South Island PD: Dark Blue Part 30

She tried not to think about how Sanders had gotten away with abusing his wife with no consequences. The idea of him getting away with this too was sickening.

There wasn't a doubt in her mind that his failure to act the night before had been due to his dislike of Jackson.

"f.u.c.k," Jackson groaned.

"What?" Belle's gaze snapped to his face, which looked a shade paler than it had seconds ago.

"Don't think those beignets are gonna stay down. Maybe you were right."

He looked and sounded so miserable.

Elijah was already reaching for a plastic basin, which left Belle to sit empty-handed and wonder again how drastically Jackson's life would be reshaped by what had happened.

For the first time Jackson could remember, it was hard to be alone with Belle. He felt his own mortality like a stone in his shoe, and it made everything uncomfortable even being with her.

She was beautiful and perfect, just like she'd been the day before, and the day before that. In contrast, he was a b.l.o.o.d.y, puking mess confined to a hospital bed.

He didn't like the way the tables had turned, or the glaring difference between them. Things were too uncertain to bear, and yet, he had to.

It was almost lunchtime and she hadn't left his hospital room. She'd slept like s.h.i.+t on a vinyl chair and the circles beneath her eyes seemed to get darker by the minute. Officers from the department had already come by to ask him questions, and the doctor had evaluated his wound. When Jackson had pressed him, he'd said that he could go home in a couple days as long as there were no signs of infection.

He could tough out a couple more days in the hospital it was afterward that he was worried about. When the wounds healed, would his leg work as well as it had before? It'd taken two bullets and one of them had gotten stuck. There might be nerve damage.

It was too soon to tell whether he'd be shackled with a lifelong consequences.

He hoped to f.u.c.k he wasn't, because the idea made him want to vomit again. He'd worked too hard and overcome too many disadvantages to lose the job he loved over a physical injury.

"Jackson?" Belle sat in a chair she'd pulled up close to the bed. "Elijah texted and said his mom is planning to swing by with lunch."

It was embarra.s.sing, being babied that way by someone else's mother in front of Belle. But he knew Lorraine Bennett well enough to know that she wouldn't be talked out of coming.

"Okay."

"She seems really nice. And the food she brought last night was good."

"She's a great cook. Since she'll be coming by soon, why don't you go home?"

Belle frowned. "Is my company getting old or are you just trying to look out for me?"

"I'm fine, Princess." He tried to inject levity into his voice, but it'd been raspy ever since he'd woken up after the surgery he had the breathing tube to thank for that. "Get a shower and some sleep. It's not like I'm on my deathbed."

He could only hope she'd take the bait and leave go take care of herself. Seeing her miserable for no reason was eating at his conscience, and he didn't like being showcased in such a pathetic light in front of her.

The pain medications they had him on helped him to bear the embarra.s.sment, but he felt it getting worse when the doses began to wear thin. He could only imagine what s.h.i.+t he'd feel like when he was out of the hospital and off the brain-fogging drugs.

"I'm tired and I'm not at my freshest, but I don't want to leave." She touched his hand, her fingertips sweeping over his knuckles. "Would you want to if the situation were reversed?"

h.e.l.l no, he wouldn't. But that was irrelevant.

"I'm just gonna sleep anyway. At least go grab a shower. You won't miss anything."

Her frown deepened, then wavered. "Okay, but I'll be back afterward. Is there anything you want me to bring you?"

"No."

She stood and pressed her soft, silky lips against his jaw. Despite all odds, her breath smelled sweet when it hit his cheek.

Something inside his chest tightened as he breathed in her breath and the fading scent of her shampoo. Things had been going so d.a.m.n perfectly before this. Why did s.h.i.+t have to hit the fan now, of all times?

His regret was almost as overwhelming as his desire for her.

Twenty-four hours ago, he'd been contemplating how soon she might be ready to hear that he loved her. Now he was being forced to worry about whether he'd be able to keep down his lunch and how soon he'd be able to walk again.

It was bitterly sobering, and when she walked out, he felt as if something precious had been ripped right out of his hands.

Something broke inside Belle during the drive from the hospital to her apartment. Emotional walls came crumbling down, exposing raw nerves. In the privacy of her car, she cried.

The tears that rolled down her cheeks were tears adrenaline had kept at bay the night before. They'd built up, compounding interest throughout the rough night and morning.

At least she'd managed to hold it together in front of Jackson. The last thing he needed was hysterics on top of everything else. She needed to get it all out of her system now, before she returned to the hospital.

Her eyes were still wet by the time she reached her apartment complex's parking lot, but no one was out to see and there were only a few vehicles in the lot. Most of her neighbors were at work, just as she would've been if she hadn't called in that morning.

She didn't bother to wipe her eyes dry before exiting her car and digging her keys out of her purse. Consequently, her vision was blurry, and when she first stepped inside, she didn't notice anything strange.

That changed after she went to the kitchen sink for a gla.s.s of water. She'd just pressed the gla.s.s to her lips when an unfamiliar object in the center of the table caught her eye.

CHAPTER 29.

