Darrin
There have been a slew of robberies in the Hilldale area of Eden, an arid section to the south, and the chief has assigned me the case. It's interesting that the robber doesn't go for the typical things. He or she steals food and clothing mostly. A television and laptop have been stolen, but only from one of the houses. Since the clothing taken was menswear, I'm going to assume the thief is male or maybe identifies that way.
"Size nine shoe..." I talk to myself quietly.
I've also pulled up missing persons reports of any suspected runaways. I picture in my mind a teenage boy, scared, maybe angry, hungry, and needing to stay connected hence the tv and computer. But why didn't he take jewelry or anything that could be sold? He's just taking essentials. He'd need cash if he were to relocate. Either someone else is helping him or he's still in the area. The tv and laptop haven't shown up at any of the pawn shops.
Then a thought occurs to me, one I keep silent on.
"Size nine," I repeat. It matches. I peeked at the file, using that wonderful peripheral vision I have.
Am I jumping to conclusions? I dare not tell the chief my suspicions. For starters, he'll take me off the case faster than a greased cheetah. And I could always be wrong.
A cadet comes and tells me there's been another one, and I grab a notepad and head out. This one is more serious. A handgun was taken.
I'm questioning a neighbor. He gave the description of black hair and dark glasses. I have to fight to keep my face from giving anything away.
"Thank you, sir. We'll keep in touch if we have any more questions."
"Yeah. Sure. Can I go now?"
I nod and proceed into the house. The owner is seated on a small couch, and it's...
He looks like he wants to crawl into a hole. I'm not sure if he's undercover right now, so I remind myself to play it cool. I go and have a seat next to him.
"Hello, sir, my name is Detective Sheie. Would you mind answering a few questions for me?"
Marco smirks and lets out a little laugh. "Why, hello there, Detective Sheie. I'm Detective Barnett." He laughs louder at my expression as I roll my eyes and slap my notepad down on my lap.
I let out a puff of air. "This is your house?"
He wipes under his eyes from laughing so hard. "Yeah. I couldn't stay in that sh*t apartment forever, right?"
"I guess. But how the f--k did you let your house get robbed?"
His smile drops. "I was targeted."
The gun.
"Darrin, I don't know if you've reached this conclusion, but I think our cases are connected. I've been trying to infiltrate Drake Goth's circle, if he has one."
I pause. "Size nine."
"Huh?"
"That's the size of the shoes that were stolen from someone, and at each robbery, we find the same size footprints, if we find any, that is."
"Okay, but what does that have to do with... You've sneaked a peak at the files, haven't you?"
"The man butchered my husband, so yeah." I don't think the chief would like hearing I snooped, though.
Don't sit there and act like I meant something to you. "It's a dream come true. Right now, Mike's getting back into the modeling business."
"I guess that's... good." He's making this awkward. Why does it have to be? Then, he changes gears. "Here's what might be a clue for the case, Darrin. Track down a furry named Kyle Coffman. I was starting to make contact, but I think that's blown up at this point. So, go ahead and do it your way."
"And what charges should I use? You know that if the chief sniffs out that I'm working on stuff linked to the Drake Goth case then that's it for me coming anywhere near this stuff."
Marco shrugs. "Charge him with the robberies. Be wrong. But only wrong after questioning." He smirks. "That is, if you can do something below that super cop mentality you get."
I scowl. But this forbidden fruit is too juicy to ignore.
He sighs. "At any rate, it's back to the damn desk for me. Your father-in-law is going to want to squeeze any drop of a clue he can get outta me. He won't let it go. Not that I blame him." He lets out a short laugh. "You know, I may tip him off just watch him foam at the mouth for wanting to catch this bastard. Haven't seen him this hungry since Landgraab."
I keep my face passive. Marco suspects the evidence we had on Michael wasn't faked by the cop under Drake's payroll. He wasn't pleased when we had to throw out loads of stuff thanks to that dirty cop. "Well, honestly, I don't blame him a bit. I'm really quite jealous, actually." Ethan gets to pursue whatever case he wants while continuing to get the job done for his clients.
Oh, if only I could go after Drake. I let myself fantasize about wrapping my hands around the man's throat as he begs for his life.
Marco leans in and speaks low and quietly in my ear, "Let me know when you decide to go rogue."
Braydon McCullough is probably one of the sweetest guys I've ever met. He really acts like he understands how much hard work people put into things. AND he offered me a job!
He acted like he hadn't heard me come in as he played the piano. He didn't even look up. I stood there, waiting for him to say something, still hurting from missing the night I'd had planned for the two of us. Just before I decided to ignore him like he was ignoring me, though, he spoke.
He stopped playing. "Remember when Benjamin was born? We decided that staying at home is your job, Bella. Who's going to watch him if you get a job, hm? Are you going to put him in a daycare? You shouldn't if you don't have to, and you don't have to."
He chuckles. "I'd be surprised if you didn't. I'm afraid you've found my weakness, Isabella."
Don't watch him, Isabella, I scold myself.
"What seems to be the problem?" I ask in what I hope is a professional way. Braydon doesn't stop me or wonder what I'm doing over here. His eyes almost say, 'well this is new.'
------------------------
Isabella
I'll never forget how Kade was when I got home that night.
"Feeling better now?" His voice held a nasty sneer to it.
My heart rate increased. "I beg your pardon?"
"I said-"
"I heard you."
"Well, you were acting all pissy, so I wondered if you felt better now."
"Oh, I was acting 'all pissy?'"
"Yes. You'd made me wish I hadn't have come home."
My chest ached. "Well, sorry you had to come home to do something other than sleep." I paused. "And for that matter, what stopped you?" I meant what stopped him from sleeping.
