Love Undecided Page 6

  “Did you happen to check the front of the house to see if there were any other cameras there by chance?” I hate that I sound so unsure of myself and so meek.

  “I checked the entire exterior of the house, there weren’t any other cameras or anything else that was out of place or unusual.”

  “Thank you,” I lower my voice. “I really appreciate it.”

  His voice softens. “Anytime,” he says and hangs up. I hold on to the phone for minute trying to recapture that softness from before he disconnected.

  “Well?” Bauer stands in the doorway looking at me expectantly.

  “The rest of the outside has the all-clear.”

  “And he’s sure?”

  “He’s sure.”

  “Okay, if you’re good then I’m going to go try and get some rest. Unless you want me to stay.” He waggles his eyebrows at me.

  “Nope. I’m good. I’ve got my security alarm and you on speed dial.” I push him out the door, arm the security system, and close every blind in every window.

  Feeling exhausted, I sit on my bed and debate whether I want to take a shower before bed. Cringing at the thought of actually having to get in the shower, wash my body, wash my hair, dry my body and then dry my hair, I decide against it.

  It just sounds like so much effort.

  I don’t have enough energy to freak out and be clean. It’s either one or the other. So, I set my alarm clock, strip down, and crawl between the covers.

  Sleep totally escapes me as I try to figure about who has put me under secret surveillance and why. I go back through all my past clients from when I was working, all my exes from when I was dating, as many of my drunk fucks as I can remember, and basically anyone else I’ve come in contact with in the last five years or so. But come up empty.

  I can certainly think of plenty of people who don’t like me, but I don’t know if watching someone via remote camera is a sign that they don’t like you. Then again, I can’t really think of anyone who would have a reason to watch me via remote camera whether they liked me or not.

  Chapter 11

  Kat

  After a nearly sleepless night trying to figure out who the hell is recording my every move, I wake up late and almost don’t have time for my morning meditation. My favorite part of the day is my morning constitutional, and if I don’t get it, I’m a total bitch all day.

  I do some light yoga and water meditations in my hot tub, typically first thing in the morning just after the sun has come up. When everything is quiet, and the only sounds I hear are the hot tub on my deck and the waves of the ocean below.

  I start this morning, like every other morning, letting my body warm up, then modified yoga poses in the water to stimulate blood flow and positive energy in my body, then a floating soak, otherwise known as my morning meditation.

  It’s during the soak that I think I get the most benefit. I can literally feel everything slide off my body, everything that I don’t want to be there. I don’t think I ever realized how powerful the mind could be until I got cancer, started meditating, and recognized the transformation in myself and in my psyche. And so even though it’s hard to do, my morning meditation is totally worth it.

  When it works.

  Which it isn’t this morning.

  Sigh.

  Before the cancer, I was a runner, so it takes a lot of concentration and determination to get the same results, mentally and emotionally, from something so sedentary as a warm water meditation. And even though I technically have no evidence of disease once again, I’m still not cleared to do any kinds of strenuous exercise. I know what you’re thinking, but luckily sex doesn’t count as strenuous exercise.

  Not even my rough-n-tumble drunk fucks.

  I checked.

  As it is, I’m fortunate that I’ve been cleared to drive again after the brain surgery, and I just got that a couple weeks ago.

  I rush through my shower, then dress quickly in skinny jeans, a loose-fitting low-cut blouse, and stiletto ankle boots. I put my hair up in a messy bun and throw on some silver jewelry. I down my seventeen different pills, supplements, and vitamins for the morning with my coffee, and am out the door.

  I pull in to the precinct parking lot at nine-fifty am, pleased that I’m not running nearly as late as I thought I was. I grab my phone to text Brad, wanting that connection with him before I start my day. Then pause because I have no idea what to say.

  Of course I want my text to be witty and memorable, but there isn’t anything going on in my life right now that fits that description. And it needs to be something that doesn’t give the wrong idea. So I go with:

  Me: Thank you for all your help last night. You are a valued friend.

