Terri Austin - Diners, Dives & Dead Ends

Speak of the hardass, five minutes later he walked into the room. My life just kept getting better and better.

He hooked his thumbs in his belt. “Well, Miss Strickland. Seems you can’t stay out of trouble.” He gazed briefly at Roxy before staring me down, like if he looked at me hard enough, I’d confess all my sins.

Roxy lowered her phone and snorted. “Yeah, like it was her fault.”

“Have any ideas on who would do that, Miss Strickland?”

Yeah, I could come up with a few names, and his just leaped to the top of the queue. “No. I don’t.”

He raised one brow and continued to stare.

“You know what?” I said. “I don’t have the energy to argue with you today, so can I just get the report?”

“Come with me.”

Roxy rolled her eyes and went back to texting, while I followed him to his corner cubicle.

He typed something into the computer and grabbed a piece of paper from his copier. “Read this over, make sure all the information is correct.”

I read through everything I had told the police the night before. “It is.” I hitched my bag up on my shoulder and turned to leave.

“Miss Strickland.”

I faced him.

“It seems like large pieces are missing from your story. Is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

I peered at the ceiling, my brow furrowed as I pretended to think. Then I looked back at him with a blank expression. “Nope.” My eyes lowered and snagged on a gold pen sitting on his desk blotter. I’d been seeing a lot of those lately.

I marched forward and grabbed it. “Where did you get this?”

He frowned. “Why?”

I rolled the pen in my fingers. Dane and Manny. They both had pens just like this one.

“Miss Strickland?”

He stared at me like I’d lost my shit. Maybe I had, because I was starting to think everything was a conspiracy. I dropped the pen on the desk and left his cubicle. I couldn’t even think straight. I was a paranoid, frazzled mess.

I made it to the front of the building without getting lost this time. Roxy saw me and hopped up, following me outside.

Before I could cross the street to my car, someone called my name. I turned around and saw Dane in front of the City Hall. With a briefcase in one hand and a phone in the other, he jogged toward us.

“My God, Rose, I just got a call from Andre. He says someone broke into your apartment.”

I hadn’t seen Dane since the other morning in the diner. And my conversation with Roxy had me second guessing his motives about helping me. Was he one of Sullivan’s lackeys sent to spy on me?

“Yeah,” Roxy said, “ someone trashed everything she owns.”

“Are you all right?” Dane frowned, little lines creased his forehead.

“Yeah. I was out when it happened.”

His blue gaze scanned me. Then he suddenly dropped his briefcase pulled me to him, buried his face in my hair. “What if you had been home? You could have been hurt. God, you could have been killed.”

“I’m going to go sit in the car, now,” Roxy said.

He pulled back and cupped my cheek with his palm. “Rose.”

My heart skipped two beats. I wanted to believe he was genuinely concerned for me, and not there because of Sullivan. “I’m fine.” I bit my lip as he continued to scrutinize me. “Really, Dane, I’m okay.”

He hugged me again. My arms crept around his waist and hugged back. He tucked my head under his chin, stroking my hair. It felt foreign to be comforted by someone. It felt…good.

When we pulled away, I wiped at my eyes, and did that little not-a-real-laugh-just-an-awkward-pseudo-laugh. “So,” I said, staring at the white gazebo in the park across the street. The afternoon light was fading, leaving orange and pink streaks across the sky.

Dane cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Who do you think did this?”

My eyes met his. “I think it may have been Sullivan.”

“Who the hell is Sullivan?” His look of angry confusion seemed real. If Dane was in collusion with Sullivan, then I was my parents’ favorite daughter. Or he was an amazing actor. In that moment, a weight lifted off my shoulders and I believed Dane was for real.

“Who is Sullivan?” His mouth twisted into a frown, and there wasn’t a hint of dimple in sight.

“Oh, um, the guy who broke into my apartment. You know, BJ.”

“You know his real name?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you seen him again?”

Should I lie and have a guilty conscience or tell the truth and let Dane drag me back to see Officer Hardass? “No, I just figured it out.” I waved my hand like it was no big deal. But Dane was a better lawyer than I was a liar.

“Like hell. You have seen him again. When? Where?”

“Calm down. I found his phone number, okay? That’s how I know his name.” I looked him right in the eye as I said it. It was the truth. Just not all of it.

“Where did you find his phone number?”

I huffed in exaggerated annoyance. “I’m not on the witness stand here. I’ve been through a horrible experience and you’re questioning me like Officer Thomas did. What the hell?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried.”

“Okay.”

“Look at me,” he said. “Things are getting dangerous. You can’t go around asking any more questions. This Sullivan guy did this because you identified him. Think of yourself, of your own safety. Let the police find Axton.”

He looked so concerned, so sincere. “You may be right, but the police aren’t as interested in Axton as they should be.”

“They’ll find him.” He rubbed my arm with one hand. “Try not to worry.”

“Sure.” I nodded, absently. I wanted to believe him, I just didn’t.

Dane smiled. “Good. Now until the police find Axton, maybe you should stay with your parents or your sister.”

“That’s an idea.”

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight, hmm?”

I put my hand on his chest. “I can’t.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow?”

I realized Dane was the type of person who heard what he wanted to hear. And he wanted to hear I would stop searching for Ax so he didn’t have to worry about me.

I felt a twinge of sadness as I made my way to the car.

When I got home, I went to the bathroom, and after washing my hands, realized I didn’t have any towels to wipe my hands on. I held up my dripping fingers and heard a ping at my window. Then another. I pulled the curtains aside and saw Kevin standing in the side yard beneath my window. A yellow halo from streetlight bathed him in a florescent glow and he held a toaster-sized CD player above his head.

“Oh, dear Lord, why me?”

“Rose,” Kevin called.

I unlocked and opened the window. “What are you doing?”

He pushed a button on the CD player. A TurkeyJerk song blared. “Hang on. That’s the wrong song.” He fiddled with the buttons some more.

I grabbed a brand new used sweatshirt and pulled it on as I hustled out of my apartment and down the stairs, wiping my hands on the seat of my pants. By the time I made it outside, Kevin had another song going. Once again, he raised the CD player over his head.

“This is just like the movies and this song represents how I feel about you.” Bret Michaels sang about roses and thorns. I rolled my eyes so hard it actually hurt.

“Turn it off,” I yelled over the music.

“Huh?”

Kevin was much taller than me, but nevertheless, after a little scuffling, I pried the player out of his hands and pushed the power button. “What is wrong with you?” I asked.

“I’m crazy in love with you. I got a new tattoo to prove it.” He lifted up his t-shirt. He’d gotten a rose inked over his left pec. Blood dripped from the thorn.