Steele Resolve (The Detective Jasmine Steele Series Book 1) (6 page)

And drank. And drank. I did shots of crappy tequila when the patron was all gone. I was so out of my mind I even licked the salt off the hot bartender’s abs, sucked the tequila from her naval and then made out with her for the lemon. That’s when things got a bit heated. Frankie walks up the bar to order a few drinks. She leans in-between me and Victor, which is like a sin in Victor’s world. So, he’s was giving her the look of death, it’s a hysterical look when he’s wasted. Me, I couldn’t breathe. She was leaning on my leg without necessarily meaning to. I could smell the cigarette stench too, and it made me leave my stool and rush to the bathroom.

Next thing I know, I’m facing the toilet and Victor’s holding my hair in the ladies bathroom. When my stomach was finished, always the awesome wingman hands me a piece of gum. I was more sober after the evacuation of my insides and the evening was going from bad to worse. Victor and I said our farewells to Hadley who was too busy talking shop with a film student to do anything but wave.

Victor points to some side street and tells me to meet him there, something about me stumbling into traffic. So, I walk around the building and come face to face with Frankie against the wall with the hot girl on her like a moth to a flame. I don’t really know how long it took for realization to set in, but when Frankie’s eyes met mine, she was pleading for help. I don’t know how or why, but protectiveness took over. I tapped the hot girl on the shoulder and questioned what her intentions were with my girlfriend.

Frankie watched me cautiously, I’m sure she had no idea if I was another person coming to assault her or a Good Samaritan. The hot girl removed herself from Frankie and looked me up and down. I’m one tall intimidating bitch when I want to be and right now – I wanted to be one. She puffed her chest out and I just crossed my arms, flexing every muscle I have – all three. Eventually, after a few words were said the bitch left and Frankie smiled at me. Victor honked the cabbies horn and I offered Frankie a ride home. I think I passed out on her shoulder. I remember feeling her fingers running through my hair. She has that comforting effect on anyone regardless if she just met them.

We dated for about two years before moving in together. It just felt right. She was making a lot more money than I was so she paid the majority of the rent. I took care of a lot of the basics, but struggling to get a job as a writer doesn’t really pay much. So, when Frankie decided to take psychology classes at night, I went with her. At the time I thought it would help me write my crime dramas or maybe a simple horror film. Truthfully, I had no idea that degree would change my life forever. We graduated; I became a cop and then a detective due mostly to my degree, anal retentive studying and having a great support staff around me.

Don’t get me wrong, money had to be made to survive so this job was a means to an end. I had ideas on various post-it notes, and they were posted everywhere. Frankie used to say my desk looked like it was hit by a post it explosion. I still wrote a lot at night, and Frankie worked as she normally did. We were talking about our future, and trying to figure out a way to secure our finances. Then everything changed with one phone call.

It wasn’t a call late at night. Not a rainy day. No snow. The sun shone brightly and I was going to surprise Frankie at dinner. When the phone rang, I swore it was her. Happy as a clam, I answered with my usual hello love. It wasn’t her. The officer on the other end asked me to come to a crime scene. I told him I was off duty and I would be in tomorrow. I assured him the officers on the clock were more than capable but he still insisted I come down. So I abandoned my plans and headed to the crash site.

Looking down I see tears have actually fallen from my eyes and landed on crime scene photos. Not a good thing. Quickly wiping them off the image I see more spots form on my shirt. I lean back on my heels and look up at the ceiling. I just want to be able to stop once in my life and smell the roses again. Brick by brick I felt the walls go up around me. I didn’t ask it to happen but I never stopped it either. One by one they stacked up higher and higher, preventing me from feeling pain or anger. I became someone who hid everything. I watched as my family died one at a time. I know I keep harping on it, but I know that’s where it began. When the walls began building themselves up was when I began to lose myself.

I’ve been to enough shrinks to know that when I start to lose myself I try to over control the things I still have some handle on. Like my relationship with Frankie became cold and unwelcoming. It wasn’t a safe haven for me anymore. In my head I knew she would leave somehow and I couldn’t control it. Yeah, I know I was full of shit, but when everything is messed up in your head these unrealistic thoughts are always crystal clear. So, I made it a self-actualizing prophecy. I shut down my heart and didn’t let her help me with my mourning period.

