Love To The Rescue (3 page)

“I read mostly mysteries, thrillers.” He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “I ski at Sunshine every year. Maybe call it Sunshine Shenanigans Series.”

Amy laughed in spite of herself. “Beautiful alliteration, Constable, but as a title for a contemporary romantic suspense series...not so much.”

“I didn’t think so. Are those your children?” he pointed to the picture of four smiling faces clipped to her fridge door.

“No, that’s my neighbor’s brood.” Amy smiled at him, feeling less tense about the whole morning fiasco. “They’re really great kids. Well-behaved, willing to help without being asked.”

“We’d better finish this report if you’re up to it.”

“Go ahead. And thank you for...”

He just nodded and continued, “You mentioned that you neglected to set the security alarm when you left. Was there any particular reason for that? Were you distracted by a telephone call? Or had you hurried to complete a forgotten chore, folding laundry or something?”

“No, just in a hurry to get out the door so I wouldn’t be late. I have a thing about being late for appointments,” she admitted.

“So, you dashed out the door forgetting the alarm. What did you do next?”

“I drove my vehicle out of the garage and slowly continued backing down the driveway after I pushed the garage door control on the visor. I checked to ensure the garage door was lowering after I turned onto the street, which it was, and then I drove away.”

“And you didn’t notice anyone outside your home? A stranger in the neighborhood? Or the teenager we arrested?”

“No one. Not even a neighbor. I’ve never seen that teen before either.”

Officer Robertson returned to his report, and Amy returned to her musings. Was it too late to request a ‘something’? She’d suggest mouth-to-mouth resuscitation if her heart stopped. And it might any second now if she willed it to, just to feel his mouth pressed to hers.

She spied the ring finger on his left hand. Bare. But that wasn’t a guarantee he was single. And she glanced at the gold wedding band on her hand. Nothing said ‘married’ like a wedding band, but she had informed him she was a widow. Allan died over a year and a half ago. Leslie had been harassing her to start dating again, and she’d almost convinced herself it was time to move on. Perhaps she should remove her rings, especially considering the unexpected attraction she felt to this man.

“You returned home a few minutes before you called 9-1-1. Is that correct?” His luscious lips enticed her with each word.

“I didn’t stop to chat with a neighbor, just entered the house and discovered my living room in a mess. I backed out and called 9-1-1 immediately. And then
you
arrived.” She realized a second too late that she’d placed too much emphasis on the ‘you’. And then she grimaced, imagining her expression of adoration that might have accompanied the word. What would he think of her, making puppy dog eyes at him? Hero worship for rescuing her from a bad situation? Frustrated, sex-starved widow? There might be some validity in the latter, but her sex life or lack thereof was none of his business. Unfortunately.

Officer Robertson smiled at her, and her bones almost turned to mush. He shifted in his chair and then returned to his report. Amy considered his handsome face for a moment and decided she could simply conjure up an image of this man and any love scene in one of her novels would write itself!

“Is there anything else you can add to the report? Any questions you’d like answered?” He met her eyes, expectantly. And then he shifted on the chair again like a kindergartener in need of a trip to the bathroom.

Something had him squirming, but she couldn’t imagine what.

“Nothing I can think of,” she replied. The only question that popped into her head was ‘are you married?’ but she reined in her curiosity.

The enticing way his body filled out his uniform—broad chest just short of straining the buttons on his black shirt, lean waist and muscular legs evident in his dark trousers—caused her stomach to clench and her insides to quiver. She almost groaned aloud visualizing him out of that uniform.

“Do you agree?”

For crying out loud! She’d zoned out and missed another question. “Pardon me?”

“All that is missing from the house is the money you left on your dining room table?”

“Yes, that’s all I could see. If I discover something else is missing, I’ll call you,” she added. If she wasn’t such an honest, upstanding citizen, she’d swipe something herself for an excuse to call him. Something from her bedroom, so he’d have to check out the crime scene.

And then she realized she’d actually considered concocting a crime. What was she thinking? She was in the middle of a 9-1-1 Break and Enter report, ogling a cop. But hot guys like this ignited cop fantasies. She brushed her lascivious thoughts off as research. After all, she wrote romance novels for a living. She could totally utilize this guy as a hero in one of her novels.