He kept playing. "I was too mad to sleep." His fingers stopped. "I don't understand how you got so mad when all I was doing was asking for a little help around here."
I glared at him as he started back up with the little doodle of a song. "A 'little help?' What do you think I do all day? Sit around and eat bonbons while watching soap operas?"
He shrugged. "Yeah. Kind of. I'm the one bringing in the money, so you could at least-"
"Well, not anymore. I'm getting a job." I only had the interview at this point, but I'd decided that if I didn't get the job at the gym, I'd go for something else.
He still hadn't turned around. "No, you need to stay home."
"Why?"
"My mother can watch him."
"Your mother is old and feeble. You complained of how hard it is to keep up with him. How in plum do you think your mom can do it?"
"I don't know, Kade. Lots of kids go to daycare. I have to get out of this house before I lose my mind."
Then he said it. I can't believe he said it. "No woman of mine needs to get a job."
I could've slapped him. "What century are you living in?"
"Oh, don't go there with me. What I mean is that I'm going to make it big. It's only a matter of time. You don't need to work, so why bother starting?"
"Well, it's been years, and you haven't made it yet. I'm getting a job, Kade." I stomped up the stairs.
He slept on the couch that night, and the next day, I got the job at the gym.
I love it here. I get to wear what I want being the receptionist and all as long as it's what they call 'comfort professional.' Today, I'm in my favorite pink shirt and black shorts.
Braydon walks in from the spa section, probably from his office before that, and I glance up and smile to let him know that although I have a new task, I'm still paying attention to the old one. I'd even recently restocked the drink tray.
He sees I'm waiting for him to talk. "How's it going? Do you need help clarifying anything?"
It's not a hard job. I greet people and answer the phones. I make appointments for the trainers. I use the little tablet to run transactions when people pay their membership fees. Benjamin is in kindergarten now, and he goes to Mom's in the afternoons.
At work, I actually start getting a little bored. Braydon, who doesn't want me to call him Mr. McCullough even though he's my boss and that sounds more boss-like, has given me a new task today to see how I might handle it. I'm putting something together that will help digitally organize the membership listing, how much they owe, etc. I don't know how he's run the place without something like this in place already.
His work attire nearly made me faint the first time I saw him in it. I had no idea a person could even be that muscular. Of course, I now understand why. He's his own poster child for the gym.
I make about five or six different typos when he stops and looks like he wants to talk about something. Ignoring them for now, I look up again.
"It's going great." Please don't walk around the counter and see the many errors I just made. I know his name isn't Nicholas Bicep; it's Black. And I have no idea how that scramble of numbers ended up in that column. Braydon makes a great boss. He's very hands-off unless something needs correcting, letting the employees do the jobs they're good at. If someone didn't know any better, he or she might think that he's just another trainer since that's what he does most of the time.
Which may explain why his books are a mess. He says he has an accountant come in twice a year to put things in order, but they really are in disarray.
I continue, "I am finding a few things, though."
He never calls me 'Bella' or 'Izzy' like some have. It's always Isabella.
"Could I help? Let me take a look." He starts walking around the counter.
My eyes widen. "No!" I gasp. "I mean..." I quickly backspace over 'bicep.' "My, uh, fingers slipped a second ago."
He stands far enough back so that he's not really looking over my shoulder, but I'm still hyper-aware of everything he does. "Yeah, I guess Nick wouldn't owe several thousand."
Plum! Of all the lines to focus on. "Yeah," I reply lamely.
I can hear the smile. "I'll let you get back to it, but I'll be right over there if you have any questions."
"Okay." I take a deep, cleansing breath when he goes into the next room.
I'm not intimidated really. It's just he's my boss and just saw a very strange screwup on my part. It's a wonder he's letting a lowly receptionist do this at all, but I've always been good with numbers.
I caught myself once doing just that. Honestly, it's fascinating watching him. I'd started wondering which one was the machine.
When is his next appointment? In other words: how long is this going to last? He doesn't always use that machine, preferring to test each one in turn, but that one gives me the best view. Not for another two hours. I want to bang my head on the keys.
As it is, my hands shake just enough to make the operation of the mouse much more annoying.
Stop it! He's like a plumbing god of the gym over there.
I'm married to Kade. He's a good guy. Well, not so much lately, but he's just adjusting. I love my job. I love working more than I thought I would.
But this gym really is going to go under if some changes aren't made.
I hear a member complaining to Braydon. She wants to quit. No! Don't! Without thinking, I get up.
As I pass through the door, I hear him say, "Well, I'm very sorry to hear that, Mrs. Elmhurst."
She replies, "I've tried everything this gym offers, and I'm still not getting the results I was promised. I'd told myself that if I wasn't at least a size nine in six months, I'd go somewhere else."
Looking at her, I think she looks a little pale. "Well, tell me the things you've tried."
She lists off a few things, and I hear about her self-imposed diet. Bingo.
"Have you tried one of our diets, Mrs. Elmhurst? For a small fee, you could speak with one of our licensed nutritionists." Do they get a license? "I really recommend it because the things they know could surprise you. I know they surprised me when they said I actually wasn't get enough fat in my diet. How surprising is that? But it was the type of fat that made the difference." I pause. "When can I set you up an appointment?"
She thinks for a moment. "I suppose I'm free next Tuesday."
I smile. "Wonderful! Come with me and I'll see who's available." I lead her to the reception desk, praying I didn't just get fired for not 'staying in my lane.' I'm already working on the books; now I just tried to be a saleswoman.
After getting her the appointment set up, I rush back to where Braydon is to apologize.
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