Chase lived with us while my brother’s paperwork was sorted out. Never knew how difficult death was on the rain forest. All those papers, signatures and so many lawyers getting their hands in the cookie jar. Frankie tried to help me make sense of it all, but like I said I shut down. She used to put papers in front of me and point to a line. I signed my name and she would put the next document in front of me. Chase liked her but he was in his own world as well. No matter how hard Frankie tried to help, we didn’t let her. She moved out a little while later. I think she knew I needed to do it on my own regardless of her being my life partner or not.

Next thing I knew the papers were finalized and the courts officially handed me Chase. Me. A cop, failed writer and villain chaser. A person, who is gay, being told you have a son legally, and you never gave birth to them, freaked me out. I never thought they would trust me to be responsible for another human being. There I was in the courtroom responsible for a child that had the same walls build up around his heart that I did. We’d both lived through the same torment, just a different perspective. You ever hold hands with someone and it felt like you had to, no emotion behind it, just emptiness? The first time Chase held my hand and we walked to the car as guardian and child, we were both empty. I love him now as much as then, but we were both suffering and nothing could break those walls down.

Since I couldn’t really control my situation with Chase, I controlled what I could. Sleep rarely came to me, so I dove deep into work all hours of the night. I would make sure Chase ate and got to his new school. He didn’t lack for anything he truly needed and sometimes, when I had a little extra cash, I would get something special for him. We rarely spoke at all during the first few months he was here. Nothing to say I guess.

I never ate either. Food always hit my stomach like a ton of bricks burying themselves in an acid pool. Once it was down, it came up. Maybe it was a mental thing, but I never had a stomach of steel like my brother. So, instead of dealing with the pain of vomiting, cramps, indigestion or whatever else – I just stopped eating. Frankie noticed it first but said nothing. The other girls yelled at me a lot. I just let the voices fade into nothingness. They start to sound like flies buzzing around your head. Frankie was the only voice I heard most of the time. She got me those canned shakes. Sometimes I remembered to drink one, sometimes I threw them up, but for her I tried.

I’ll admit the walls are still up, crumbling but still there. The day they began to fall was the day Chase crawled into my bed and finally let go. I was staring at the ceiling, thinking the millions of ways I could have saved my brother and his wife. The door opened and he padded across the floor, saying nothing. He lifted the blankets and climbed into bed. He slid over to me and put his head on my shoulder. I remember my shirt being wet with his tears as he finally let his feelings show. I kissed the top of his head and said nothing. Just wrapped him up in a hug and for the first time in what felt like ages, I fell asleep.

Since then, he’s grown a little more attached to me. He talks more and actually eats a full meal instead of pushing various items around his plate until I took it away. His eyes have more life to them as well, although I am not sure how much more they have to go to be normal. Does anyone really become normal after all this shit? What is normal anyway? Looking down at the images of the victims, I wonder if they thought they were normal. Were they doing normal things in their normal lives before something came along and made it abnormal?

Realizing the papers were on the table neatly sorted, I sit on the couch. Starring at images of mutilation, at horrific sites, I find I have no emotion towards them. Am I abnormal? I can see these things on a daily basis and nothing boils in my chest. I used to let all these emotions wrap around me, consume me, and now – nothing. I wait, I stare and nothing. Maybe it is normal to become desensitized to this sort of thing, but I wish I wasn’t. Maybe I would feel more alive if these images bothered me. All I see as I stare at them is a poor victim in the wrong place at the wrong time. I see individuals who had their lives changed by one decision they thought was a normal one. So again I ask what the fuck is normal.

Lying down on the couch, I place the photos on my chest. Maybe a closer look will allow me to see something, anything connecting them all together. Besides their appearance, nothing seems to jump out at me. All blonde, all blue eyes, all strangled and all are dead. Bodies cleaned of evidence. No sexual assault. No, nothing. I’m supposed to figure these things out yet, as I look at these images, it becomes increasingly possible I might never find the person responsible for their deaths. I’m not angry or upset. I’m almost indifferent, but I do worry about the perp still being on the street. It’s another irrational fear I’ve obtained over the years. Anything could hurt Chase, and I have to find a way to protect him from the bad guys. I love him with all of my heart and frankly, I have come to accept I need him as much as he needs me.

