Page 18 of Baring All
I have no intention of pursuing anything but looking at how happy and settled Knight and Lucky are – well, it makes me want things I can’t have.
9
ELOISE
A new day, same old dreams.
I’m not sure what’s triggered me – probably the fight with Aunt Ginger, but the dreams are coming thick and fast. I’m back to being too scared to sleep at night, which is bad. I could ask the department shrink for something to help me sleep – she offered after the incident. But to be honest, I’m more terrified of getting hooked on the pills than going through the dreams themselves. And I’m scared spitless over those.
I catch Hunter giving me yet another concerned look. Yeah, I look tired – the dark circles are back under my eyes. But I got through it the last time, I’ll get through it again this time. Captain Rivera’s bombshell of the other day is weighing on me too. I can’t help but feel guilty for causing a death, even though I had no other choice.
When the shootout went down, I managed to get a shot off that hit the perpetrator, taking him down just as he’d taken us down. It would almost be funny if not for the circumstances, but all three of us were in surgery at the same time – Hunter, the offender, and me. I lost my ability to have children that day, the offender lost his mobility.
They couldn’t remove the bullet from where it lay at the base of his skull, and we knew it was a possibility it would eventually kill him. And now it has –little more than a year later. It was a him-or-me situation, and still I feel guilty for being the one who fired the shot that’s caused his death.
“Stop looking at me like that. I’m fine.” My words come out harsher than I intend, and in cringe inside. Stuck in the patrol vehicle, I feel trapped. There’s nowhere to hide from Hunter’s knowing gaze.
“You know I have a wife, right?”
I frown over at him. “What does that mean?” I’m sure the confusion I feel is stamped all over my face.
“I know ‘I’m fine’ is code for ‘I’m not fine, but I don’t want to talk about it’,” Hunter replies.
“Yeah, well, I really am fine, Mr. Smartass.”
He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes taking me in, missing nothing. It takes everything in me not to squirm under his scrutiny. “Sure, let’s go with that for now.”
The words are barely out when the radio crackles to life. I respond to the call out at a residential address not too far from the military base. A nice, quiet neighborhood we rarely get called to.
“Copy, Dispatch. Vehicle three-one-seven en route,” I respond.
“Copy that, vehicle three-one-seven.”
The short trip to the “burbs” is a quiet one. I’m not sure if Hunter’s simply giving me space, or if I’ve offended him. Either way, now’s not the time to deal with it.
The house is one of the smaller ones on the street, but it’s beautifully maintained with a lush green garden and an American flag lazily fluttering in the breeze. We step onto the porch, and Hunter rings the doorbell. We can hear music playing in the backyard and voices chatting animatedly.
When the door opens, I recognize the man standing there. It takes a minute to place him, but then I remember where I’ve seen him before. Apparently, he remembers us too.
“Ah, officers. Please, come in. We’re all out back.” We follow him as he makes his way through the house. “Under different circumstances, I’d say it’s good to see you again, but you know …” His shrug says it all.
“Likewise, sir,” I reply.
“Please, call me Knight – sorry, force of habit. Merrick Kane.”
Hunter points at me. “Eloise Mason. I’m Ethan Hunter.”
“Ah, yes. I remember. It’s been a while since we last saw you. I would have preferred that we weren’t meeting again like this.” Something in the man’s tone has me paying closer attention to him.
Lines of tension bracket his full mouth, anger gleams in his eyes, and his posture is stiff. Most definitely not a happy camper.
“Can you tell us what’s going on?” Hunter asks.
“My girl and I, we have some friends over for a barbecue. We’re all out back, but there’s constant movement through the house. And still, someone managed to get into my house, unseen, and leave a package on the kitchen counter.”
“Has anyone touched it?” Hunter asks as I take in our beautifully styled surroundings. The space is far too warm and inviting to have been done by a designer. It’s clear love and forethought has gone into each item of furniture and décor. It’s obvious this is a home, not just a house to the people who live here.
“Yeah. Indie saw her name on the tag and thought it was a gift from one of our friends, so she opened it.”