  I press Send before I have a chance to overthink it, but immediately realize just how stupid that text is.

  Valued friend? Who even talks like that?

  Plus, it’s such an obvious attempt to friend-zone him. I consider sending another text explaining this text, but that seems like I would be overdoing it. Maybe the text will be memorable because of its complete lameness. Hopefully he considers the source, me, and I head into the precinct with five minutes to spare.

  Chapter 12

  Kat

  Bauer is already at the precinct when I get there. He’s got coffee and a bagel waiting for me. I tell him I love him just a little bit for that, and he smiles his sexy smile back at me.

  Down, girl. We already have one big bundle of testosterone that we can’t handle. We don’t need another.

  We are working on developing a strategy for catching The Shower Stealer, the problem with that being neither of us really knows what his motivation is. His social media posts are just a collection of pictures and funny quips, no rantings of a crazy man, no manifesto, no inkling of motive. And, nothing is ever missing from the houses. It’s like he really just wants to take a shower and waste water with no real reasoning or rationale behind it. And, let’s face it, the worst kind of criminal to try and catch is the one with no rationale behind their crime.

  “Let’s go back through the files,” he says. “And see if anything jumps out at us.”

  I groan. I’m really starting to hate these files.

  “You know that I’m not really a detective, right? I’m a consultant. A really part-time consultant. Not some kind of lackey that you can force to sit here all day and play with files. This is your job.”

  “I can see where you might think that, but aren’t you supposed to be having some crazy intuitive feelings that solve this whole thing anyway? And not that I’m trying to boss you around,” he smiles. “But we’re partners on this, Kat, and partners stick by one another and help each other out. They don’t bail when the going gets tough.”

  “Partners stick together Kat, they don’t bail when the going gets tough,” I mimic his words back to him, feeling self-righteous and immature at the same time.

  At some point I’m going to have to find a way to rid myself of these juvenile responses when he pays attention to me. Where’s the grown woman who is cool, calm, and collected? The one that could freeze out an entire courtroom and focus only on getting her way and winning her case? She’s not the one in the room with this guy, I can tell you that.

  My phone beeps with a text from Brad in response to mine.

  Brad: You know I will always help you. Anytime. You doing okay today? Need anything?

  Me: I need a break in this stupid case we are working on.

  Brad: Which case?

  Me: Have you heard of the shower stealer?

  Brad: Been to every scene as soon as it was called in.

  Me: You’re kidding?!?

  Me: Oh, duh, of course you have. Well that’s what we are working on.

  Brad: You and Bates?

  Me: Bauer. Yes.

  Brad: I’ll come help.

  Me: You can’t come help.

  Brad: Why?

  “You gonna sit there playing around on your phone all day, Cookie, or are you going to hel
p me out here?” Bauer asks.

  Brad: Hello?

  Brad: You still there?

  “God, just give me a second to think,” I say. I’m just not sure if it’s in response to Bauer’s question or to Brad’s text.

  Bauer mumbles something under his breath in response that I don’t quite catch. Though I’m sure it was about me. And it wasn’t flattering.

  Me: I’m here. Don’t you have to work?

  Brad: I would be working.

  Brad: You at the precinct? I’ll be there soon.

  Shit. Fuck. Piss.

  Now what have I gotten myself into?

  “Hey, guess what?” I say to Bauer. “Brad is going to come help us with the case.” I take a drink of my coffee, and peek at him from over the rim of the cup. Not really wanting to see his reaction.

  “Who’s Brad?” he asks, without looking up from the file.

  “You met him last night. Brad Matthews. He’s with the fire department. He’s my, ah, ex.”

  “What do you mean help us with the case?” He looks up at me and he doesn’t look happy.

  “Well, he’s been to every scene, you know, ‘cause the fire department always responds to pretty much everything that’s called in. So, he’s seen it all.”

  “And how is that going to help, exactly?”