Man my head hurts just thinking about it. I mean this meaning of life crap, the destiny, fate, and normal or abnormal – what the fuck does it all mean? I’m sure everyone has been through this, where you literally over think shit that has no reason to be thought about at all. I mean hell; we all do what we have to do to survive right? Yet, here I am thinking about things I cannot control. Why? Because I want to control them. I need to feel in control.

Chapter Four

Coffee, sweet smelling and loving coffee. The one thing that I can always count on is the deliciously addicting warm liquid to quench my early morning thirst. Not to mention it keeps my ass awake all day considering all the restless nights I’ve had. If there was a way to stay awake, eliminating those nightmares, I would do it. Coffee just seems to quiet the brain for the daylight hours, which helps. My biggest concern is that of the creator of said brew. If it’s the mischievous little nephew of mine, I face a morning of sludge sliding down into the pit of my gut. If it’s not him, then I face Frankie and I’m always awkward around her. Neither possibility is really appealing at the moment.

“I know you’re awake,” Frankie softly utters, “Your nostrils flare at the smell of it, so don’t pretend you’re asleep. Get up or I pour it on your head.”

Eyes pop open to see a nice steaming pot of coffee in front of my face. Frankie moves it before I get a chance to fully register the pots location. “Better. Good morning.” She turns away and heads to the kitchen to pour the coffee into a mug. I’m all for having large mug but I do not drink it from the pot. My mother taught me better than that. I’d use a straw.

“Morning,” I rub the sleeplessness out of my eyes and force myself to sit up. I can hear Frankie in the kitchen fumbling around with the cabinet full of mugs.

“You still drink it the same?” I hear her hit two mugs together and curse as quietly as possible. The overflowing cabinet has mugs from all over the world, all double sized and most of them from family since gone. I haven’t been able to get rid of any of them.

“Yes,” swinging my legs over the edge of the couch the pain shoots up my back. I ought to remember how uncomfortable this thing is, but I am a glutton for punishment. Mindlessly, I rub the knot in my lower back as I prepare for the long day ahead.

“You should have come to bed,” she places the mug down on the coffee table and sits down next to me. “I didn’t want to wake you,” I reply. Her hand finds its way to the sore spot and she gently tries to massage out the pain.

“You wouldn’t have woken me. If you were concerned about something else,” she inhales deeply as if trying to find her thoughts, “that wouldn’t have happened.”

“It wasn’t that. I just didn’t want to wake you. That’s all.” The second her hand leaves my back, my skin feels cold. She reaches forward and hands me my cup of coffee. “Maybe you should have a professional take a look at that,” she sips her steaming mug. “It’s all good now, but thanks,” I lie.

“Do you have to work today?” I look up to see Chase in his pajamas with the feet attached. No matter how old he acts, every now and again he does something that reminds you he’s still a kid. As he stands there in his footy pajamas, I try to hide my laughter at the adorable sight.

“Yeah, little man. I have to work on this case.”

“Is it getting worse?” He climbs onto the couch with me, his eyes looking like he barely got any rest.

“Not so much worse as confusing the fu…”

“Watch your language.” Of course Frankie walks in right on cue.

“Sorry. It’s confusing me a lot kiddo,” I enjoy a sip of my precious liquid.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Call me little man and then call me kiddo?”

“Umm, I dunno. It’s just what comes out of my mouth.”

“Your Aunt Jazz is a bit of a nickname-aholic. Instead of one, you end up with whatever she can come up with.”

“Great. Can we just stick to those two then? Please?”

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. Bad memory.”

“No, you’re just old.” I cannot believe he just said that. Looking in his eyes, he knows something’s up. Before I can grab him for some much deserved tickle torture, he’s off running into Frankie’s arms. “Ha, you can’t catch me.”

“Chase, my dear little man. You’re in Frankie’s arms,” I lean back confidently.

