam down my foot on the gas pedal. With no one on the streets, it’s easy enough to fly to the oceanfront.

Is Naomi OK? Is she safe?

An image of her mangled dead body flashes across my mind, and I brush it aside. This isn’t Somalia. People aren’t automatically dead when you hear about a break-in here.

I have to remember that, or I’m going to explode before I even get there.

I pull my car into the restaurant parking lot. I turn off the ignition and step out into the dark night. Streetlights are spread out wide along the coast, providing tiny islands of illumination in the inky black darkness, the ocean only present by the sound of lapping waves.

I run past the restaurant doors until I reach Naomi’s, and I slam my fist against the portal.

“Sheriff, open up,” I shout.

If there is someone still in there, I can do my best to intimidate. This works much like it does in the wild, where the largest, most powerful animal wins out, or can be intimidated by a louder animal… perhaps one carrying a gun.

I pat my holster. My weapon is tucked away, but I can sling it out in a second if need be. I’m about to break down the door when it swings open. Naomi stands there, clad in a tank top and sweat pants with a spooked expression. Her arms are crossed around her stomach, like she’s trying to hold herself together from her middle.

“Where is he?” I ask.

I step inside, my eyes surveying the apartment. I glance over every nook and cranny in the hallway, my hand dangling over my weapon as I stalk further inward. When I reach the living room, I notice the broken glass on the floor and Katie sitting in a ball with her feet up on the couch. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, and she’s staring at me with wide, frightened blue eyes.

“Ben. Fancy meeting you here.”

Is she trying to be funny right now? “What happened here? Is there an immediate threat?”

“You think if there was a threat we’d be opening the door?” Naomi asks. She’s entered the room, and there’s a mix of anger in her eyes with the fear now. All it does is ramp up my own.

“I would hope you’d answer the door for the person responsible for saving your life.”

“I would, too. Could you tell me where that person is?”

Smartass. I’m in no mood for this. I take a breath to steady my anger, and when I focus back on Naomi, I’m seeing a little less red. “Why don’t we start at the beginning? What happened?”

Naomi points to the window, and my gaze follows. Shards of glass dangle from the frames. What isn’t dangling is still on the floor, and behind the couch, untouched, lies a worn red brick.

When I look back to Naomi, I’ve got questions. “Do you have any idea who did this?”

“According to you, I probably did it to myself.”

She’s being impossible. It’s not helping my blood pressure. She could have been hurt. I’m clearly losing control over what’s happening in this town.

No. I am not going to let that happen.

Still, Naomi is being a pill, and I need information. She’ll have to be interviewed second. I turn to Katie and sit on the couch as I face her head on.

“Katie, can you give me a detailed report of what happened, including the timeframe?”

“Uh, sure,” Katie says. She looks from me to Naomi and back, and I know that Naomi has shared something about our little dalliance. Great. A woman who kisses and tells. Just what I need.

“We were sitting here watching a movie when the brick came through the window. That’s when we called you.”

“Any other identifying information? Did you look out the window to see who could have done it?” I whip out a notepad and pen from my top pocket, scribble down the details.

Katie shakes her head, and a wave of frustration washes over me.

“No, I don’t think that would have been safe, do you? Besides, I think we have an idea, don’t we? It’s Skippy coming after me again, isn’t it?”

I don’t want to scare her. The truth is it could be any number of perpetrators… all of whom her employer seems to be familiar with.

“We don’t know that for certain, and besides, they came after Naomi, not you. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, but I will be looking into it. There is nothing to fear.”

She looks at me with doubt in her eyes, and it destroys me. This woman has no faith in my ability to protect her, and if I were to look back at Naomi, I imagine I’d see the same expression there.

Then again, they did call. So that’s something.

“Do you have any other information at all?” I ask one more time.

Katie shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t. I want to go home and get some sleep. Am I allowed to go?”

Her question is loaded. Clearly, Naomi has shared more than bedroom details with this woman. She thinks I’m the kind of cop who will abuse my power, who has to grant permission. Awesome.

I nod. “Yes. Is it far?”

She shakes her head. “Just a few houses that way,” she says, nodding to the left.

“Would we be able to see that you got home OK from here?”

She hesitates, thinking. “Probably, I guess. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’d like it if you looked out for Naomi though.”

There are many things I could say to this. So. Fucking. Many. “I will. I’d also like confirmation that you are home and locked in safe until I can get more information. Can you get there and text us once you’re back?”

“Sure, absolutely.” She stands and walks around the broken glass toward the front door. Before she leaves, she hugs Naomi tight and whispers something in her ear. Naomi nods and rests her gaze on the door as her friend closes it behind her. She turns back to face me.

“You should walk her home. It’s safer.”

She’s got a point. I don’t want to leave Naomi alone, and I don’t want Katie to be unsafe. I nod and walk to the door. I open it and watch as Katie walks down the street. She turns a few cottages down and her door opens then closes. I turn back to Naomi.

“There. All safe. Anyway, it appears that the threat lies here,” I say.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything.” Her voice rises an octave.

She’s close to losing it. Her arms wrap back around her middle, and I walk toward her slowly, each step measured. I reach her and take one more step forward, so that we’re standing face to face, close enough to feel one another’s breath.

“Then why don’t you tell me, Naomi? Tell me what it is that I don’t know?”

When her eyes meet mine, sparks fly around us. She’s ready to do battle, and I couldn’t ask for a worthier adversary.

“Why should I tell you anything? I tell you the truth, and you throw it out the window because it doesn’t fit your own narrative.”

“You called me here because you needed help. So here I am, ready to help. I can’t help you if you don’t confide in me.”

“I can’t confide in you when you don’t believe me anyway!”

“Who threw that brick through your window?”

“I don’t know.”

Our voices are getting louder. I realize this, but I don’t care. I have been living in a world of frustration and anger for long enough, and I want some answers.

“That’s bullshit. You have to have some idea.”

“Even if I did, how can I tell you? How can I trust you?”

“Because I’m here now, and I’m on your side. How can you not see that?”

“How can you not see that I am in a complete mess of a situation that you’ve only made worse? You storm in here with accusation all over your face, then you expect me to give you answers that I don’t have. What do you want from me, Ben?”

She’s so angry, and yet so vulnerable. Her dark eyes flash in the subtle light of her apartment, and my body reacts to her in a way it shouldn’t.

I need her.

I take another step closer until my face hovers above hers. Every muscle in my body is tense. In the span of ten minutes, I’ve been scared, angry, and now my body is raging with pure lust. Her eyelashes flutter as she stares up at me, but she doesn’t back away.

“What do I need from you?” I whisper.

She shivers at my closeness, and I place a hand along her lower back. When she remains in place, it’s because she wants me too, and there’s something comforting in that knowledge. She desires me, perhaps against her own better judgement.

We’re two peas in a pod.

I lower my face until our lips are an inch apart, and then I whisper, “I need you to trust me.”