Dark Blue (South Island PD Book 1) (31 page)

“Sorry I don’t have much time,” Belle said. “I’m heading over to Jackson’s in a little bit, after his roommate leaves for work.”

Mariah nodded and poured two glasses of sweet tea, sliding one across her kitchen table toward Belle.

“How’s he doing?”

“His wounds are healing well – no signs of infection. The swelling isn’t too crazy, as long as he keeps his leg elevated.”

“Great. What about his mental wellbeing?”

Belle shifted her gaze down to her glass full of sweet, dark tea crowded with ice cubes. Mariah’s kitchen smelled like coffee and citrus – a pleasant combination. But the question reminded her of the weight she carried in her chest now – the one that anchored down her heart.

“I think he could be doing better in that respect. He gets restless, which is totally understandable. But it’s more than that, sometimes – being handicapped isn’t sitting well with him at all, even if it’s just temporary. I’ve been trying to do what I can to keep his stress levels down, but I think my main effort may’ve backfired.”

“And what was your main effort?” Mariah peered over her glass of tea, her eyebrows creeping toward her hairline. “Have you two already started having sex again?”

“No.” It was too bad, because she missed sex with Jackson. A lot. “With the shape his leg is in, we can’t. I see the way he winces when he’s moving around on the couch and doesn’t know I’m looking.”

Mariah nodded, her expression sympathetic. “So what was it that backfired on you, then?”

“You remember the day I found those flowers in my apartment?”

“Of course.”

“I didn’t tell Jackson about it right away. Elijah and I thought it’d be better to wait a few days, until he was out of the hospital, to spring the news on him. But he was upset that we kept it from him.”

“I can imagine.”

Belle met her friend’s gaze.

“Come on, Belle – he’s a man. And a cop. Can’t you imagine how he must’ve felt when he found out you were sheltering him?”

Belle shifted in her seat. “You’re obviously right, but all I could think about was trying to protect him any way I could. It might not have been much, but it was something.”

“Sounds as if he’s already frustrated by the limitations his injury has placed on him. That’s pretty common with patients who’ve experienced traumatic wounds like his. In the blink of an eye, everything changes and they’re slammed with handicaps they never imagined having. And then he realized that when you were in danger, you went to someone else and kept it from him because you didn’t think he could handle it.”

The weight in Belle’s chest sank deeper. “When you put it that way, I sound like a real jerk.”

“Hey, I’m a nurse – I practically have superpowers. I don’t expect everyone to have this kind of insight.” She smiled, and the expression faded moments later. “I’ve seen a lot of hurt people Belle, and it’s hard, especially for guys like Jackson. It’s still early days, too – he’s experiencing the worst stage, and the light at the end of the tunnel probably seems pretty far away to him.”

“I guess that for him, the light at the end of the tunnel is returning to work.”

“If you think so, you’re probably right.”

Belle sighed. Now that Mariah had verbalized what Jackson was probably feeling, she felt spectacularly shitty. She said so to Mariah.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty. Why don’t you look ahead and try to make the immediate future a little brighter for him?”

“I’d love to; I just don’t know how to do it.”

“Well, there’s one thing that might get his mind off his leg…” Mariah wiggled her brows.

“I wish, but with his injuries—”

“Forget about bouncing around in bed. There are other things you could do for now, right? If he has to stay still, he might as well enjoy it.”

Belle smiled despite herself. “Maybe.”

“You know it’s a good idea – I see the gleam in your eye.”

Belle laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. It
was
an appealing idea. If they could both shove aside their worries long enough to let a spark of pleasure ignite between them, maybe it would be just what they needed.

“Hey,” Mariah said. “Have you seen today’s paper?”

“No, why?”

“Hold on a sec.” Mariah stood and grabbed a paper off the hutch by the fridge. “Front page – look.”

She dropped the paper on the table.

A bolt of surprise arrowed through Belle as her gaze settled on the headline.

Hero Cop Shields Local Woman from Gunfire,
it read in bold type. Beneath was a portrait of a blonde woman, and beside it, a photo of Jackson.

It was a head and shoulders shot of him in uniform, looking serious and strikingly handsome – probably a portrait the department had had taken. They must’ve provided it, because Jackson hadn’t said anything about being in the newspaper.

“Looks like the woman he rescued did an interview,” Mariah said. “It’s nice, too – very complimentary of Jackson.”

“It should be; he saved her life.” Jackson had recounted what’d happened to Belle, and she knew he’d shielded the woman with his body while bullets had been flying.

“Yeah, she came into the hospital that night too. Between you and me, she was on death’s door when she got there – lost a lot of blood. If he’d gotten there any later or she’d sustained another wound, she’d be dead.”