“Yeah, so. She’s the safety zone,” he states calm as can be.

Sipping my coffee, I look back offer to him and smile mischievously,

“No, my dear little man, she’s worse than I could ever be.”

I see the change in his expression right away. He rolls his eyes up and sees Frankie smiling at him. In second he’s giggling and rolling around in her arms trying to break free. “Stop, that tickles,” he says through gasps and laugher. “It’s supposed to.”

“Please Aunt Frankie…” Everything stops. I just stare at Chase, then Frankie who looks like a deer in a set of headlights. She looks at me, a mixture of emotions oozing off her, but what they are I can’t tell.

“Is that okay?” Chase snaps me back to reality and to the situation at hand. “Is that okay?” He asks again fear rising in his voice.

“Is what okay?” I manage to squeak out. Maybe if I avoid the awkward situation it will go away.

“Not you, Aunt Jazz,” he replies simply.

There are moments when kids put you in your place. This is one of those moments. I’m at a loss to what to think, say or feel. Here’s a term of endearment he’s giving to the woman who would have been his other guardian. Chase wiggles out of Frankie’s arms and looks up to him with innocence filling his eyes. “Is it okay?”

“You can call me whatever you like, Chase,” she smiles and hugs him tightly. “Okay,” he smiles and then flops to the floor to play with his pajama feet. I’m met with silence. Frankie fumbles with her rings while I play with my coffee mug. What the hell do you say after your ex just gets called an aunt? I thought that title was reserved for the spouse of the aunt or uncle. “I’m just going to shower,” Frankie says cutting into the eerie silence. I simply nod as Frankie dashes to the bathroom. I look down at Chase, who’s smiling ear to ear, before grabbing the case notes on the table.

“I really like her,” Chase throws out to me. “I’m glad,” I absent mindedly throw back. I don’t understand why it bothers me that he wants to call her his aunt. I had several aunts growing up who weren’t necessarily relatives, but they were still given to those who were loved by my mom or dad. I don’t want to be thinking about this right now, what it means or doesn’t mean.

“She’s bad at video games,” he plops down next to me. I can feel his eyes on me, but I prefer to keep them on the page in front of me as if he might be able to see the torment in my eyes.

“She played video games with you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I couldn’t get her to play anything the entire time she lived here.”

“Well, I could see that. She’s horrible,” he concedes with a sigh. Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t contain my laughter. Chase smiles at me and I see the sincerity in his eyes. “I tried to teach her,” he offers.

“Some old dogs can’t be taught new tricks, Chase.”

“She fell asleep during the main alien battles. How can anyone sleep through the spaceships landing and me fighting them off?” His excitement for his games shows in his animated hand gestures.

“I have no idea, buddy. What time did you get to sleep?” I can hear my mother’s voice hidden in mine and it shakes me a bit. “After I helped Aunt Frankie into bed, I went to sleep,” he says as he fidgets. My mom used to say my brother did that when he was fibbing. She told me children are innocent so they tell fibs, adults lie because they know what they’re doing. I thought it was cute, but in essence a lie is a lie.

Leaning back in the couch, I look over my young nephew whose eyes are everywhere but on me.

“What time did you get to bed?” He looks at his hands, “I just told you.”

Taking a deep breath before letting my mother’s voice come out of my mouth again, I ask,

“The truth.”

Chase stares down at his footie pajamas and the carpet; he knows I’ve caught him.

“I waited for you to check on me. Aunt Frankie said you would be late, and I got worried.” His eyes finally meet mine and I see how small he feels. I can see his fear and it hits me hard.

Wrapping my arm around him, I pull him in for a hug. “I’m sorry about that. I had to check some things out before coming home. It wasn’t too late though, right?” He leans into me and his little arms wrap around my mid-section. “Next time I’ll call even if it’s really late, okay?” His head bobs up and down against my torso.

“You should have slept in your room,” he mumbles into my chest. I understand his concern for me being late, but this is not a subject I am prepared to talk to a seven year old about. “Chase, Frankie…”

“Aunt Frankie,” he cuts me off. Leaning back he looks at me with an attempt at a stern face. I want to laugh at the cuteness of it all, but he’s being sincere so I drop it.