Shockingly, she realized that stringing words together for a scene in a novel wasn’t the only thing that had crossed her mind. Her musings had been geared toward something personal, too. But that was just stupid, she told herself. After her husband died so suddenly and so tragically, she’d sworn to never fall in love with another man. A police officer faced life-threatening situations on the job all the time. Her heart would never survive anything that horrendous again, so why even go there. But no harm in imagining...

The police officer’s cell phone rang, and she jumped a foot.

“Excuse me,” he said as he rose from the chair, wandered across the room, and leaned against the counter on the opposite side of the kitchen.

While he took the call, she visualized them shipwrecked together on a deserted tropical island, lying side-by-side on a white sand beach, the hot sun warming their naked bodies. Amy felt herself blush. She desperately needed something cold to drink, very cold, but she’d settle for a cup of coffee. In her current weak-kneed, shaky-legged condition, filling the coffee maker with water could prove beyond her capabilities. Just when she decided to give it a try, Constable Robertson abruptly ended the call, slipped his cell phone back into his pocket, and returned to his chair.

“I have everything I need. Now, would you please fill in this witness statement and sign it?”

Amy squirmed in her chair. Had he guessed the direction her thoughts had taken? Was he having equally arousing fantasies about her? Was that the reason he’d been squirming in his chair?

He slid the witness statement sheet across the table to her, and the expression in his kind eyes felt like a whispered apology to her. Being powerless to prevent such pointless crimes must be frustrating for him. If only she’d remembered to set the darn alarm!

Amy took the pen he handed her and started completing her statement. She noticed that her hands were no longer shaking.

“Didn’t find a single thing out there,” Constable Wilson reported, as she returned from the backyard.

“I’m not surprised.” Robertson met Wilson’s eyes. “I just got off the phone with Garrett. While we were talking I mentioned a bit of money was missing from the house. Constable Baylor found a total of thirty dollars and sixty cents in the suspect’s pockets.”

Both cops glanced over at Amy.

She shuddered, once again recalling the look in the young man’s eyes. She quickly did the math in her head. “That sounds right. I gave the Avon lady a fifty dollar bill and my order was nineteen dollars and forty cents.”

“Do you have a copy of the bill?” asked Officer Wilson.

“My receipt is on the dining room table. You can have it.”

“Thanks.” Officer Wilson headed for the other room.

Amy added the part about paying her Avon lady to her statement, including the amount of money that exchanged hands. She read over everything she wrote. Surprisingly, it sounded rational and well-written. One advantage to being a writer, even under stress she could produce a sensible statement. She signed the document and pushed it across the table to Constable Robertson. He picked it up, checked it over quickly, and tore off the top copy. He offered her the bottom self-carbon copy. When he smiled, the cutest dimple appeared in his cheek.

She blushed when she realized he’d caught her staring at him. And he’d been staring right back at her. Did the cop find her attractive? Or was he simply concerned about another unfortunate victim of a break-in?

Finally, her brain clicked into gear and she reached for the sheet of paper. “Thank you.”

Their hands touched when she took her copy from him, creating a shock that jolted her to the core. She imagined the stunned expression on his face matched her own. She’d never felt such an instant attraction to any man, not even her late husband. Judging by Sally Wilson’s raised eyebrow, Amy suspected the female officer noticed something more than a piece of paper passed between them during the exchange.

“If we have any information to share with you regarding your case, we’ll get in touch immediately,” said Constable Wilson, handing Amy her business card. “If you’re having trouble dealing with this, please call Victim Services. You may feel violated, much like the victim of a physical attack. But that’s normal.”

“Thank you. I don’t think that’s necessary, but I’ll keep the service in mind.” Amy forced a smile in response to Sally Wilson’s concern, and then led the way to the front door. Constable Robertson followed on their heels.

Leslie stepped into the entryway and wrapped a protective arm around Amy’s waist.

Amy wanted the police out of her home.

She wanted to put everything in her house back to rights. “Thank you for your help. I’m grateful that you caught the guy.”

