Carol Steward - Her Kind Of Hero

“Don’t hold your breath. She’s as elusive as the Eastsiders’ leader himself.” Luke knew there were few on the force who believed that the same woman was responsible for the majority of their tips. Thank goodness, his partner happened to share his theory.

Tilting his head from one side to the other, Luke hoped to shrug off the tension in his shoulders and the headache lurking behind his eyes. Tom was right, he needed to loosen up. Twelve years on the force was going to be the end of him if he didn’t find some way to enjoy life again.

He recalled the woman’s dark eyes and fair skin—recalled the quick recovery she’d made, slipping back into control in those brief seconds of their encounter. Tom’s suspicion that she was their informant crossed his mind again. No way. I’m just not that fortunate.

“Hey, Northrup. Hear your lady tipped you off again! One of these days, you’re going to have to introduce us. Bet she’s hot.” Laughter followed as the officers from the next shift made their way to the squad cars and loaded their gear.

Luke feigned a good-natured rebuttal, too tired to care if they were being funny or serious. “Better watch it, boys. A.C. is good, and she just may be after your job.”

The laughter stopped abruptly. Luke pulled his legs into the sports car and closed the door to the hoots and jeers that would follow his idle banter. Revving the engine, he backed out, then shifted into drive.

“Lord, help me find this lady, before it’s too late.”

* * *

Mrs. Maloney had already prepared Jon’s breakfast and done the dishes when Luke arrived.

“Morning, Dad.”

“Hey, sport. I’ll take you this morning. Don’t forget to return your spelling test today.”

“I have it.”

“Then let’s get going. Traffic is a mess.”

After he dropped his son off at school, Luke decided to stop for breakfast, then go by the hospital to check on the kid. And Calandre Giovanni.

Luke wasn’t sure what it was about the woman that intrigued him. Maybe it’s that interesting name—Calandre. He smiled. The name itself sounded strong. Determined. Spunky. And the woman? Well, the name fit. Perfectly.

He tried to justify seeing her again. Am I crossing the line between personal and professional? He didn’t like the answer, so he looked at the situation from another angle. Deciding the least he could do was make sure she found someone to help her until the doctor allowed her to remove her bandages, Luke proceeded. Even one day without his eyesight would send him up the walls. Nothing wrong with offering to help.

Luke stopped at Teodoro’s and greeted Teddy warmly.

“Good morning, Luke.”

“Make me two breakfasts to go. Say, do you happen to know a blonde who drives a white 4 Runner in your neighborhood watch group?” Luke dug his wallet from his pocket.

“Blonde, 4 Runner,” Teddy repeated, frowning. “No. Doesn’t sound familiar. Something wrong?”

“We’re looking for a witness. Thought she may have been the one. Thanks anyway, Teddy.” Luke waited for his food, then paid and left.

Walking into Calli’s hospital room, he felt helpless. Before him was a woman who was totally vulnerable. She lay on her side, her left arm propped on a pillow. Her short black hair was a mess, her thin lips pale and dry and her delicate features were mottled with bruises. What in tarnation am I doing here? Just as he considered turning and walking away, she moved.

“Mmm…Teddy’s breakfast burritos.” Her voice was soft.

“That’s quite a nose.” He wanted to elaborate, but figured he was pushing the boundaries by coming back at all. After all, he had met her in the line of duty. He’d consoled his conscience with the knowledge that he wasn’t the primary officer on her case, and, since completing the statement, was now officially “off” the case.

“Sergeant Northrup…”

“Just Luke. I’m off duty.” He opened the paper sack and unloaded two foil-wrapped packages.

“Oh,” she said, her voice unable to conceal her puzzlement. She fumbled with the pillow, then the bed controls, obviously uncomfortable with his return. “Did you need me to answer more questions?”

He cleared her untouched breakfast tray from the bed table, glad she couldn’t see the guilt-laden grin across his face. “No, I uh, wanted to check on the kid, and thought I’d stop in to see how you’re feeling…. As long as I’m here. I have an extra burrito if you’d like one. I see you don’t think much of the food here.”

There was a long pause, then the corner of her mouth lifted. “I plead the Fifth. But I never turn down Teddy’s burritos. Thanks. You’re off duty, and you’re here? Aren’t you tired?”

“Takes me a few hours to wind down after a crazy shift like last night’s.” Luke unwrapped the burrito and placed it in her long fingers. She was enchanting—even in this state. Visiting her was not the best way to unwind, he reflected.

“How is your other patient?”

Here she lay uncertain of her own future, and she seemed more concerned about a total stranger’s condition. Luke wished he could brush her worries away. “Still in a coma.”

“I’m sorry.”

She didn’t ask for the details, for which he was eternally grateful. He didn’t know how he could’ve politely told her he couldn’t discuss an open case. Especially when one witness lay in a coma and the other had left without a trace.

It seemed like forever since there’d been anyone he’d been remotely interested in. Which made it even more difficult that Calandre Giovanni’s case had to involve him. “I understand you get to go home today.” Ingenious, Northrup. You’d think this is the first woman you’d talked to.

“I guess so. The doctor says there’s no need to hang around here. The bandages make it look worse than it is. I think they’re trying to slow me down.” She ran her fingers over her head. Or what little hair was exposed anyway. She tentatively explored the gauze and slipped a finger under the edge and scratched her temple. “My things…from my truck. Are they here?”

“Just your clothes and purse. Whatever else you had, you can pick up at the salvage yard where your car was towed.”

“Salvage yard?” She nibbled her lower lip.

“That’s where vehicles are taken until the damage has been determined.” He wondered if she had someone who could take her to get her belongings. “If you’d like, I could take you to clean it out.”

Again, the silence was ominous. Her tone changed from the friendly exchange they’d established to one of total skepticism. “Thank you for offering, but I’ll manage. My cousin is on her way with clean clothes.”

“Okay. If you need anything, feel free to call me. Here’s a card with your case number, the responding officer’s name and my number if you have any questions.” After visiting for a while longer, he placed his business card in her hand and left.

At home two days later, Calli found the switch to turn on the radio, and rocked in the antique chair. Music was the only thing she could enjoy without her sight. Running her fingers over the card in her hand, Calli wondered why Sergeant Luke Northrup had really returned. She inhaled, flustered as much by the fading aroma as she had been the man.

At first she thought he’d discovered a connection to the apartments when filling out the remainder of the report, but later she began to wonder if the personal interest was mutual. Yet she still couldn’t allow herself to call, even to thank him for his kindness. He was a cop.

It didn’t matter that he had a soothing voice that made her forget her past. Or manners that her grandmother would applaud. Or enough compassion to rewrite her personal definition of law enforcement officer. He was still a cop.