Belle liked to keep her table uncluttered. Normally, it bore nothing but a few blue and yellow woven placemats and a couple of pelican-shaped salt and pepper shakers she'd bought on a whim. But there was a bouquet in the center of the table, beside the shakers. Wrapped in cellophane and green tissue paper, it was a small riot of black-eyed-susans and little white wild flowers she couldn't identify.

It looked hand-picked.

She tensed, gripping her water gla.s.s tightly enough that her fingers ached. What the h.e.l.l?

There was no way they were from Jackson they hadn't been there when she'd left for the hospital the night before. The only person who had a key to her apartment, besides herself and her landlord, was Mariah.

If Mariah had brought the flowers by, why had she left them lying on the table instead of putting them in a vase with water?

The petals were starting to droop.

She grabbed her purse, dug out her phone and texted Mariah.

Did you stop by my place?

It took a few moments to get a reply Mariah had probably been asleep and each pa.s.sing second wound her nerves a little tighter, putting her on edge.

No. I went straight home and to bed this morning. Why?

There are flowers in my kitchen. No idea where they came from.

Mariah's next reply was much faster. Get out and call 911.

Before Belle could reply, another text came on the heels of the last. Now!

She wanted to think that Mariah was being melodramatic, but her heart was beating so hard she could feel her pulse in her fingertips. Putting down her gla.s.s, she grabbed her purse and stepped out onto the stoop, pulling the front door shut.

How had anyone gotten into her house? She'd locked the door she remembered unlocking both the k.n.o.b and the deadbolt just minutes ago.

Instead of dialing 911, she brought up Elijah's number in her call log.

"Is everything all right?" He answered after the first ring.

"Jackson's okay." The shock of discovering that someone had been in her home had dried her tears. "I'm calling about something else I need your advice. I came home to take a shower, and I think someone's been in my apartment."

"Are you inside?"

"No, I'm in the parking lot."

"Wait in your car. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

He didn't ask how she knew. She thought he'd ended the call, but then his voice rang in her ear again. "What's your address?"

She told him, and as soon as she hung up, her phone went off.

It was a text from Mariah.

Are you okay? Are you out of the apartment? Did you call the police?

Yes, yes and yes.

Technically, she had called the police. The fact that it was just one off duty officer wasn't something Mariah needed to know at the moment.

If Mariah didn't think Belle was being cautious enough, she'd probably dial 911 herself and have dispatch send an officer her way.

Good. Keep me updated, and feel free to come here if you need to.

She thanked Mariah, her clammy fingertips leaving smudges on her phone screen. Then she climbed into her car, turned the key in the ignition and let the AC run on full blast.

Elijah got there in less than fifteen minutes. By then, she was sweating despite the climate control.

Maybe it was because of her overactive heart. It hadn't slowed since Elijah had called the night before to tell her Jackson had been shot. She'd already been torn over leaving him alone while she grabbed a shower, and now this.

It was all too much at once and too strange.

Finding the flowers reminded her of finding the s.e.x toy in the office at work, although this was a much less lewd surprise. The green d.i.l.d.o had been left in the center of a table too... Maybe it was related to this, somehow.

She really f.u.c.king hoped not, though. Because if the same person had been in the office and her home, she was dealing with some kind of perv who apparently didn't worry about locks like a regular human being.

It was possible that someone had broken in through a window she hadn't checked her bedroom. That was the first thing she told Elijah when she climbed out of her car to greet him.

He stood on the asphalt in jeans and a t-s.h.i.+rt, his light brown skin glowing in the sun and his eyes dark with what she a.s.sumed was concern.

Whether it had anything to do with her situation or was solely for Jackson, she had no idea.

"So you're absolutely sure you locked up before you left last night?" he asked after she explained how she'd come home and found the flowers.

She nodded.

"What about your windows?"

"I never open them during summer, since I always have the AC running. I'm ninety-nine percent sure they were locked."

"Okay. I'm going to go inside and check it out. I want you to wait out here, just in case someone is still in there."

"Thank you. I'm sorry about calling you out here like this. I know you're not on duty, but I didn't want to call 911."

"It's not a problem I'm happy to help out. And Jackson would kick my a.s.s if I didn't." He flashed her a wry smile. "You might as well get back in your car and turn on the AC."

She heeded his suggestion it was hot enough that she could see heat rising off the asphalt in waves.

She really did feel bad for interrupting his day off, but her relief overrode her guilt. She'd make it up to him some other time, though she wasn't sure how. She'd worry about that later.

He was only inside her apartment for a few minutes. When he returned to the parking lot, she shut her car off and climbed back out.

"There's no one inside," he said, "and nothing looked off to me, although you're the only one who can say whether anything's been messed with or stolen. I saw the flowers on the table, like you said. Wanna come in and see if everything looks okay?"

"Yes."

The skin on the back of her neck p.r.i.c.kled as she reentered her apartment, paying special attention to details. In the kitchen, the only sign that anyone had been there was the bouquet. She even looked inside the fridge and cupboards nothing was amiss.

"Jackson told me that someone got into your office at work last month and left a surprise there for you to find."

"Not my office specifically the main area. But yeah, I thought of that too after I found the flowers. Do you think it could be connected?"

"Don't know. The possibility is worth keeping in mind, though."