CHAPTER 13
Dylan
Well, shit.
I pulled back rapidly from Zoe, but who was I kidding? Our close bodies couldn’t possibly be mistaken for two people looking at a viewing room, which was empty, or anything else defensibly innocent. Tom had already seen enough to get a very full picture of what was going on between us. Which meant I was pretty fucking screwed.
No one was supposed to be here tonight. I know, because I did my due diligence. Not because I was anticipating hooking up with Zoe, but… well, I’ll find a better excuse later. In any case, it was past operational hours, and in a sleepy town like Fallow Springs, officers stay ‘on call,’ which means they can go home and only get called if there’s an emergency. And there’s never an emergency.
Which begged the fucking question — what was Tom doing here?
“Dylan,” the older man addressed me, before I could launch a barrage of questions myself. “What’s going on?”
I gulped. “I was leading Zoe through the lineup, like I told you about.”
“I thought that was scheduled for tomorrow morning. When the building was open,” he added to underscore his meaning.
I didn’t miss the implication, but I also wasn’t taking the bait. “Well, I thought it might be more convenient for her to do it after bakery hours, considering how much work it’s going to take for her to get the place back in shape. I was just trying be of assistance.”
His brows raised, and I knew he’d seen through the gambit. Whatever position Zoe and I had been in when that door began to open, we hadn’t broken free of it fast enough. My head drained of all words that weren’t filthy curses.
“Ma’am,” Tom said, turning to address Zoe. “Officer Robertson and I have more work to do on your case. Work we can’t do while you’re here.” That last sentence was unabashedly pointed, and if I hadn’t been so embarrassed, I might have fought back.
“Sure, of course, I understand,” she rushed to get out.
“Okay,” he returned. “Then you can wait out in the lobby. You seem to be pretty familiar with… the building… so I assume you’ll manage to find your way back there.”
“M-hmm, yes sir, absolutely sir. I’ll be on my way.” She bobbed her head up and down, and without further ado, crammed past me, past Tom and out into the hallway. My body ached with regret.
A moment of silence passed as Tom and I waited for her to be out of earshot. Her footsteps quickly growing quieter and quieter. Finally, I took a few paces out of the viewing room, and shut the door behind me. We were alone in the hallway, and I could see Tom trying to modulate his attitude into something more professional, less parental.
“Just say it,” I blurted out.
“Say what?” Tom asked, playing dumb — not like him.
“Whatever you’re going to say about Zoe, and this whole, whole… situation. Spit it out.”
Another beat, and he replied, “Kid, I’m happy to see that you’re even considering other women.”
“Who said I’m considering them?” Now I was playing dumb. Why couldn’t we just talk about this like grown men? Although I was pleased he wasn’t going for the work lecture just yet.
He inclined his head to me, and from beneath those heavy lids shot out a look that suggested it would be unwise to trifle with him.
“Like I said,” he continued, “I’m happy for you. But you know better than to get involved with a person whose case you’re working on. It doesn’t end well.”
“Tom—”
“And I know you know better because I taught you, and I’m the best.”
I smiled a little at his weak joke. It didn’t make the medicine any easier to swallow.
“It’s just,” I faltered, “it’s been so long. I miss… her… and I miss company, I miss love, I miss a fellow parent. I can’t stand being alone for much longer. And Zoe, I mean if you got to know her, Tom, you’d adore her. She’s an old soul, and sure she comes from the city, but she’s salt of the earth. You know?”
“I know, kid. Love ain’t easy. Don’t make it worth missing, but it’s a bumpy ride. And anybody else, Dylan, any other woman would kill to have you. It just can’t be this one.”
“Why not?” I pressed. “What if she’s the only I want?”
“It can’t be her,” he said quietly, “because while it’s a generally bad idea to date someone whose case you’re assigned to, it’s an especially bad idea to get involved with a potential suspect.”
“What?!” I started back, bumping my wide shoulders into the door frame. I was shocked. Did I hear that correctly? No, it couldn’t be, I must be losing my mind. That was the only rational explanation. It was impossible, no matter which way you sliced it. Zoe? A suspect? Never. I wanted to say, or scream, all these thoughts, but what came out was only a repetition of my first exclamation.
