Page 11 of Copper

Lucy smiles, and her fingers brush my hand as she takes the item. “Yes, well, it’s been a long time since a boy gave me a candy necklace and a bouquet of Pixie Sticks. How could the other boys ever compete?”

“You look amazing,” I say, trying to control my breath so I don’t sound like a middle school kid who’s never seen a naked woman. Hell, I’ve seenthiswoman naked, but it’s a pleasure every single time. Will I ever stop liking how she looks or stop drooling over her? Even if she’s old and gray, I can’t ever imagine a time when I won’t want Lucy.

I’m so utterly fucked.

I gulp and offer her my arm. “You ready?”

“Let me grab my purse. Do you want to come in?”

Is it the policeman in me, or is it the obsession I have with my high school girlfriend that compels me to see what her house looks like now? I step through her doorway without a moment’s hesitation and take a deep breath, trying to commit the scent of her house to memory and looking around with wide eyes.

Lucy has always been clean. Even her bedroom in high school had the bed made and no dust on the her small homework desk. For a boy who threw his underwear wherever he pleased, I was fascinated then. I’m even more fascinated now because the condo is sparse, with very little furniture, but it’s immaculate and smells like pine cleaner. There’s an Ikea couch facing a small flat-screen TV. A wooden coffee table in the middle of the room is bare except for a small, white candle and a set of hand-carved coasters. A bookshelf, decorated with picture frames of a dog and sunflower fields, is on the far side of the room. No wedding pictures are on the shelf, and only a few books are scattered between the frames and a small vase of real flowers. Part of me wants to step further toward the shelf and see what she reads. I squint to read the spines, and they look like sci-fi.

Some things never change.

“Still a clean freak, huh?” I ask. Her eyes darken like a cloud just passed over them. I clear my throat and backpedal. “Sorry if I offended you. Did I say something wrong?”

“I’ve always been clean, but it’s…well, it’s an obsession now,” she says, wringing her hands. I look at the candy I brought her. It’s on the end table in the entryway and at a perfect 90-degree angle. She follows my gaze. “You ever seeSleeping with the Enemywith Julia Roberts?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Remember how the husband liked the cans and towels? Well, that was Beck.” She looks at the floor. “If you get punched or kicked enough for having stuff out of order, your body and mind won’t let you have things disorganized. I like clean. It kept me safe. Well, safer than what I was if something wasn’t decorated or dust-free. He wanted blankets perfectly folded, even if they were in the linen cabinet. Ever try to fold a fitted sheet perfectly? I equate clean with safety. Mess makes me uneasy.”

I’m within an inch of her in seconds. “Lucy,” I whisper, and my hands cup her cheek before I can question if it’s a good idea to touch her outside of the club. It’s been a long time since I’ve touched her without paying. Both of us flinch. It’s funny that touching her without a pole or cum-stained upholstery under us feels weird. I pull my hand away and instantly miss her skin. “He was an awful piece of shit. A good man would never do that to you. You didn’t deserve that. No woman does. Can we finally talk about it? Can you tell me so I can help you?”

She looks up at me, a tear in her left eye. She blinks, and it doesn’t fall. “What’s the point? It’s over. At least, it is if he stays gone. I just wish I could find him to serve him papers. Part of me is scared of that, though. If he comes back and still wants me, he’ll go into a rage. He told me several times that if I tried to leave him, he’d kill me. I’m...I’m fucking terrified, Aaron.”

I grit my teeth and flex my jaw. Lucy instantly tenses at my expression, and I try to soften it. I focus on my breathing. This is a woman who doesn’t like angry men in her proximity, even if the angry man could kill her abusive husband with his bare hands. I step back from her one step. “Let me help, Lucy. Do you want me to look into it?”

She shakes her head and puts her black clutch purse under her arm, wiping her cheek a little and taking a deep breath. “I tried calling the police, Aaron. I reported him missing. They said they’d look, but if he left voluntarily, there’s nothing they can do. Everything points to him leaving voluntarily. They, well, they questioned his girlfriend. She hasn’t seen him either.”

I step back further. “Girlfriend? The fucker was even cheating on you?” I look at her in that dress I want to peel off her body, and my mouth drops open. “What idiot would cheat on you?”

She shrugs. “My husband isn’t particularly bright, Aaron. Like I’m some prize anyway.”

I step to her and cup her cheeks again. This time I press my forehead to hers. She can push me away if she wants, but I need to be near her. In her face. She doesn’t push me away but puts her hands on my shoulders, not quite pulling me into her, but allowing the closeness in her home. Not in the club. Not after a blow job paid with taxpayer salary cash. She lets me breathe her in without music pumping through the speakers and a girl coming around selling shots in tubes. This feels more personal and intimate than when she crawled on my lap and let me hold her at the club.

“You are so much more than what you think, Lucy. I never asked why you work at that club. Are you in financial trouble? Did he take everything?”

“Your guess is as good as mine on if Beck had us in financial trouble. Maybe you can find that out too? I just needed to scramble to find a job to keep the lights on. I only had access to money to buy things that make me pretty or keep me fit.”

I suck my bottom lip. “That’s financial abuse, and it’s a real thing.”

She clucks her tongue. “That was the least of my abuse issues,” she says, tilting her head. “After he left, I went through his office and couldn’t find shit. I’m thankful to Peter for hiring me, even if it’s creepy for a stripper to work for her cousin.” She looks away. Is she hiding something? My intuition raises its head, and a chill moves up my back. “I was out of the job market for a long time, Aaron. I had to take what I could get. I bought some sparse furniture and sold the nice car for cash to pay for a new place and a smaller sedan. Oh yeah, Beck will be pissed about that when he comes back. Whatever. Guess I’ll take my beating when the time comes.”

“You’ll do no such fucking thing. If he ever beats you again or even comes near your home or work except for a divorce proceeding, I’ll show him his severed dick before I fuck his skull with it.”

She slides her hand down my shoulders to my chest. Now I know what the romance novels Cynthia read meant when a woman says her nipples quiver. Mine definitely do something when she touches me, and my dick wakes up like it does whenever Lucy touches me anywhere below my neck.

“While that’s a lovely gesture, do you think you can find him, Aaron?”

Sure. I’ll add it to the list of things to do besides find something on Murphy and stay on top of my team to see who’s killing men in my county. Hopefully, the two are related so I can kill two birds with one stone. Things are rarely that easy, though.

But Lucy’s a top priority for me. “I’ll look into it this week. I can’t make promises. What do you want me to do if I find him?”

“I just want to know where he is. It’d be nice to know which direction to look when he comes back for me. I’m sure he will someday.”

“Are you sure the girlfriend doesn’t know anything? Have you talked to her?”

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