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ONE
I’m Not Crazy
JASMINE
There’s a ringing in my ears, and a heavy weight on top of me is making it hard to breathe. I cough out a breath, then gasp, and the heaviness at my back rolls off and moves me onto my back. My eyes flutter open, and I find the kindest aqua-blue eyes filled with worry looking down on me. The man’s tousled blond hair is in disarray from dodging bullets and taking me down with him, making him look incredibly handsome. It makes me think that I’d want to wake up next to him for the rest of my life.
Good gracious! What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve just been shot at and all I can do is stare at the detective who saved me like he’s the last ooey-gooey caramel-filled chocolate in the box and I want it.
“Zeke! You all right?” another man calls out as he approaches, crouching low, gun still in hand, even though I’m sure the car that drove by left in a hurry.
“Yeah, but Jasmine, here, she looks a little stunned,” Zeke, my hero, tells his buddy. Slowly, Zeke places a hand under my shoulder and helps me into a sitting position. Another police officer is on his haunches and hands me my tote bag. He’s super cute too, but nothing as beautiful as Detective Zeke.
“Let’s get her back inside,” the policeman says.
“Right,” Detective Zeke responds and gets me to my feet. That’s when I notice a sea of officers, all on guard, watching Zeke and me. Detective Thorne is a few feet away.
“It seems you’re right, Miss Belfour. Someone is trying to kill you,” Detective Thorne says. He flanks me on one side, taking me gently by the elbow, while Detective Zeke has an arm around my waist, holding me steady.
“She’s terrified, Caleb. Let’s get her into my office,” Zeke says. Detective Thorne stops in his tracks, and he and Zeke do this staring thing. It’s like they’re wordlessly having a full-blown conversation.
In a decisive tone, Detective Thorne says with a smile, “Your call.” Then I hear a low whistle from behind from the police officer who came to rescue us.
“Here we go again,” the cop says, looking up to the sky in apparent silent prayer.
I finally find my voice and ask Zeke, “What’s happening?”
“Don’t worry, Jazzy, I’ve got you,” Zeke tells me. It’s not the answer I was expecting, yet I feel relieved that Zeke’s not handing me off to someone else. Up till now, he’s the only one who didn’t think I was losing my marbles.
* * *
Back inside and sitting in Zeke’s office, which, by the way, looks like a technical geek’s dream house, I’m sipping the coffee one of his partners got for me. Alex is the first on the scene, and based on the conversations between Zeke, Caleb, and Alex, they have another man on their team named Damian who will be joining them.
“Damian’s back this afternoon. We’ll catch him up in the morning,” Caleb announces. On their insistence, I stopped called them “Detective.” They’re just Alex, Caleb, and Zeke to me now. I’ve been upgraded to Jaz or Jazzy.
As soon as I’m settled in Zeke’s office, Caleb and Alex take off back down to the street to examine the evidence. Even as we were leaving, the police were blocking off the street and putting up tape. I’m not sure what they’re looking for, but based on Caleb’s description, there’s some serious clue finding to be had.
“We’ll be a while,” Caleb tells Zeke. “I’m leaving Jaz in your hands.” They exchange looks, then Zeke comes out from behind his desk and sits in a chair closer to where I am.
“How are doing?” he asks, reaching over to take my hand.
“I’m not sure.” I shake my head. “Why would anyone want to hurt me? None of this makes any sense. I’m a schoolteacher. I deal with seven-year-old kids.” I get up, set the mug down, and pace the room. “Even the parents have been wonderful. I get along with my coworkers. I’m too busy to associate with my neighbors, except for Mrs. Dickson, and that’s only because we do an afternoon tea on Sundays. Her kids live farther away, and she sort of adopted me as her own. She FaceTimes with my mom and everything. I have no student loans or any debts. Well, except for the Visa card. I mean, if the worst thing I do is buy pretty shoes every now and then, and that’s enough to make someone want to kill me, then I guess I deserve it.” I throw my arms out in despair. “They must have the wrong girl. Not that anyone should get, uh…dead, but this doesn’t make any sense at all.”
I’m getting emotional again, but the last thing I want to do is cry in front of a complete stranger, especially since he’s the hottest guy I’ve ever seen and I’m an ugly crier. Needing to pull myself together, I turn away and face the pale blue wall, crossing my arms over my chest.
Suddenly, I feel big hands on my shoulders pulling me back until I’m braced against his chest. A solid arm comes across my chest, cradling me against him. Zeke’s being super gentle with me. I’m not sure if this is how the police normally reassure the victim of a crime or not, but I don’t care. I wish I could stay in his arms forever. This is the first time in a very long time that I haven’t felt alone. Everyone I love has moved on for one reason or another, and so they should. They deserve the best, and I want nothing but happiness for them, but it’s been lonely. His low quiet voice vibrates huskily in my ear. “I know this is scary, but I swear to you, you’re safe here. And I’m going to make sure it stays that way. We’re going to get to the bottom of this.”
It’s not what he says, but the way he says it that helps calmness spread through me.
“Thank you,” I murmur. I turn to face him. “I guess the bright side to all this is that I know I’m not losing my mind. I’m not crazy.”
A smile emerges, showing me his pearly white teeth and a glint in his eye. “Very true, Jazzy. You’re not crazy.”
TWO
Protective Custody
ZEKE
