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A cop with a donut in his hand—just kidding, he had a manila folder. Though it would have been more exciting if he had a donut.
“Uh, yeah. His new office is down there.” He rolled his eyes and pointed just past me.
Why was everyone so annoyed with him? What the hell was I getting myself into? I wondered as I walked down to his office.
It was an old wooden door with a fuzzy screen that had the name scratched off. I guessed this guy didn’t want to be found. I knocked, and took a few steadying breaths before I heard him.
“Come in.”
And then I saw him.
First thing I did was wish I had changed my clothes. Or did something with my hair. But as it had it, I was in scrubs with blood stains on the hem of my shirt, my hair an awful mess of a bun; and he was leaning on his desk in slacks, a vest, and a crisp white dress shirt. In the face, he did look like Don Flack. But better; his jaw line was harder, his hair even more wavy and finger-combable—a beautiful brown color. His eyes, even in the dim lighting, were obviously gray and intense.
“Hello?”
Goodness. He asked me something. What was it?
“Oh, I’m Rose Camden.”
His eyes widened in shock and then his face softened in understanding. He set down the folder he was holding and stood up. Oh boy, he was so tall and imposing. He damn near took up the entire room. Well, his aura did. He was built like a son of Atlantis or something; broad shoulders, strong arms…wait, he had asked me something again.
“Are you alright, Miss Camden?”
“Oh, uh—in theory. You can call me Rose. I just came in to make that statement. Though I’m not sure how much help I will be. The whole thing is kind of a blur, and I haven’t really been myself since. Okay, I’m rambling.” I laughed nervously, but my throat was so closed up with nerves it was hard.
The look he gave me was one of amusement and something else I couldn’t place. I just tried to avoid his eyes, because they were so damned captivating. The kind that literally make your stomach become a world class gymnast, flipping all over the place. Instead, I looked at the deep ridge of his brow, and the sharp definition of his jaw. But he looked right in my eyes and I couldn’t look away. He was just so…
“That’s understandable. Why don’t you sit down?” He gestured to the chair across from his desk.
Once I did, I looked around a little bit. There were some open boxes, and the place was pretty bare. I wondered why; he seemed to have enough personality.
He leaned in front of me on the desk. I clutched my purse strap and looked up at him. That was when I noticed how he was looking at me; I mean, my body. It wasn’t much, I was in shape, but my hips didn’t match my small frame. That was all I had going for me, since I was an average B cup.
I managed to stare back at him, not knowing if I should just start talking. But he didn’t seem to want to look away either. It was like we were in a standoff or something.
“You stare a lot.” He broke the silence.
I swallowed nervously. “Sorry. You’re just good looking. For a detective, I mean. Usually they’re…never mind.” I tended to ramble and have no filter when I was nervous. Obviously.
“Okay then. Well, twenty-four hours ago, I was a regular cop. But look, let’s get this statement down while you’re in the talking mood.” His grin was more to himself, and made this slight dimple appear in his left cheek. The odd swelling feeling in my body was weird, to say the least.
“Okay.” I nodded with a slight smile.
He walked around his desk, and I could breathe better for sure. But it wafted his scent my direction and I nearly got up to sniff him. Goodness, it was like rough cologne mated with his natural scent and made an entirely new being. I had a keen sense of smell too, part of the job as well. It helped to know the difference between sour urine and salty urine—one was liver failure; the other was simple dehydration. I got off my mental tangent and focused on him again. He got out a pen and pad and looked at me expectantly.
“No tape recorder?” I tried to make a joke.
“Not this time. I just need an initial statement. When I hear more from the ME and the criminologists do some shit with their degree, I’ll see what we’re dealing with.”
My eyes go wide as I blink at him. “What…what could we be dealing with? That stuff on the news could be true? Because I was following the story since that first body turned up and—”
“Rose,” he held up his hand and stopped my rambling. I blushed deep with embarrassment, thinking I annoyed him or something. “I don’t want you to stress yourself out. You look like you’ve had enough to deal with today.” His eyes drew down to my scrubs. I nervously crossed my ankles and sat up straighter. At least I was wearing foundation. The rest of me…I was sure he had more beautiful women throwing themselves his way. I knew I needed to stop st
aring at him like there was even a sliver of a chance…
“Right. Sorry.” I took a deep breath.
“Okay, so I was walking Parker, my Lab. And all of a sudden, he goes crazy and runs down this um, tunnel thing? I don’t know. When I get there, he’s barking down these two guys. When I get there, the victim I guess is like on his knees and he’s begging or something and the other guy is in a dark blue hoodie; more navy like, and he has a silver gun. Looked like a .380 ACP.”
