Dark Blue (South Island PD Book 1) (9 page)

He was the kind of man who appealed to her on every level, who she’d compared all men to since. He’d set the bar high, and no one else had ever measured up.

Maybe that was for the best. Maybe her past heartache had been a blessing in disguise.

Alone in the dark, it was easy to be honest with herself, and she knew: her attraction to Jackson was too strong to ignore. She’d see him again, and she’d see where this went – even if she took things slow.

If it hurt, so be it – she couldn’t be on the same island as that man and not take a chance on him.

Monday started to go to shit from the very beginning, when the officers on Jackson’s shift assembled for roll call.

“Lieutenant Aldred will be taking some time off,” the shift sergeant told them. “Family emergency. Meanwhile, we’ll be appointed an interim lieutenant. We should have that information soon.”

The atmosphere in the room changed, becoming a fog of curiosity and concern. Lieutenant Aldred was liked enough that people cared about whatever was going on with her, and waiting to hear the name of her temporary replacement was basically a game of Russian roulette. They might get stuck with an ass.

By the time roll call was over, speculation was already flying.

“Sucks,” Elijah said as they headed for the door. “Wonder what’s up. She’s not married.”

“Maybe one of her parents is sick,” Jackson said. The lieutenant’s parents were probably in their sixties or seventies – at that age when health problems were prone to striking.

He’d lost his much earlier: when he’d moved out at seventeen. Technically though, only one of them was dead.

Of course, his father being in prison – where he belonged – was as good as dead as far as he was concerned.

Presumably, things were different for Lieutenant Aldred: she probably cared about her parents. He tried to imagine what that would be like, tried to muster some sympathy.

It wasn’t easy, and he was quickly distracted by more important things. It was a long, grinding Monday on the island, thanks to a string of shitty calls: a traffic accident, a fight between two kids whose mothers were even more combative than their teenagers, and a woman who insisted her neighbor had kidnapped her cat in retribution for a dispute they’d had over a tree that sprawled over the property line.

That call was the most irritating of all. After Jackson spoke to the neighbor – who’d been at work when the cat had gone missing – the cat owner raged and swore at him until he threatened to arrest her.

In the end, he’d left her with a suggestion to call the animal shelter and see if they’d taken in any cats meeting her pet’s description. She’d stomped back into her house, muttering “pig” just loud enough for him – and the rest of the neighborhood – to hear.

Overall, it wasn’t the sort of thing he’d imagined dealing with when he’d been a recruit in the police academy. No one had mentioned that there were people out there who’d expect you to have magical cat-finding radar.

At least he got to leave, though. The alleged catnapper was stuck living beside the angry cat lady, and if she wasn’t a neighbor from hell, he didn’t know who was.

On really shitty days, that was what he loved most about the job: the ability to walk away from the ridiculous people who called asking for his help, then spewed their venom in his face before he even had a chance to begin. Dealing with them was his job, but his obligation to them ended when he got home and pulled his boots off. For someone who’d spent the first seventeen years of his life stuck under the same roof with a nasty excuse for a family, it was a comfort.

The ability to walk away was freedom, and he’d been reveling in it for years. He had no family – at least, not that he acknowledged. And all his friends were cops. The only person in his life from the outside world was Belle.

The realization raised a weighted question: would what he had to offer her – his world – be enough?

He was proud of what he’d become, and the process had honed traits he’d developed out of necessity as a kid: reluctance to trust, the ability to compartmentalize and a fierce loyalty he shared with few but would die to uphold.

If she stayed with him, she’d get the full measure of that loyalty – he’d always have her back. But while that was enough for his fellow officers, he couldn’t expect that to be enough for her.

There were other things women wanted. Likewise, there were men out there who had what he lacked: family and freedom to trust, experience in what it was like to love someone.

Would she really choose him, when it came down to it? Was he capable of pleasing her more than just physically?

She’d listened to him so intently the night before last when he’d bitched about his problems and had even thrown a few of his own thoughts back at him. She’d truly understood, and now he had to wonder whether he’d be capable of doing the same for her.

When they’d been younger, her life had always seemed like a mystery to him, a puzzle he’d longed to run his hands through the pieces of but had never expected to be able to solve.

What if there was no being enough for her? What if there were rooms in her heart he’d always leave empty because life hadn’t given him the keys?

The question ate at him as he finished his shift, and he was still short on answers when he parked his cruiser outside the department, hot and tired, ready for the day to be over.

* * * * *

Jackson barely had time to strip out of his uniform and grab a shower before he had to leave the apartment again. Unfortunately, he was wasn’t leaving to meet Belle, as he would’ve preferred.

He and Elijah were meeting a bunch of other officers from the platoon at a bar by the water. Lieutenant Aldred was coming, and they were going to wish her well with a drink or two. Given the fact that the lieutenant had given enough of a shit to agree, and the fact that he respected her, he had to go.

Elijah drove. When they were a block away from their apartment building, he turned down the music.

“What’s got you down?” he asked. “Having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that having a badge makes you a punching bag for crazy cat ladies?”