“Aunt Frankie was sleeping and I didn’t want to wake her up,” just an innocent fib in protecting the child from the pain in the game of life. It’s a game I play very well and have only lost the battle once, but the war is far from over. In other words, when in doubt avoid the question altogether.

“You still love her,” he folds his arms across his chest. My brother used to do that when he was serious. Even when he was in his late thirties, still was a trademark of his.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I know I should tell him the truth, but how can one admit something out loud when they don’t admit it to themselves?

“Aunt Jazz, I love you very much, but you never see what’s right in front of you.” He sounds like a psychiatrist I know. “I’m supposed to listen to a young boy wearing long pajamas with attached feet?” I tickle him to make a point with my words. He slaps my hands away and the conversations playfulness is lost. “Funny, but I’m talking about how you lost Aunt Frankie because of me. That’s why you cry a lot at night.”

His eyes well up a bit and I realize this conversation is going to happen, with or without my permission. I understand why he feels this way, but that doesn’t mean there is an easy way to phrase why things happened.

“Nothing was because of you,” I run my fingers through his hair. It always calmed him down when he was a baby. He’s growing up too fast, and I find myself holding onto these innocent things as if they were lifelines.

“I showed up and a couple of months later she moved out, even before the court stuff was final.” He forces out, his hands in clenched fists.

“Yes, she did, but it wasn’t because of you honey.” He watches me carefully, almost begging me to continue talking. “She left because of me. Not because you came into our lives but because of how I handled myself then. I treated her very badly and that’s what happened. Nothing more, nothing less.” I listen careful and hear the water still running. I feel somewhat relieved but in the same token, I wish she had heard me. It would have been my mea culpa and all would have been forgiven. Maybe.

“She still loves you.”

“How do you know, Chase? It’s not a simple thing, love. It’s a complex emotion that can give you everything you ever wanted one second and tear it away in another. Sometimes it just isn’t enough.”

“I know mommy loved daddy. I know they would fight but always worked it out. That’s what people in love do.”

“Chase you were younger when they died…”

“I’ve heard you talking. I know they weren’t perfect, but they were happy. Aunt Jazz, if she didn’t love you why would she be here helping you? Why would she wear your favorite shirt to sleep in? Why would she make you coffee just the way you like it?

“Because she cares about me, but love is a strong word… time… it’s changed a lot and I can’t expect the feelings to still be there. So, please just let this be,” my voice cracks on the last sentence. I had been trying to hide all the built up emotion, but sometimes it squeaks out. I know he can see it, but I hope he won’t continue this line of questioning. I truthfully can’t handle it, not with her so close but so damn far away. We both lean back on the couch and Chase takes my hand in his. It’s a simple gesture, but one that almost causes the tears to fall furiously. I think I’m at the breaking point, but I don’t know how to handle that.

“Can I go to the park?” I rub my eyes gently, as if I can wipe the stress away with this simple action. I used to see my brother do it all the time, same with my mother. I guess between the rubbing of the eyes and placing my hands on my lower back, I have officially become my mother. Now all I need is for my hair to move a few inches back whenever I’m angry. That usually gets the point across pretty quick. Smiling slightly, I remove my hands from my face. “I would love to take you but I don’t have time. Maybe Aunt Frankie can take you.”

“She said she was busy today,” he once again looks like a kid with too much energy. All of the adult ideas and thoughts running through his brain a few moments ago must have run off for a juice box. “Then I guess today you get to play video games all day.” Looking back down to the paperwork in front of me, I once again try to concentrate. Based on his proximity to me, I know this discussion isn’t over yet.

“What about my detail?”

“What details?”

The boy is driving me to drink this early in the morning. Now I know why my mom let us watch weekend cartoons, it allowed her to actually have a nice hot cup of coffee. Mine’s already cold, I’ve had a really bad night and frankly I don’t want to talk about this to anyone anymore. Kids are amazing, but why do they talk so darn much! Chase’s hand pops into my eye line as he grabs the most horrific crime scene photo out of the bunch.