“Uh, what?”
Tom’s thumbs slid through his belt loops, and he let out a deep, world-weary sigh.
“Yeah, kid,” he said, chewing the words as if they were tobacco. “‘Course she is. Use your head. A woman with piles of debt is robbed, thereby triggering insurance coverage? Don’t that sound a mite suspicious to you? We gotta at least investigate.”
“But she’s innocent,” I declare with no trace of doubt. “She was with us the entire day and what happened with us arresting her could not have been planned. Being pulled over for a broken brake light and then an expired license doesn’t happen every day. There is no way she could have snuck off in the middle of all this and robbed her own place. Let’s face it, most people don’t commit crimes while they are with the police.”
“Dylan, she might have had an accomplice. Someone willing to do the crime for a slice of the proverbial pie. How well do you know this woman? You don’t know that she’s innocent, Dylan.”
“Fine,” I replied, huffier than usual. “We’ll investigate her. Are you satisfied?”
“That’s the spirit.” He unhooked his thumbs and rocked back on his heels. “I best be headin’ home now, but you hang back and finish up the paperwork for the lineup.” Pause. “Which, incidentally, is in no way protocol.”
“I know, sir.” It pained me to admit it, but he was dead right on every count. Sometimes debating with Tom felt like debating a mountain — impossible and frustrating. Though Zoe was innocent, and I was ready to go toe to toe with him on that count for days if necessary.
“I’ll be seein’ you,” he said with the customary tip of his hat — which he never took off, even after work hours. With that, Tom exited the hallway, and based on the echo of a slamming door, the building. I was left in silence, prey to my own thoughts, which threatened to eat me alive.
It was gonna be a late night. The filing associated with calling a lineup was immense, and I groaned internally at the thought of putting pen to paper. I trudged to my desk, plopped into the seat, and twiddled my thumbs. Time to call my mother, who I knew full well would not be pleased.
I picked up the landline, punched the speed dial, and rang my mom. She picked up in less than two rings, she probably recognized the station’s number better than I did.
“You gonna be late?” she asked without hesitation. Poor Ma, she’d learned the drill awful fast.
“Yeah. My own fault. I did something a little, um, stupid.”
“Okay,” she returned. “You’ll tell me when you get home.”
How would I explain that I’d broken procedure to, if I was being honest, potentially impress a young woman who I couldn’t possibly get involved with? I shelved this worry, deciding it was a problem for Future Me. Best of luck to that sorry son of a gun.
“Will do, Mom. Could you put Danny on the line?”
“Sure, just wait a sec.”
I heard her drop the receiver, and call out, ‘Danny!’ The sound of little feet running — well, stumbling — full tilt across wooden floors was audible.
A little puff of breath came across the phone, breath intermingled with static. “Dada?” it queried.
“Hey, Danny boy,” I said with a tired smile I knew he couldn’t see, but hopefully could hear coloring my voice. “Papa’s gonna be working late, so I won’t be home to tuck you in. But Grandma will give you a goodnight kiss at bedtime, and I’ll give you another whenever I get back.”
My son gurgled merrily, and my chest ached with love for every inch of his chubby body, for the thin hair that ringed his head. Fatherhood had repositioned my heart to beat outside of my own body.
Mom got back on the phone, and we said our ‘I love you’s’ and ‘good night’s.’ I turned back to my slogging work.
I was on page thirteen of a twenty-page form when my cell phone buzzed. It was a text from Zoe. Did this mean she’d saved my number from the other night? I was mildly flattered at what was, in truth, a rather unremarkable fact. This is normal, I told myself. You’re the officer on her case. Of course she’d keep your phone number.
Need coolant for radiator. Stuck at the gas station on Main. Could you please please bring some? Very desperate.
My mind raced as I thought over the text. Was I her new emergency contact? I wasn’t sure I was ready. And since when had she got her car back? Yet another text.
Got car from impound. Guys didn’t take care of it. Sensitive old car. Station store closed. Plz bring coolant.
Well, fuck. If Zoe said jump, I’d damn well jump.