“Maybe. If that’s not enough to ruin anyone’s day, I don’t know what is.”

That was bullshit, of course. He’d laughed while telling Elijah about the catnapping conspiracy theorist.

It was funny how much easier it’d been to laugh about it once he’d gotten home and didn’t have to worry about being called back out there again.

“Well, get over it. Or at least, drink until you don’t care.”

“And end up like Faust? No thanks.”

Faust was an officer who’d blown his brains out with his service weapon three years ago after driving drunk and killing three people in a crash. He’d been a raging alcoholic, and his memory was notorious around the department – something people used to nag at each other.
Watch it with the whiskey, or you’ll end up like Faust.

Not that anyone listened.

“You’re not gonna end up like Faust. To out-drink him, you’d have to go back in time and start chugging bourbon in the fifth grade.”

Ironically, Jackson could’ve done that and worse, at an even younger age. Some kids grew up in nurseries full of toys. He’d grown up beneath a leaking roof, breathing in his parents’ smoke and bottom shelf whiskey breath.

“If I’m gonna drink myself stupid, I’m not going to do it over some cat lady. I’ll save it for a really shitty day.”

“Right. The day when you have to answer another call at her place because the neighbor noticed a strange smell, and she’s been lying dead inside for a week with her cats eating her face.”

Jackson grimaced, but Elijah just grinned.

“Sick, man.” He knew officers who’d walked in on worse things.

Elijah shrugged. “The liver heals itself, as long as you give it time. It can handle a binge every now and then.”

He was all talk. Of all the officers Jackson knew, Elijah was one of the lightest drinkers and was known for taking people’s keys for safekeeping at parties. He took things in stride. He was a good cop, and the son of a veteran detective. Maybe his old man had given him some sort of insider wisdom on how to deal with the things he encountered on the job.

Jackson would have to ask him to share if he was ever unlucky enough to discover the corpse of his least favorite cat lady.

When they reached the bar, the lot was packed despite the fact that it was Monday. More than a few of the vehicles were familiar – apparently he and Elijah were far from the first to arrive to support the lieutenant.

She got there a few minutes after they did, looking almost like a stranger in jeans and a t-shirt, her straight blonde hair loose and hanging to her shoulders. The scar along her jaw was the only thing that really looked the same.

In civilian clothes, her shoulders looked narrower, her frame thinner. She sat up straight, but her eyes looked darker than usual. Maybe it was just Jackson’s imagination, or maybe her uniform had been hiding the strain caused by a problem that’d been brewing for some time.

The radio blared and Jackson ordered a beer, settling at the bar with Elijah. Its coolness dispelled a little of the heat the August day had scorched him with, and the taste of hops lingered, bitter and familiar, on the back of his tongue.

When the lieutenant took a seat a couple bar stools away, she was just close enough to hear over the music.

A detective asked her how long she thought she’d be gone, and she said she didn’t know – that at most, she might have to use all three months of her available FMLA time. Her mother had been sick for a while and the sister who’d been taking care of her had recently injured her back. She’d be caring for her mom until her sister was fully recovered.

“Well, I think we’re all sorry to see you go, even if it’s just for a few weeks,” the detective said.

The lieutenant nodded. “I’m sure you’ll be in good hands with Harding.”

Elijah shot Jackson a look, one eyebrow slightly raised. “So Harding’s our interim lieutenant.”

“Good ’ol Hardass,” Jackson said, because that was what people called the fifty-something officer behind his back.

The news didn’t bring on any strong emotions, just a vague sense of wariness. He barely knew Harding, but the guy was known for ruling with few words and an iron fist.

Jackson didn’t bother speculating about what life under Harding would be like. They’d all find out soon enough. Instead, he tried his best to relax and enjoy his beer.

It would’ve been easier to do at home. Then again, it was probably good for him to get out while not in uniform.

It was a new thought, the sort of thing he hadn’t started thinking about until Belle had sped over the bridge and back into his life. The fact that he spent most of his time either at work or at home had never bothered him. In fact, he’d embraced it.

But now, he was aware that such a one-track existence might seem strange to anyone on the outside.

Not that getting a drink with a bunch of co-workers was really stepping beyond his comfort zone. The thought made him snort as he set down his beer.

“What?” Elijah said.

“Nothing.”

“Thinking about what a dumbass you were to write that girl a ticket, huh?”

“We went out the other day.” Jackson couldn’t help but feel smug.

The feeling didn’t last long. Before Elijah could reply, a fresh group of officers filtered in.

Their faces were only semi-familiar – they belonged to another platoon.

Still, they were there, maybe because they’d heard about the gathering, or maybe not. This bar treated cops well, and the food was pretty damn good. Consequently, it’d been haunted by local officers for years. Sanders was among them and the sight of his face made Jackson tense, hot anger tearing through him.

Sanders had some fucking nerve, showing up at the bar. And Jackson knew there was a good chance he’d get trashed, go home and take whatever frustrations he had out on his wife. Again.