Page 7 of Fragments of the Past

Mrs. Turner asks if she can contact Rae Lee directly. I check my suit pockets for my cell and AirDrop the contact card to the Turners.

Grifting is probably how Rae Lee Chatham makes money, anyhow. Why not cut out the middleman, save me the hassle, and the department the expense?

After how long the goodbyes took, I’m surprised to see Rae Lee still outside. She cautiously lowers herself to the curb. A feat in the tight skirt she’s wearing. She stretches her legs out into the road.

“Don’t get run over,” I say, striding towards my car.

She glances over her shoulder. “I’ll take my chances. Thanks. My other choice is giving all the neighborhood pervs a view of my panties.”

“Standing is an option.”

She wiggles her phone at me. “My ride is running late. I made the mistake of not eating, and since I’m woozy, I’d prefer not cracking my skull open and making that lovely woman’s day any worse than I already did.” She pauses. “For what it’s worth, I planned to tell you I was sorry.”

“When?” I ask curtly.

The question stings like a slap across her face. “When I got here.”

“No. I mean, when did you know I was who you were meeting today?”

Her eyes dart from me to the gravel road and back again. “I knew for sure when I saw your badge in the kitchen.” She rolls her lips, then admits, “But it’s not as if I didn’t intentionally avoid asking.”

Sincere remorse mars her features. I’m certain that’s the only honest thing she’s said to me.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because the way you reacted to meetingRaleighyesterday is the opposite of how you reacted to meeting Rae Lee today. Haven’t you ever felt the pull to be someone you’re not, Detective Ames? To leave it all behind just for a few hours?”

Chapter Four

________________

ANSON

Expecting I have nothing more to contribute to the conversation, Rae Lee doesn’t seek a response. She directs her attention anywhere but at me.

I drink in her profile. Her pert little nose. The shape of her eyebrow over a big blue eye. There had been something undeniable about her heart-shaped face when we glimpsed one another at the bar. That, for as alluring as she was, Raleigh’s closed-off expression meant her interest lay in a single night. She wouldn’t linger in my bed. Wouldn’t anticipate us exchanging numbers. Wouldn’t expect flowers or a dinner date… And the air of mystery about her allowed me to turn her into a fantasy that fulfilled my needs.

I pretend I still have something that makes my life worthwhile besides the dedication to the force. Whenever anyone forces me to admit I don’t, I become fixated on my anger. One of the few things able to help me emerge from the depths is tossing a ball around in the backyard with Angeline’s son. Although even the kid has a girlfriend and he’s begun pestering me about why I don’t.

An odd sense ofdéjà vuwashes over me. It’s similar to what I felt when I asked Rae Lee to my place last night: not being ready to let go of her. The overwhelming desire to spend a few more hours in Rae Lee’s company takes charge, protesting my rationality.

“Cancel the ride. I’m taking you to get something to eat.” I open the passenger side door.

“Why?”

“Because after all that, I can’t leave you on the curb, disturbing what little peace the Turners still have.”

Also, if something happens to her, nobody is pinning it on me that I left Rae Lee here. She could get run over. Or the ride share driver is a psycho who wants her for his collection. I’m a cop, worst-case scenarios fill the empty spaces in my mind.

She grudgingly stands and wipes the grass off her bottom. We ride in silence, making the trek to the lunch car diner feel longer than it takes.

Inside, a waitress escorts us to a booth and brings over two waters. At my insistence, Rae Lee orders a club sandwich. Toasted rye, mustard, light mayo, and the pickle to the side. She won’t add a soft drink, which sticks me as odd because we’re being bombarded with retro-styled Cheerwine advertisements decorating the prefabricated walls and Pepsi sponsors the menu boards above the counter.

I order a cup of coffee for now and a cinnamon bun to go. I’m not hungry. The pastry is meant to relax Rae Lee, so she doesn’t notice she’s the only person eating and perhaps, if I’m lucky, let me in on what she thinks she saw. I’ll have it for dessert tonight.

The psychic groans, pressing the on button to wake her phone to no avail. “Stupid battery is forever draining itself.”

“Carry a charging brick.”

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