  I take another sip of coffee to avoid answering. Because I really don’t know how that’s going to help. Brad is really smart, but he’s not a detective. He’s a firefighter. Although, they have to investigate stuff all the time, like what starts a fire. But that’s not really the same as someone leaving water on for no reason. In fact, it’s almost the exact opposite, like fire and water.

  I laugh at my own stupid joke.

  Bauer gives me a stern look.

  “This had better be because he’s actually going to help, Cookie. I don’t have time to entertain some little firefighter who wants to play cop, ‘cause he’s got his panties in a bunch over his ex.”

  “He doesn’t want to play cop. And he doesn’t wear panties.” I hear a deep voice from the doorway.

  Brad.

  He’s in his uniform still, dark blue slacks, short sleeved SSFD button-down shirt, and SSFD ball cap. He looks good. His shirt pulls tight in all the right places, across his chest and arms. My heart does a little pitter pat and my vagina butterflies force themselves from temporary hibernation and charge forward, full speed ahead.

  How did he even get here so quickly? And then I see his pager and realize he must be on call and was close by when he texted me. The fire station is only a couple blocks from the precinct.

  Bauer sighs heavily and gives Brad a head nod.

  Brad nods his head in return.

  I look around for something to cut the tension with. A chainsaw, maybe?

  “Hey, thanks for coming. I think we can use all the help we can get,” I say to Brad.

  “Speak for yourself,” Bauer says.

  Brad sits at the table next to me and I show him the file I’m working with and the pictures.

  “We are obviously missing something big,” I say to Brad. “I mean, this is just evidence, and evidence always leads to a crime. I should be able to figure this out more quickly given all the criminals I’ve defended in the past. It’s just deductive reasoning and I am a master at that. Or at least I was before…”

  “You’ll get back there, it just takes time,” Brad says. He moves his arm as if he’s going to touch me.

  I want him to touch me.

  Even though the idea of it makes me tense up.

  But I’m still disappointed when he drops his arm back to his side.

  Bauer seems to accept that Brad is helping and starts listing out everything about each victim. Four in all so far. I stare at the board, willing my brain to come up with something, anything really that will move this case forward.

  “You don’t have the kids on the list,” Brad says.

  “What kids?” Bauer asks.

  “Well, if you are listing out the commonalities with each of the four families affected, they all have a twelve-year-old girl. And each of the bathrooms the guy picked were the ones the little girls used.”

  “That’s got to be it!” I say.

  “What’s got to be it?” Bauer asks.

  “What Brad said, it’s about the girls.”

  “How?” Bauer asks.

  “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be figuring out?” Brad asks Bauer.

  Bauer’s eyes close and he takes a deep breath, letting it back out slowly. Brad has what can only be described as a smirk on his face.

  “That is what the entire task force is trying to figure out, yes,” Bauer says, his mouth tight.

  “Task force? That sounds like a lot of people working on one thing,” Brad says.

  “Because one guy can put out a fire?” Bauer asks.

  Brad looks at Bauer.

  Bauer looks at Brad.

  I look between them both.

  “Hey, so,” I say, “an amnesiac walks into a bar. He asks, ‘Do I come here often?’.”

  I’m the only one who laughs.

  Brad’s phone rings. He pulls it from his pocket, I see on the screen that it’s Stacy.

  His girlfriend.

  “You should get that,” I say, turning my back toward him. I hear him sigh as he stands and walks to the other side of the room, answering his phone along the way. I can’t hear much of what he’s saying, just little snippets. But I find myself leaning toward that side of the room anyway, to try and hear more.

  “Glad you’re home… working… happy to… of course.”

  Bauer looks at me, one eyebrow raised.

  Man, I wish I could do that. Almost as much as I wish I could wink.

  “It’s his girlfriend,” I say loudly. Brad turns back toward us as he’s finishing his conversation. “… See you soon,” he says and hangs up the phone. He obviously heard me tell Bauer who was on the phone.