“You’re welcome, Ms. MacArthur. If we have any questions, we’ll call you.” Sally Wilson shook Amy’s hand and then followed Constable Robertson down the driveway.

Amy closed the front door. Mostly, she just wanted to forget the whole incident.

Yeah, right, she thought. Like that was going to happen.

For a full half hour after the police left, Amy succumbed to a good cry in the small bathroom off the kitchen. She hadn’t cried this hard since the night Allan was killed. She hated crying in front of people, even her best friend. Leslie understood and waited in the kitchen.

When she heard a doorbell ring, Amy wandered out of the bathroom in time to see Leslie unlock the back door and admit her neighbor. Tiffany and Dave Williams and their four children moved next door three years ago. They’d been a godsend when Allan died. Dave had done her yard work and shoveled snow, and Tiffany brought over casseroles. They’d become close friends.

“What on earth happened?” Tiffany surveyed the disarray in the kitchen and wrapped teary-eyed Amy in her arms. “The school called to inform me Sherry was crying with a tummy ache. When I drove her home, the street was crawling with police cars and cops. She’s napping on the family room couch so I snuck over here for a minute.”

“I forgot to set the damn alarm this morning. Some stoned teenager broke into my house and turned the place upside down.” Amy pulled out of her friend’s embrace to fetch more tissues.

“Oh my God. He couldn’t be from this neighborhood. What was he looking for? Electronics or something he could pawn for cash?”

“Nothing like that was taken.” Amy dabbed at her tears and then blew her nose. “The police think he was looking for money and drugs. He stole some cash I left on a table.”

“Drugs?”

Amy related the news about the drug house and followed it up with a description of the kid’s appearance. “ If you see anyone that fits his description, Tiff, call the police, okay?”

“You bet. Well, I’d better get back home.” Tiffany headed for the back door. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do?”

“We’re going to clean up the mess, but thanks for offering.” Amy smiled, hoping to reassure her neighbor that she’d be fine.

“Okay. Take care. I’m glad Leslie is here with you. And remember to set your alarm!” Tiffany sailed out the door and through the back gate heading home.

A few minutes later, Amy stood in the middle of the family room, hands on hips, and announced, “I’m not submitting a claim to my insurance company. The cost of the loss would only slightly exceed my deductible. Worst of all, I’d be obligated to admit I forgot to set the darn alarm.”

“I can’t believe it. The one time you forget to set the security system this happens,” observed Leslie.

“I know! What are the chances?” Amy threw up her hands. “I’m calling the glass shop that fixed my bedroom window last summer after Tiff’s son hit a baseball through it. Hopefully, they can send a guy over to fix the deck door this afternoon.”

Fifteen minutes later, she returned to the family room where Leslie was sorting books and neatly stacking them on the bookcases.

“They’re sending a guy over at three. Fortunately, my deck doors are pretty old or it would have taken two or three days to have the glass replaced.” Amy surveyed the mess. “I’m just stuffing anything that was ruined into the garbage, and considering this a lesson learned for neglecting to set the alarm. If there are drug houses even in a community like this, I should be more vigilant. From now on, that alarm will be activated every time I set foot outside these four walls and every night, too.” Amy noticed her friend had stopped working. “What?”

“Actually, by the time the police arrive after your alarm is triggered, you could be mugged, raped, shot dead, or almost anything. Maybe you need a more immediate deterrent.”

“Such as?” Amy turned and met her friend’s eyes. This was going to be good. Leslie was notorious for her hair-brained ideas.

“Something to meet the burglar with head on, like a loaded gun.”

“Right. Then for sure I’d be shot dead by the time the police arrive.” Amy shook her head. “I don’t know the first thing about guns. Probably shoot myself by mistake. Dumb idea, Les.”

“Well, you could learn. Take lessons.”

****

By six o’clock the deck door window was replaced, and the house had been returned to normal. Amy and Leslie sat cross-legged on the family room floor looking through her photo albums, waiting for the large vegetarian pizza they’d ordered. They reminisced about school and relived their most embarrassing high school and college antics together.