Captured Again (7 page)

“Umm... I just wanted to say sorry. You know, for umm... having to arrest you last night,” he said sheepishly. “But it
is
my job. I hope there are no hard feelings.”

Emma studied his face, looking for any sign of arrogance or superiority that she would assume would come from a cop facing someone they’d had to use their power against, costing that person God only knows how much. But all she saw was friendliness with maybe a little regret. She decided to let him off the hook. She was no fan of drunk drivers either and still couldn’t believe she now was one. She knew it was her own fault and took full responsibility.

She gave him a small smile—a closed-mouth smile with no teeth but still a smile—and a slight nod.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Thank you? Umm... for what?” he asked, confused.

“Thank you for apologizing. It won’t make a difference in the long run. Or on my day in court. But thank you for being sorry.”

Emma watched his face transform from confused to hopeful, and instantly regretted her answer. She could feel it coming.

“Oh. Okay. Well, umm, you want to get a coffee or something?”

Bam. There it was: the pick-up line. She couldn’t believe it. He actually thought an apology would get him a hook-up? Seriously? Even if he hadn’t been the cop that arrested her, she still wasn’t interested. She had no time for chatting and sipping overpriced coffee while trying to blend into the cool crowd. She wasn’t like most of the college crowd. She had obligations... and her studies and a job. But right now at the top of her list was the latest family crisis to deal with. Besides, if he really knew her, he wouldn’t be asking her out. He was way out of her league. She could feel the discomfort by the warm flush creeping up her neck.

“Umm...” she said, hiding her own embarrassment by mimicking his irritating repetitive “um’s,” and pasting a big fake smile on her face. “That would be a no.”

She watched his face transform back from hopeful to confused, and walked off leaving him standing there, feeling a bit bad about the hard letdown, but she didn’t know this guy and didn’t want to. He would just find out later he was too good for her. Over the last few years, she’d found it was best to be quick about it—and even a little mean. It kept them from asking again, and her having to go through the same awkwardness of saying no. Or worse, saying yes, only to be embarrassed by someone running into them and reminding her that she was “that girl.”

But she wasn’t
that
girl anymore. She was very different from
that
girl. But until she actually graduated college and really accomplished something, she didn’t feel like she could convince anyone else. She no longer living in that crappy trailer, unaware of what was going on around her because she was drunk, but she still felt like she had to do more to prove herself to be someone new. That girl was long gone, but not forgotten in this small town.

“D
ammit!”

Emma kicked the tire of her car and smacked the hood. Her driver’s door was hanging open and Dusty could see her bag thrown into the passenger seat. He thought about walking on by, after having just received that cold response from her, but he couldn’t help himself. Even off the clock... protect and serve.

“What’s the problem? Car won’t start?” he asked.

“Yes, the car started... and I drove off minutes before you got here on my way to a very important errand. That’s why you don’t see me standing here with my hood up in this friggin’ parking lot, Einstein!” Emma snapped sarcastically as she whipped around to face him.

Whoa!
Again, he was seeing a handful of firecracker in this girl. He wasn’t sure whether to back away slowly and try to delete the last twenty-four hours out of his mind, or to jump in with both feet and feel the heat.

Before he could respond, Emma hung her head and apologized. “I’m sorry. That was rude. I’m just really stressed out and tired.”

While he debated offering his help, she bent over, reaching through the driver’s door to grab her purse from the floor on the opposite side. She looked even better in jeans than she did in that little sundress she’d worn the night before; with that view, it was decided.

“Let me take a look. Maybe I can help,” he offered.

Emma dug in her purse, not finding what she was looking for right away. “No. It’s okay. I’ll call someone if I can find my damn phone.”

“I don’t mind at all. I know a little about cars,” he again offered.

Emma stopped digging for the phone and looked at him. She sucked in and then blew out a deep breath. “Okay, if you don’t mind. I am really in a hurry and don’t have time to wait for someone to come and get me,” she answered.

Dusty dropped his backpack on the ground and walked over to peek under the hood. He poked and prodded a few things—of which he had no clue what—and hmm’d a few times for good measure. Then he stepped around Emma, slid into the driver’s seat, and attempted to start the car. He got nothing.

Emma stood with her hands on her hips, one eyebrow arched, seeming to be waiting for him to work some type of mechanical magic usually reserved for all guys—or so that’s what the ladies usually thought.

He stepped out and gave Emma a very serious look.

“What’s wrong with it?” she asked nervously and then chewed on her lip, waiting for the diagnosis.

Dusty almost came undone watching her chew that lip again.

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said. “The good news is I have a perfectly good-running car right there across the parking lot and I’ll be happy to run you to your errand if you’re in a hurry. The bad news is I don’t know shit about cars.”

Emma tilted her head and blew out her breath in a grunt at him and then laughed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he answered meekly, giving her a half smile, surprised to finally hear the sound of her laugh and hoping for her forgiveness for his lack of manly mechanical skills. He really did want to help; this wasn’t another attempt to hook up with Emma. He would’ve tried to help anyone—but cars were not his thing.

“Okay. You’re a cop, so I’m assuming I can trust you. I really do need to get to my sister’s house in a hurry. And I won’t be there long. So if you could just wait for me and then bring me back here, I’ll call someone to come look at the car—someone who knows something about cars,” she added, laughing again.