  “You have to go, I take it?” I ask when he hangs up, hating that my voice sounds so bitchy, but still unable to control it.

  “Don’t stay on our account,” Bauer adds. “If your girlfriend needs you.”

  “Stacy is an elementary school teacher,” Brad says. This, I already knew so he must be saying it for Bauer’s benefit. “She was out of town and just returned to work today. A little girl was kidnapped the other day, turns out it was one of her students,” he says. “She wants me to come talk to the other kids in the class and reassure them. They are all a bit freaked out, understandably.”

  “How nice,” I say. Clearly still in bitch mode if the tone of my voice is any indication.

  “What’s a fireman going to say about kidnapping?” Bauer asks snidely.

  Apparently, we are giving Brad the 1-2 punch. I like that Bauer is on my side.

  “Probably the same thing a detective would say,” Brad says with a sigh. Only he sounds tired now, and not as combative as earlier. “I’m going to go talk to the class before we get called out again.” He motions to the pager on his belt.

  “Thanks for the help,” I say lamely.

  “Yeah, thanks,” Bauer says.

  Brad looks at me, then turns and walks out the door with a wave of his hand. I feel a little empty now that he’s gone.

  “I need sugar,” I say, standing suddenly. “Want something from the vending machine?” I ask Bauer.

  “Skittles.”

  “Skittles? You don’t seem like a Skittles kind of guy.”

  “Hey, don’t knock the rainbow of fruit flavor until you’ve tried it,” he says.

  “Oh, I’ve tried it. But after they swapped out lime flavor for green apple, skittles totally lost it for me,” I tell him.

  “Funny, that’s when they became perfect for me.”

  I laugh at him and head to the vending machines. I stop to read to the BOLOs board on my way; a leftover habit from my criminal defense days when I was always looking to see if a past client was at it again.

  One po
sting in particular stands out at me.

  MISSING! 12-YEAR-OLD GIRL.

  Sofia Carter - last seen leaving Sail Point Middle School wearing blue jeans, a white shirt with ruffled sleeves, and red tennis shoes. Answers to Sofia. Caucasian, shoulder length straight Blonde hair, blue eyes, 4′9″, 92lbs, age 12.

  My pinky finger starts to spasm.

  Age 12.

  Holy shit.

  I rip the flyer from the board and race back to our office.

  “Look! Look! Look!” I thrust the flyer in Bauer’s face. He scans it quickly.

  “Think this is the one from your ex’s girlfriend’s class? She hasn’t been missing very long,” he says, frowning.

  “This has got to be the girl from Stacy’s class. How many twelve-year-olds go missing around here? It’s got to be him. The Shower Stealer.”

  “You think there’s a connection here?” Bauer asks.

  “Fuck yeah, I think there’s a connection here. Plus, it makes sense with what Brad said. It can’t be coincidence that a twelve-year-old girl is missing at the same time that twelve-year-old girls’ bathrooms are being broken into. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

  “Is this just a feeling? Or is it a feeling?”

  “What difference does it make - we’ve got nothing else. It’s a FEELING! Stop bullshitting and start policing, Bauer!”

  Chapter 13

  Brad

  I leave the precinct to head toward the elementary school. Once I’m in the truck, I radio in to the station to let them know where I’ll be. The station has a large SUV that we use about town, or when the Chief has to be somewhere that is non-emergency.

  Or, like today, when I want to check on Kat.

  Or, apparently, visit Stacy Hunter’s class.

  A feeling of dread comes over me as I pull up to the school. The kids are still at recess and Stacy is in the yard with them. She must have been looking for my station car, because she waves as soon as I pull up. The kids all run to the fence to say hi. I steel my shoulders and make my way on to school grounds.

  “Hey hon,” she says. “We are so happy you are here, aren’t we kids?”

  The kids chime in with little cries of ‘yes’ and scramble over one another to reach the gate where I’ll be entering the playground from.