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Prologue
Shots Fired
Zeke
“Alex called and is on his way in,” Caleb tells me, and hands me the extra cup of coffee he brought in with him.
“Java, huh? You must really need your coffee this morning,” I joke, which earns me a wry smirk.
“I think I have to move. My neighbor is driving me insane,” Caleb confesses, shaking his head. “The woman needs to be wrapped in Bubble Wrap. She walks around completely oblivious to anything around her.”
“You’re going to move because of that? Just ignore it. I wouldn’t give up a house like yours because of that. And if you’re selling, I’m buying,” I tell him. Caleb’s place is fucking cool. Ever since we hung out one night, I’ve been looking for a place with the same kind of character.
“Excuse me. The police officer told me to come up here and speak to a Detective Thorne,” a gorgeous, young, fair-skinned, auburn-haired beauty with the most exquisite green eyes says to the two of us.
“I’m Detective Thorne,” Caleb announces. “How can I help you?”
“This is going to sound insane, but I think someone is trying to kill me,” the woman says, a pleading look in her eyes. “It’s crazy, I know.”
She’s agitated and upset. I pull out a chair. “Have a seat. What’s your name?” I ask as she takes a seat and I sit down next to her.
“Jasmine. My name is Jasmine Belfour.”
“Miss Belfour—”
“Jasmine, please. Only my second graders call me Miss Belfour.”
“You’re a teacher, then,” Caleb confirms.
“Yes, at St. Matthew’s.”
“So, what makes you think that someone’s trying to kill you?” Caleb cuts to the chase. I can feel her wince when he said the word “kill.”
“Well, uh, last week I was on my way in to work from the parking lot, and a car came right at me. I managed to get out of the way, just barely. Then two days ago, I walked into my place and smelled gas. I rushed to the kitchen and found the gas burner on.” She turns her head in my direction. “I never, ever, forget to check my stove. Ever,” she says emphatically. “And today, I swear someone was following me. I got so scared that I jumped into a crowd and raced over here in the first cab I found.”
Caleb doesn’t seem convinced, and he could very well be right, but she sure looks freaked out about it all. “It is possible, though, that you might have left your stove on, however unlikely?”
“I suppose,” she murmurs.
“And possibly you’ve been rattled about a bad week of coincidences and thought someone was following you?” Once again, Caleb’s being gentle, but pointing out a possibility.
I see her deflate. She’s given up on even discussing it.
“Thank you for your time, Detectives.” She stands and begins to walk away. Caleb turns to go back to his office. I, on the other hand, chase after her down the stairs, catching up with her at the last step.
“Jasmine. Hold up,” I call to her. I’m entranced by how her head turns and her curls bounce around her heart-shaped face, a single tear on her cheek that she brushes away. I don’t know what to say. I’m at a loss, but I know that I don’t want her to leave this way.
“I know how I sound, Detective. Crazy!” She throws out a hand.
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” I say, hoping to calm her down. I cautiously take a step forward. “Let me drive you home. We can talk some more.”
It’s like she doesn’t hear me and begins to rant. “I’ve lived here all my life. I’ve never hurt anyone and can’t imagine why anyone would want to hurt me. I love my job, and I have really good friends, although Monica moved away to California for a job of a lifetime, and Macey got married and moved out of state because that’s where her husband was transferred. Still, I love them, and they love me. The kids love me. Their parents are great. My parents retired to Florida over a year ago, but they wouldn’t have an enemy in the world.” She finally takes a breath. “So, why? Why me?” She looks like she’s about to burst into tears.
“You may be right. Something may be very wrong. Let me take you home, and we’ll talk about it,” I encourage, then take her by the hand and walk her out of the station.
We’re on the sidewalk when a car slows down as it makes its approach. Call it gut instinct or just sheer luck, but I tackle Jasmine to the ground, covering her with my own body, just as gunshots ring out.
“Shots fired!” I hear Alex shouting as he runs toward us, gun drawn.