“Cool. I’ll take you. No problem,” Dusty answered while walking over to slam the hood shut. He grabbed his backpack off the ground and was heading toward the other side of the parking lot in a quick walk.

Emma quickly shut the door of her car and locked it and had to run to catch up to Dusty’s long strides.

“Oh, crap,” Emma nearly shouted.

“What?”

“That’s your patrol car you’re headed for, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, so?”

Emma huffed. “I don’t want to ride in a patrol car to my sister’s house. I’m in enough trouble with them as it is. If they see the car, they’ll freak out!”

“Oh. Well, that’s what I’m driving today, so if you want a ride... this is it,” he said as he made it to the car and opened the passenger door, gallantly holding his hand out as if to welcome her in.

Emma stood with her hand on her hip, looking up into the sky and shaking her head, as if the answer were there. Finally, she answered, “Okay, there shouldn’t be anyone there anyway.”

Dusty waited for her to settle in and then shut the door, moving to the other side and climbing into his own seat. He looked over at Emma, giving her a big grin, and said, “Click it or ticket!”

“Very funny,” Emma answered as she yanked the seatbelt and clicked it in place. “You’re off duty. You can’t ticket me.”

“Yep. I can, actually,” he answered with a wink.

“S
o... let me get this straight,” Dusty said. “You’re going into your sister’s house—not the one that picked you up at the station—but her
twin
, to raid her husband’s closet, and you have to hurry and do it before she gets home?”

“That’s right, Officer Rowan,” Emma answered distractedly while texting Gabby to see if she was still at work.

“Call me Dusty. And why is this seeming more like a breaking and entering, and possibly theft, than the urgent errand you originally led me to believe? Does your boyfriend not have enough money to buy his own clothes?” Dusty asked, trying to pull the information out of Emma as they were making their way up Gabby’s street.

Emma’s phone chirped. She quickly read the text and breathed a sigh of relief. “Cool, she’s still at work. Come on, it’s the next driveway on the right.”

“Again, Emma. Before we... I mean you—
definitely you
—do this, can you explain a little more to me?”

Emma knew she couldn’t, or shouldn’t, explain anything to Dusty about her family’s business, especially their current crisis. She would just have to give him the short version, although it wasn’t the whole truth—it would have to do.

“In a nutshell, Gabby and her husband, Jake, were in a terrible car crash a few months ago. She had a head injury and has been diagnosed with PTSD. Some days she’s fine, but not many. She’s grieving for him and teetering on the edge. Since she got out of the hospital, she refuses to listen to reason—she functions, and she went back to work where she does okay there too, but she’s still in denial. Our family has been told by her doctor to stop trying to reason with her for now, just try to be supportive and keep a close eye on her,” Emma explained, hoping it would be enough to stop any more questions.

“That still doesn’t answer why you’re going to take her husband’s clothes.”

“Well... she has all his stuff just sitting there. We’re just taking out a few things at a time. Some sweatpants and basketball shorts and a couple of T-shirts. Trust me, he has a lot more. Gabby won’t even miss them,” Emma answered.

The car rolled to a stop outside Gabby’s house. Emma reached for the door handle when she felt Dusty’s hand on her arm. She looked back at him only to see the same determined look she saw last night when he’d finally told her she was being arrested.

“Emma, wait. Even if this is your sister’s house, I cannot just let you go in there and steal her dead husband’s stuff. That’s not only illegal; it’s just not right,” he said very solemnly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.”

Emma cringed at the “dead husband” part and closed her eyes as a wave of grief washed over her. She was so screwing this up and digging herself a hole with this guy.

“No, you’re confused. I’m not
stealing them!
I’m just... moving them... Look, it’s complicated.”

“This still doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Look,
Officer Rowan
, I’m not doing anything illegal—or immoral. My family knows, and I’m not the only one doing it. If it makes you feel better, I’ll call my sister Olivia and let you listen in. Hang on a second.”

Emma frantically pulled her phone out and dialed Olivia. Turning it once to Dusty, so he could see the “Twinnie #1” contact name as it popped up, she then put it on speaker and could hear it ringing.
Hurry up, Olivia. Pick up! I really need to hurry here.
Gabby’s house was off the road quite a bit, but if someone came by to deliver something or check on Gabby—as neighbors had been frequently doing lately—they might see the patrol car in her driveway and mention it to her.

“Hello?”

“Olivia! It’s Emma. Look... I’ve got you on speakerphone and need you to answer a question or two. Just answer yes or no, okay?”

“Okay,” Olivia said hesitantly.

“Okay. Is Gabby grieving for Jake?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Emma. What kind of question is that? You know she is! What’s wrong with you?”

“Olivia! I have you on speakerphone. I said to answer just yes or no... I’ll explain later.”

“YES!” her oldest and usually most patient twin sister said and let out a tired sigh.

“And does Gabby still have all Jake’s clothes just as he left them, and do we take turns taking—I mean moving—some of them, and is it my turn to do a grab while Gabby’s at work?”

“Yes, yes, and yes. What is this about, Emma?”

“I gotta go... Love you, bye.”

Emma had been watching Dusty during the call. Now he just shook his head, giving up.