Belle’s gaze was drawn to the newspaper article, and as she read, she could see it all unfolding in her mind.

Officer Jackson Calder, 29, of the South Island Police Department, responded to a call at Mead Avenue at approximately half past midnight on Tuesday. A resident had called 911 to report sounds of a conflict coming from a home shared by Marissa Brewer, 31, and her partner Thomas Horton, 37.

“We’d fought before,” said Marissa in an interview with the
South Island Times
, “but this was the worst time by far. Eventually he picked up a kitchen knife and swung it at me. By the time I realized I’d been stabbed, I was too disoriented to call for help. I didn’t know someone had called 911. When I heard a knock at the door, I thought maybe it was a neighbor coming to complain about the noise.”

Bleeding heavily, Marissa struggled to make it to the door and was surprised to find a South Island police officer on her doorstep.

“As soon as I saw him, I heard Thomas behind me,” she said, “and I knew something bad was going to happen. The hair on the back of my neck stood up, and Officer Calder grabbed me. Next thing I knew, something slammed into my shoulder. From the sound of the gun, I knew I’d been shot. I was on the porch floorboards, and Officer Calder was down there with me, between me and the doorway. I didn’t realize he’d been shot too.

“I don’t remember a lot after that, but I know he was there and when I woke up after surgery in the hospital, they told me he’d been shot. I was glad to know he’d survived, because right away, I knew he’d saved my life.”

Officer Calder is a four-year veteran of the South Island police force and a graduate of the police science program at South Island Community College. A lifelong South Island resident, he graduated from the police academy at the top of his class and has been in good standing with the department since.

A second officer, Greg Sanders, was also at the scene of the shooting. Neither he nor Officer Calder could be reached for comment.

Both Marissa Brewer and Officer Calder were transported from the scene to the trauma center at South Island Hospital with potentially life threatening injuries but are now in stable condition. Marissa credits Officer Calder, the South Island Rescue Squad and the medical staff at the hospital with her survival of what easily could have been a fatal incidence of domestic violence.

“I was bleeding so badly,” she says, “that every minute counted. Officer Calder got there just in time, and if he hadn’t protected me from any further wounds, I wouldn’t be here. He’s a hero.”

Belle set down the paper. Her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes stung. Blinking, she tore her gaze away from the article.

Mariah was her best friend, but it was still embarrassing to feel tears welling in her eyes for no reason.

No reason besides the fact that Jackson had nearly laid down his life to save a stranger’s, anyway. Seeing the facts in black and white print sent a crack through her heart. She was unbearably proud, and deeply sorry for hurting him.

He was an amazing person – how many people would be willing to do something so fearlessly selfless? Now more than ever, she saw the truth in what Mariah had said about how she’d hurt him by not telling him about the intrusion at her apartment right away.

She’d apologize to him when she got to his place.

He was anything but weak, and she’d make sure he realized she knew that.

* * * * *

Jackson was getting proficient at moving around on his crutches. Navigating the apartment that way was awkward, but it was sweet freedom compared to being stuck on his ass in bed or on the couch. Even if it did chafe his armpits.

Elijah had cooked him some healthy meals he called “recovery food” and packed them into plastic containers. Jackson had just popped one out of the microwave and was sitting at the kitchen table eating when movement out the window caught his eye and he saw Belle pull into the parking lot.

He opened the door before she could get to it with the key he’d given her.

“Hey.” She seemed surprised to see him standing there. “You look like you’re doing better today.”

“Don’t call the press or anything, but I ate dinner sitting at the table.”

Her smile was bright. “How’s your leg feeling?”

“Not too bad.” Compared to how it’d felt a week ago, it was true.

“Good.” She shut the door behind herself, locking the deadbolt and knob.

The sound of the bolt sliding home reminded him of the worries that’d been haunting him ever since he’d gotten home from the hospital. “Everything okay at your place?”

“Yes. My security camera feed has to be the most boring one on the face of the planet.”

“Don’t get complacent – for all we know, whoever was in your place has just been busy or biding their time.” Saying it out loud left a sour taste in his mouth, but it was true. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d broken out in a sweat during the day thinking about it. Whenever she went home at night, he called the department and pestered them to keep an eye on her street.

“Right.”

“Have you considered getting a dog?” he asked. “German Shepherds make great watchdogs and companions. Better than any electronic security system.”

“I’m not allowed to have pets where I live.”

“Maybe your landlord would make an exception, considering what’s been going on.”

She set her purse down on a kitchen counter. “What would I do with a puppy while I was at work?”

“Don’t get a puppy – adopt an adult dog. There are plenty of rescues.”

She turned to face him, her expression skeptical. “I’m taking all the precautions I can, okay? Which reminds me … there’s something I need to say to you.”